Yup, there it is.

For some reason, they hit this morning, and they hit hard. Yeah, it’s those “I’m not going to Comic-Con” blues.  It’s funny, because I really don’t have any reason to go this year.  I made bigger leaps in my career by attending one World Horror Con than by going to the three San Diego cons I went to.  I have a new project to pitch, but I have an in with somebody, and I can bypass the con.

But I still want to go.

I want to walk around with Randy and watch incredible artists draw sketches for him while I wonder Why didn’t I save up more spending cash?  I want to buy sketch books and talk shit with Larry Young.  I want to get run over because I didn’t realize Halle Berry was walking behind me (this really happened back in ’03).  I want to get drunk at the Honey Bee Hive during the annual burlesque show and live art show.  I want to drink even more and talk geek stuff with people in the Hyatte bar.

I want to eat fish, fish, fish!

But alas, tis not to be.