Dave Kiersh

Burnt Eyes

2011-04-09T14:10:00.000-07:00

Drawn after the completion of my book Afterschool Special in 2011, but written in 2009. I originally imagined this as an angry spoken word piece that I might recite at an open mic night a la Jimmy Reardon. So to quote a young River Phoenix: "I'm desperate!"

This was probably scribbled down somewhere in a notebook, once upon a time, on the Long Island Railroad. But the sentiment stayed with me when I moved to Boston and spent many an hour stuck in traffic while driving to work. I wondered if there was a way out, a chance to change, to become something different than what was expected of me, what I was born into. Looking out my window, I'd always stare into peoples windows in traffic. Often it was business men in suits. They always looked unhappy. With my fear of getting old, I wondered if this was my fate. And it scared me. I wanted out. This isn't so much a criticism of the previous generation or my parents, whom I love very much. Instead, it's the desire to transform while feeling trapped or fear of the inevitable. If only the fire could be extinguished and I could stare with bright open eyes once again.

Also, for those interested in this sort of thing, these pages were drawn completely digitally in Photoshop with a Wacom tablet unlike the pages in Afterschool Special that were drawn on paper and then scanned in. It's kind of weird for me to "go digital" like this because I've been know to go on rants about how much I dislike computers. Sometimes I wish computer technological progress ended with Pac-Man. When I imagine a world without the internet, life seems a little less cold, distant and lonely. I long for the days of hand written letters and phone conversations pre-text messaging when I twisted a long tangled chord around my fingers. And when discovering something was really A DISCOVERY, rather than just a google search. See, that's how it goes. I am already a relic of the past. How can I write about youth anymore?

*update*
August 20, 2011

This will be my last post on this blog. I am taking a break from comics to work on my first young adult novel.

*update*
January 12, 2012

I am currently running a Kickstarter campaign to fund the printing of this book.
Go here:
KICKSTARTER

They call her EASY

2011-03-18T00:07:00.000-07:00

This is the chapter where I have two characters walking around and talking. This could be really boring, visually, in comics and something I try to avoid: "Talking Heads". In order to make it more interesting, I tried to give this a sense of place. I actually used the High School near where I lived in Arlington, MA as a reference as well as my friend Lara's neighborhood, Winchester. Ultimately though, this is supposed to reflect my own Long Island High School that I attended in the mid 1990's as well as the neighborhood I grew up in (Plainview). Each of these chapters has references to my own personal obsessions. In the case of this chapter, it's one of my favorite books entitled Is Kissing A Girl Who Smokes Like Licking an Ashtray, published in 1992. I used the name Biff because it's the name of the main character in Randy's novel. Also, I made him a handball player because in Powell's novel, Biff always carries around a super bouncer ball.

The tile of this chapter, They Call Her Easy, is a song I like that Rex Smith sings on his first album. Rex Smith was the star of one of the best teen made-for-tv movies ever: Sooner or Later. This film by Bruce and Carole Hart was also a young adult book series with two sequels (novels only) written by the same authors.

The color cover here is a reference to the best 80's teen slasher pic: Slumber Party Massacre 2, which I've written a bit about here.

Are You In The House Alone?

2011-03-18T00:04:00.001-07:00

This is my tribute to 80's slasher movie set-ups that have been used over and over again. It's The Babysitter who gets a phone call from "a breather". In this case, it's an in-joke between the two characters to show that they immediately get each other. The movie stills on the tv screen are from Slumber Party Massacre 1 and 2. Both are movies that I enjoy, although I do admit to being a lot more obsessed with the latter. I think the "driller killer" interest started after seeing De Palma's Body Double on late night tv when I was a kid. It's a ridiculous effect and was used often in the 80's, but exaggerated to absurdity and great effect in SPM 2.

The house that the babysitter inhabits was based on an apartment I was living in at the time in Jamaica Plain, MA. I photographed my girlfriend and used those pictures as reference to give this sequence a more cinematic horror movie, predatory/voyeuristic feel with various angles that I have not previously used in the creation of my comics.

We live in a nostalgic culture now, where there are few original works and we are constantly referencing things from the past. I don't always like that, but I'm not sure if it can be helped at this point. The writer I admire who uses this brilliantly is Kevin Williamson. I was a fan of his TV show Dawson's Creek and later his movies including the SCREAM series which was his own witty and always timely commentary on the slasher movie genre.

The title of this chapter is also a reference to the book by Richard Peck that was made into a made-for-tv movie starring Kathleen Beller and Robin Mattson.

