Breaking the Bank, or Just Breaking Even.

Another year, another Alternative Press Expo. Of course this year we had to have a lot of rain, a miserable economy, and an event taking place the day after Halloween. These factors made for a great turnout. Oh right– that was bullshit! At least I can be thankful that my wonderful friends, cohorts, and dare I say fans made who all me so happy to be back in good ol’ San Francisco! APE was a lot of fun, and it still is the #1 place to find a lot of interesting artists making things by hand so you can merch trade at the last hour of the day. Thanks so much to Sean Seamus McWhinny, Jessica “wish she were my” Beard and Megan Healey for being the best people to table with.

Fashion Forward
I premiered my super cool new coat on Friday at the deYoung museum with Ashley Serra. Our hopes and dreams were shattered when we found out the Yves Saint Laurent exhibit started the following day- the day I had to be camped in a muggy exhibition hall selling indie comics to indie kids who wanted to buy indie prints for double the price of my indie comics. Oh well, there’s always the future. We talked about how Mad Men made us (and Glen) want to dress nicer. You tell me if this counts as “nicer.”

Sina Grace wears Alexander McQueen.

We’re Paralyzed, We Apologize.
After this weekend, it’s hard to leave San Francisco again. There are so many ghosts in such a small town. Twenty-two years in Los Angeles and there isn’t a single door I can’t walk in, yet somehow, in the few years I’d been in San Francisco, I feel unwelcome in half of the shops on Castro (this probably has more to do with my virtue than a lack thereof). My fear had been that the ghosts were going to take over- that I couldn’t love my city because it was someone else’s.

But it’s mine.

Rememory
Therein lies your problem with memories: you think they’re someone else’s and that you can’t have your happiness back, but that is absolute BS. When I thought the Expo was going miserably on Saturday, I forced myself to change my flow of thought. As opposed to thinking about my expectations and the turnout, I instead considered the things I would look back on fondly, and you know what?

I had a wonderful time, and made enough money to break even. Plus: I met someone who had listened to Timothy Rabbit’s song about me and didn’t even connect the dots until the end our conversation. Small world!

The only person telling you how to feel is yourself. This weekend I remebered coming up to my pal David with a huge personal conflict. At the time, I’d been completely distraught and begging him for advice. For years, he’d been the guy I knew who could give me a calm and resolute answer. That weekend, he told me to follow my heart. Hey David: The heart doesn’t process thoughts and use logic- that shit only makes sure you breathe right. When one asks their heart what to do, the heart’s just going to look for what keeps you breathing in the now.

From reconciling your emotions to buying a stupid wool coat, it’s always up to how you feel to make the big decisions. Other people are wrapped up in their own crap to take care of somebody else. Totally alarming, yet totally calming.

This all boils down to me saying that I love San Francisco, and everything is alright.

The bad things are gone. So long.