Imaginary time capsule

Back from the Raptus festival, Norway's biggest comic convention. Sure it's no San Diego CC; It's pretty much put together with masking tape and string, but it has a lot of heart.



I haven't returned with any commissioned drawings or autographs, but I'm well pleased with the day anyway. Caught some interviews and lectures, looked at the cosplayers (mostly anime, which I don't have any clue about. And a handful of Burtonesque Mad Hatters - the elitist bitch in me wanted to go up to them and ask "So, could you tell me what the "10/6" card means?". Thankfully one of the festival arrangers did a near perfect Jamie Hyneman!).

Mostly I'm thrilled I got to see Don Rosa. Now that's a man who taught seven-yearold me what quality storytelling is. His stories - his Life and times of Scrooge McDuck in particular - is one of the very first things I remember reading by myself. Like all my friends I read the weekly magazine Donald Duck & Co. every week, but even back then I instantly knew there was something special about Rosa stories. His dynamic artwork, all those tiny little hidden visual gags in every frame, all the stories where the characters visited real places and talked about real historical events and real religions (that story where they visit the ancient Hindu temple and go over deities one by one blew my mind when I was a child) - there wasn't anything like that in the rest of the magazine, not to mention in the comic world at all.

All that came back to me as I watched that modest man from Kentucky with silver hair and granny glasses do his magic in a sweltering lecture hall.

Fascinating stuff too, everything from how he evolved Scrooge as a character from Carl Barks' greedy feeble old man; demonstration of how Donald Duck is visually a much more dynamic character than Mickey Mouse; thoughts on why Europeans love Donald more than Mickey; and also how he's terribly disappointed in women who request drawings of Daisy Duck ("Whereas if a lady wants a drawing of Magica de Spell or Glittering Goldie I know I'm dealing with someone with a personality!").

All in all my main gripe with the con was the disappointing range of products to be bought. I thought I'd finally find an English-language edition of The life and times of Scrooge McDuck but alas no... Couldn't even find a cool T-shirt.

You know the saying that all who love are blind
It seems that ancient adage still applies
I guess I should have seen right through you
But the moon got in my eyes

Do you miss the days when you could go into the children's section at the library, gently pull another Where's Waldo? from the bookcase and spend hours looking for a stripy weirdo with glasses?

Well, now you can do it alt-rock style! Just watch Radio P3's recording of the Kaizers Orchestra concert at Øya for free and play a game of Where's Tilly? through fifteen delightful songs.

Your target:

Weirdo with glasses, bleached hair and stripy blue sweater. Extra points are awarded for spotting the weirdo with glasses and purple hair (HINT: Purple-haired weirdo is often found in close proximity to stripy weirdo.) Both feature extensively throughout the concert.

Man, what a day that was.

I have now lived in Bergen a week and some, what do I miss? I mean, excluding the fact that everybody I hold dear are many many miles away. I miss The daily show. You don't know you've got an addiction until you're forced to live without. I actually had a TV-watching dream last night. All reruns. Thank God for the excellent official website, says I.

I generally have some pretty colourful dreams these days. The other night I dreamt I was the Master (and I looked absolutely stunning in a Nehru jacket, thankyouverymuch), and I'd made a machine that sucked the colour out of everything (because I think black-and-white is much more estetically pleasing, I suppose), but to my frustration it had somehow made both spies in my Spy vs Spy comics white. That makes it the lamest nightmare ever, I think, since I've always rooted for Black Spy.

He told me that I have a soul
How does he know?

I've not completely given up on life yet, and there are several reasons for this:

A) I've got a box full of Lollipop-ices. All mine, moahahahaa!

B) I've started rereading Les Misérables by Victor Hugo. You don't feel so bad when you read about others' pain (plenty so far, I'm already at the Champmathieu-case). This is the fourth or fifth time I read it, this time just to see if I still love it. At least I have a better clue of how you pronounce all the French names now. Bamatabois always makes me grin.

C) And last but not least, the latest story arch in M, where C'thulhu follows the author home and is kept as a family pet.



( and another one for good Norwgian measure )

You have to love that! It's being printed in Norway's next-to-biggest newspaper, and think of all the people who don't get it. He's alienating lots and lots of people. But I love it. Even when he learns C'thulhu tricks by giving him cats as snacks, I love it.

Okay, sick now. Gotta lie down.