In Charlotte's Concrete Belly, In Chicago: Jonathan's Dreaming

Day One of HeroesCon 2007 started with two words: rectal exam. Or anyway, that's what I thought I overheard as I carried in the last of my soon to be not sold wares. Do I often mishear things? Yes. Do I purposely use my misinterpretations of reality as fodder for narratives, or paranoid delusions, often both? Absolutely. So I accepted the four syllable commencement speech, found my table in the sprawling basement that is the Charlotte Convention Center, and sat down for to color Wolverine.

Wolverine, a commission for Jason H. to be delivered today, was drawn and inked last night in the hotel, between marveling at the addictive properties of "Law and Order" and air conditioning. I was mildly satisfied with the rendering of the clawed hot head, but I thought his skull or mask a bit lopsided and he looked to be mid poop. Ride it out, Wolverine, it could be worse.
I dreamt nothing that I can remember, though apparently everybody's favorite Messinger dreamed of me. I woke, drank coffee (which I am only and oddly compelled to drink when in the crisp stagnancy of hotels), and hefted, sweated my way past the throngs of waiting collectors and costumed enthusiasts.

Costumed? Did I say costumed? Oh yes. Will there be pictures? God, let's hope so. I will try. My head was too busy dropping my mouth open today to think of working the camera. Tomorrow I will be desensitized, once again, back in convention form: camera poised.