I forgot to review this book like I forgot to go to that party the other night, I mean I left the first party early so I could be at least sorta on time for the second party, but going home between parties was a mistake, phone calls to make and interesting conversations to have and then maybe flip through these catalogs that just came in the mail even though I definitely have enough clothes, style to burn man, but what's the harm in looking and then let's get on the interwebs and buy just maybe one or two things and then let's just check out what's on the news, oh that's not fun at all, need some whiskey for that shit, and then let's watch some Watchmen, no too serious, and then let's watch some Black Lightning instead, we'll go to that party in a minute, and then and then I'm waking up and then it's time to send some apology text replies to the host and everyone else who was wondering where the fuck I was last night, don't forget the emojis, and then
and then I realized I forgot to write this review and so here I am, which is sorta comic to me because a big part of this book is about some guy who forgot to go to a party and so everyone at that sad, small little party goes on and on wondering where that guy is, not to say that the party I missed was small or sad or that everyone wondered where I was, well, I'm sure a lot of people did, false modesty is not my thing, but I'm sure the party itself was neither small nor sad, and apparently the guy who missed this sad small party, the central character of the piece, is considered a stylish guy and that's a coincidence because I consider myself a stylish guy, I dunno if other people feel the same but I assume so, although in what dimension those blue pinstripe pants with suspenders he wears throughout the book are considered stylish, I surely do not know. those are some eyesore pants for real. and the suspenders??
IGNORE ALL OF THE ABOVE
much like my pointless, aimless musings above, this wonderful book has an aimless, free-flowing style that reminded me a lot of how people remember recent events. it is detailed but kinda smudgy. all of the small moments are there but they flow into each other just like conversations and actions flow into each other when socializing, when out and about in the great stream of life. the book felt real. which is also funny to me because the art is like a vividly colored dream, not real but real, smudges of color and bits of sharpness, emotions underneath, it's all a slow-fast-slow whirl, done in watercolors. the art is something special. so easy on the eyes, so right.
the book itself is special. it has a semi-lovable free spirit at its center, brilliantly surreal scenes at a club, unnervingly realistic scenes at a dull party, and one of the most impressive sex scenes I've ever seen rendered in what I suppose should be called a comic but I think is better served by the phrase "sequential art". not that I am remotely a comic snob, but this is fucking art.
the book is about how we connect and how we don't connect and all of the smudginess in between. it made me want to reach out to those friends of mine who aren't touchy people and who are kinda insular, kinda pessimistic, and give them a hug, somehow include them in something, just do something nice for them. I don't see in black and white but I think some people do; I don't think the human touch is toxic but it sure seems like a lot of people do. life is full of color and human touch and this book is all about that and it's also about how it's tough on people who don't feel that way.
I mean that poor friend, he's insecure and lonely, he should have just sat on his buddy's lap when that blue pinstriped lap was offered, he should have just jumped from the balcony into that crowd's arms, he should maybe stop living in his head so much, and that's good advice for anyone. he should have been been like that girl who followed his buddy around until she finally actually did hook up with him, get it girl, and the hook-up was awesome. life's all about trying, right, trying to connect? people should keep doing that.