First: I spent nearly an hour today trading 'war stories' with an old pal of mine form the USAF. It was painful to open some of those wounds, but in a peaceful way that is hard to define and place into the proper words. Imagine if someone were to slam a sledgehammer on your toe and you screamed...
But no sound came out.
Afterwards, we both felt better if only for the fact we weren't bringing up stories anymore. The sledgehammering had stopped. But the capper to the conversation was something he said that put it all in perspective, bathed it in anesthetic -- "We made those jets fly pretty, didn't we?"
Second: Mike Fyles ran an impromptu contest of sorts the other day on Facebook, looking for a title for his "Cliffhanger Dirigible" drawing... Lo and behold, today I look on Facebook and this is the result:
I am humbled Mike chose to place my name on the magnificent piece of pulp art.
(I told everyone on Twitter that this means I'm going to have to create an aerial adventure pulp. Let me add that to the list. But If Mike wants to draw it I'm certain I can find several people to contribute stories of aerodynamic derring-do)
And speaking of same, I ran across these over at Golden Age of Comic Book Stories:
I am a huge fan of Blakeslee who went from an aviation co. artist to a pulp artist of great renown.
So, call me crazy (wouldn't be the first time!), but something is dragging me off into the wild blue.
I'll have to start the assembly process for Rip Rocket a little earlier than planned.
But isn't that how it always is in pulp?
No comments:
Post a Comment