Working out

I worked out this afternoon for the first time in about nine months. A woman could have delivered a healthy seven- or eight-pound baby in that time. I didn't deliver anything, but did gain an unhealthy seven to eight pounds in that time.

It began innocently enough. I had a lot of projects going on, so I decided to take a couple of weeks off from working out, just to finish up the backlog. Well, the projects took longer than expected, then there was always an excuse, then I started saying I'll do it this morning, right after I do that thing, and this thing...then it'd be the afternoon and I'd say "tomorrow for sure".  Finally, I reached a point where I stopped pretending and relagated working out to the category of Someday.

Around Christmas, I decided to go in and cancel my membership; I'd start it up again when I was really ready. Then I figured, if I have to go in to "resign" (you can't do it over the phone or internet!), I might as well actually go in and start exercising again. But I put that off for a couple of weeks, and just felt guilt...but did nothing.

At one point a couple of months ago I thought I'd start chopping and stacking firewood several days a week. That's supposed to be very good exercise, utilizing most of the muscle groups. That lasted one day. The wood was down in a gully, so hauling it to the house meant an uphill climb, and my knees were killing me that night. I took aspirin and abandoned the plan. The rest of the winter passed. Spring arrived.

So, today was the day I would finally start in again at the gym. I had to drive my daughter's boyfriend to the airport, so I figured I'd go after I got back. But I had mistakenly thought he was going to the Manchester airport, thirty minutes away, when he was actually flying out of Logan in Boston---an hour trip. And I wasn't ready with all the stuff I'd wanted to load into the car first for my other errands...so I just drove over and picked him up.

Coming back from Boston, I stopped at my wife's office and fixed her chair--luckily, the tools I had originally meant to bring, but didn't, weren't needed. (And, I must admit, I got a gourmet cupcake from a store downtown--the antithesis of working out.)

I headed home and put the stuff that had to go the transfer station in the back of the Bug. Off to The Dump (as I will always call it, even though recyclables go into one place and trash gets put into trailers to be disposed of elsewhere, and nothing is dumped in the landfill any more), drop off the load, and then...on to the Y. Would I actually make it? There had been many times during the previous three seasons when I'd headed in that direction and decided I really should get to work on something more important.

But I went. I stretched (the limits of my stretchability were a source of dismay, but I persevered), did the machines (no free weights at this point; I figured it was wise to stick to machines that would isolate the muscles being used this first time back), even ran for 15 minutes on the treadmill. My wife asked why not twenty? but I reminded her: First Day Back. Take it easy.

I had thought that the pain of this afternoon would be stronger than the rush of endorphins that I used to feel when I was working out regularly, but I was wrong! I left the gym feeling refreshed. The aches I felt were the same as I used to feel in the old days when I'd pushed a little but made progress, and my mood was elevated as it hasn't been in months.

I promised the trainer at the Y that I'll be back tomorrow for the stability ball/bar/mat training class. We'll be moving out of the usual exercise room to the field house...I fear running, jumping and who knows what else will be involved. But I feel too good to stay away.

I think.

Pastor

Someone sent me a link to the youTube video of the pastor of the infamous Westboro Baptist Church ranting that the Arizona shootings were God's way of punishing us for our "sins". I won't put the link here; you can find it easily enough yourself. My point is that I decided to watch it, much the way one looks at a horrible accident even though one wants to look away.

I used a technique I learned years ago, at mime school, of all places. I don't recall why we got around to discussing watching TV commercials, but Tony Montaro, the brilliant teacher and mime, told us that when he watched commercials, he would just let himself "zone out", and struck a blank--and very funny--facial expression. The idea, he said, was that you could let all the frantic and/or subversive messages of the ad wash over you and just ignore them. (This, I should point out, was in the days before remotes and DVR's, when one could only avoid a commercial by getting up, going over to the TV, and turning the sound or TV off--or by leaving the room.)

So I turned on the reverend's video and watched blankly. As I felt the anger begin to rise, I told myself that he was beneath contempt and not worth the effort...and, lo and behold, I felt myself relax. I watched the whole thing, heard all the words, marveled at the utter lack of compassion, awareness and Biblical understanding of this man, but I was able to avoid the overwhelming outrage that I might normally feel.

People on all sides of the issues generally seem to feel that political dialogue in America has become largely impolite and impolitic. Perhaps if many of our elected officials employed what I'm calling the Montaro Zone-Out Technique when they see or hear opposing views, they might tender their responses more rationally. I can picture a representative or senator listening to a fellow member of Congress whose views are directly opposite his or her own, and letting a blank expression wash over his or her face. It could make for great TV, although the Technique might occasionally be mistaken for dozing off or daydreaming. Then, as the life returned to the eyes, the measured response would be based on a sifting of the essence of the opponent's statements, not having allowed oneself to get sucked into the emotional reaction that might normally muddy the debate.

