Swangler’s Bliss

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Jeesh! Has it been a month since last post? It’s not like I’ve been sitting around like Lou here — I’ve been writing the pilot, which is getting close to completion. Also, some drawings of possible supporting characters and backgrounds like houses, living rooms, kitchens, etc. But if I post everything, there’ll be no reason for you to tune in.

Secret Soldier Vs. The Master Racer

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In my animated project, (yet untitled) Flea Market Phil is an avid reader and collector of comics. So there’s a lot of discussion about the history and minutia of comics. That means I’m working on fictitious Golden Age comics. Heres my first one: The Secret Solder trying to catch the Master Racer, a super fast fascist, who was originally created to win the 1936 Berlin Olympics, the experiment went horribly wrong. The Master Racer was not permitted to represent the German team, because he talked too fast and too much.

The New Brunswick Of My Memories

The Internet conflicts with my memories, insofar as I’m now able to take a virtual walk through the city of New Brunswick, thanks to the innovative folks at Google. But the New Brunswick I left in September of 2000, is to some extent gone. Many of the stores, bars,eateries, buildings, people and culture have disappeared. Many parts of town are unrecognizable, due to expansion of the hospital and related medical facilities. At some point, the city seems cut in half, with nothing but bland, clean offices and parking decks, separating one neighborhood from another. One thing on the Google Street View that matches my memory is New Brunswick always seemed overcast.

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For me, in the 90’s, New Brunswick was the “funnest” place on Earth. It had great quirky record, comics and video shops, every possible kind of food, clubs, bars, and an amazingly talented and thriving underground music scene. Had New Brunswick been anywhere else in America other than 45 minutes west of NYC, it would’ve gotten as much attention as Seattle. I used to call New Brunswick “the town where the parents went away for the weekend and never came home.” We were free to do whatever we wanted, for as long as we could stand it. Continue reading “The New Brunswick Of My Memories”