It has been years since I’ve bought comics. Every now and then I’ll pop into this shop or that and see what’s happening but I usually go home with a trade of some comics from the 80′s or something. Back in the day, though, I was a fiend. It always started off innocently enough. I bought three or four books a month and then I’d see something else I liked and more and more until I’d reach this perverted critical mass where I was buying thirty monthly books and massaging the numbers so that I could buy gas AND a shitload of comics. Every time, though, I hit the wall and I have to quit cold turkey. BAM! No mo’ comics. But sure as shit, I always wind up back in the darkened aisles of The Android’s Dungeon, dodging the odd nerd in the fingerless gloves and fedora. I can’t stay away.
Recently I’ve started rolling up my sleeve and tieing off my bicep with a belt under the guidance of a choice few dudes at work. Thank god for that. I’m also finding that my tastes have changed. Where before I loved super hero books, these days I just can’t seem to get into them. I’ve read a few that have really tickled my fancy, Invincible, for instance and the Bendis run on Daredevil, but the shit is happening with horror comics. Bob Kirkman’s outstanding zombie series, The Walking Dead, made a believer out of me and Mike Mignola’s recent return to his BPRD/Hellboy characters has been welcome. The Lobster Johnson series and the new Abe Sapien books are the shizz, but new this month is a book I wasn’t entirely expecting.