Interesting how tragedies beget waves of civility. In the aftermath of 9/11, football commentators consciously stopped using terms like "slaughter," "killing" and "decimation." Crime dropped sharply in NYC, and other places as well, at least for a while. Regardless of what did or didn't cause the shooter to do this, we can use it as a reminder to back off. Someone can disagree with you without being a liar; someone can interpret information differently without being a villain.

QlownTown online

QlownTown has arrived! The site is up and running, and the response has been overwhelming. I thought I'd feel somewhat ambivalent when it finally went live, since it took so long to get there. But the moment I was told that everything was ready and I could announce, I was thrilled! The whole day was spent excitedly sending out e-mails and Facebook announcements. One of my favorite e-mails of all those I received in response to the announcement was "Qongratulations". I've tried to avoid overusing Q as a replacement for C or K, so I was amused to see it appear where I wouldn't have thought to put it. I wrote back, "very qlever".

Now I want to write a QlownTown song, and maybe do a video for uTube. I already have the first two lines: "Everybody sing and dance/kick your partner in the pants." I mean this to be in the butt, not front, so don't start injuring other people in the name of QlownTown.

I'd like to animate it, but that'd be a lot of work--something which I try to avoid if possible. But dressing people up as clowns and taping them would be a lot, too. I may just draw stills to illustrate the tune. I predict a one-year turnaround...glaciers and I move slowly.

Someone commented that she likes the colorful look of the cartoons. I had actually noticed that they were brighter than most, and thought about trying to tone them down. You see, as I go along coloring them, I do whatever color seems appropriate for the item I'm filling in, rather than choosing an overall theme first. And drawing clowns, it seems only natural to do a red nose, orange hair, loud clothes. If it's a clown house, shouldn't the floors be purple, or the walls be pink? So it often winds up bright. But I decided it's nice to have that distinctive feature.

When it came to coloring the "Clown mobsters" cartoon, however, I realized it was still in black and white (I scan the ink drawings in grayscale, then switch to color mode), and decided that particular strip looked best in b&w--the whole noir look. Of course, the pies in the violin case might not obviously appear to be pies to some people, but I'll take that chance. And as time goes by, if I'm behind schedule, I may just leave a cartoon black and white...but coloring them is a lot of fun.

I guess in some ways I've never progressed beyond the little kid with crayons and a coloring book. If I am someday able to hire someone to color them for me, won't that be a cool job to get paid to do? There's probably a cartoon in that.

Speaking of cartoon ideas, if you have any suggestions, please post or email me. I'd love to do strips that apply to particular occupations, services, sports, etc. I can't pay, but you'll get to see your idea online if it's used. You could even buy it on a T shirt or whatever, and tell people it's a professionally-drawn custom cartoon that was done for you from your idea.

Launch!

Okay, you've read this before. (If not, you can check previous posts and read it now.) But this time I think I mean it: the QlownTown site (www.qlowntown.com) will officially launch online on Friday, March 6th, THIS YEAR! That means that you will see a new cartoon every day from then until the end of time, or until I run out of ideas and shoot myself.

Coming up with new ideas doesn't worry me, because I have about a year's worth now, having been generating ideas the whole year this has been in development (and even before that). Of course, there may be days when you'll read one and say, "He had a year to plan and this is the best he could come up with?*" But, in the words of Maine humorist Tim Sample, "If you don't laugh, it's not because it isn't funny...it's because you don't get it." Of course, that may be true of Maine humor, which can sometimes be, as many regional styles are, distinct and peculiar (I personally love it, and have a slight whistle in my S's to this day because I spent so much time trying to get that whistle when doing a Downeast accent), but may not be true of your average everyday comic strip humor.

So if you think a cartoon's not funny, let me know. If it's because you don't know a critical part of the joke (for example, if a character speaks in French with no translation or you never heard of Puddintane), look it up on the Internet first. I'm still amazed at how I can type in a long sentence, like "How do I change the rear wiper on a Toyota Prius?" and will get links to sites with pictures, instructions and other information I didn't even know I wanted. There's also a site I love www.ComicsIDontUnderstand.com, where people post comics they, well, don't understand. Then a number of people will write in with explanations, critiques, etc. Any exposure is good exposure, within reason, so if you don't get one of mine, send it to them.

And speaking of exposure--oh, what a smooooth segue!---once you've visited the site, PLEASE tell everyone you know about it. Send emails, call them on the phone, accost them on the street, put posters on their front doors, send flaming arrows with the web address on the shaft into their yards--just get the word out. It's been a year-long process, and the payoff will be if I can get thousands, ultimately tens of thousands of people reading the strip...well, that, and get them to buy merchandise related to the strip. But for now, please spread the word...that's Phase One of my plan for Qlown Domination.

I recently marked down the original art from what it was going to be, because I had priced it at the value I anticipate a year or two from now, but of course it may not be worth that much yet. So I see the original art as a good investment. Remember, there's only one piece of original art for each strip, so when the first one's gone, they all are!

See you on Friday!

*Grammatically speaking, this sentence should actually end with "...up with which he could come?", but that sounds somehow inappropriate.