Balls To The Wall

2011-03-17T23:56:00.000-07:00

The song referenced here is Balls To The Wall by Accept which I often heard on MTV while growing up and the lyrics puzzled me as a kid. Later I learned that these hard-hitting metal lines were not written by any of the band members, but by their producer, who happened to be a woman. I love this sort of back handed unexpected feminism, probably the same reason I am such a fan of Deborah Brocks's Slumber Party Massacre movie.

This sequence comes from memories of three friends I had while I was in 9th grade. The first friend's mom smoked pot in the living room and his stepfather threw his stereo out the window. The second friend and I once chucked some tennis balls stolen from a public court at a security guard while perched atop a warehouse. And the third friend sprayed graffiti all over his neighborhood leading up to his house. I always knew how to get there on my bike without using a map. So that's where this comes from.

...this story continues here.

Poor Lisa

2010-12-31T14:09:00.000-08:00

Another chapter from Afterschool Special. This one was written in Florida and drawn in Arizona.

These sequences where a character walks around alone at night are closest to my heart. King Kullen is an actual Long Island supermarket chain and I worked as a supermarket check-out boy when I was 18. The people who work at supermarkets always seem sad to me. I used to love to frequent supermarkets late at night though. On Long Island, most of them were open 24 hours and there was something romantic about the muzak and the neon lightning. I'd often fill up carts only to leave them abandoned, a delinquent trick I picked up after reading Robert Cormier's famous YA novel I Am The Cheese.

The magazine covers are based on news items I remember vividly from when I was in High School. I loved Punky Brewster but then hearing about Soleil Moon Frye's surgery in People magazine was kind of an inappropriate surprise. Sometimes I wish celebrities lives could be kept more private. I also recall watching OJ's Bronco chase live on TV more vividly than tv images of the Gulf War. We live in a world of bizarre media influences. They're unavoidable.

I've always had a thing for roller rinks, drive-ins and arcades because I had fond memories of visiting them as a kid and they all quickly seemed to disappear as I grew up. I've often thought of writing a story that takes place in a roller rink and have attempted it several times. But then I got the CD of The Rink with Liza Minnelli (probably Kander & Ebb's greatest flop) and thought that that said it better than I could. I love that musical and hope to create something equally powerful within my lifetime.

Rollerskating rinks play another important part in my personal history. Once on a date at one in New Jersey, I slipped and broke my leg. The break was so bad, that I couldn't stand up. The DJ had to announce to everyone to clear the floor. For five minutes kids yelled "PUSSY" at me while I waited for an ambulance to arrive.

And for the record, YES, I do love the Golden Girls. I think it's one of the funniest tv series ever made and it always cheers me up no matter how down and out I'm feeling.

Some other notes:

The Skate Rink logo that I have used here and in several of my other books is based on the logo from the Roger Corman produced B-movie about a Roller Derby team called Unholy Rollers. Not a great film by any means, but worth checking out because of an appearance by one of my favorite character actors Dick Miller. And I think it was also one of the first things Martin Scorsese ever worked on (as an editor?).

The color illusrtation at top is based on this photograph I took (below) at a roller rink in Tucson, Arizona that still looks like something out of the 1980's.

Picture above of a teenage Soleil Moon Frye is an example of a magazine that Lisa would be reading at the supermarket in this story.

amusements

2010-12-18T10:16:00.000-08:00

Amusements: This is another chapter from my book Afterschool Special.

Notes:

I used to live near an amusement park called Adventureland on Long Island. This was the place that inspired the writer and director of the recent film of the same tile. Like the characters in that movie, I was still frequenting Adventureland when I was way too old to be there. I also once snuck into The Westbury Drive-In theater, the last one of its kind on Long Island which has long since closed. I believe the last movie I saw there was Bride of Chucky back in 1998.

My character Jed performing here was inspired by an act I saw in Canobie Lake Amusement Park a couple of years back. There was a kid doing some really entertaining Elvis impersonations and no one seemed to be watching or caring at all except for a couple of old ladies (and me!).

SE Hinton's The Outsiders is of course probably the greatest book about teenagers that was actually written by a teenager. I used it in my first job as a literacy teacher when I was 21 and working with 8th grade students and it was the only way I was able to connect with them.

Last, but not least, I was very sad to learn about the death of Corey Haim in 2010. I am being sincere when I say that he was an actor I always related to. It was unfortunate that he seemed stuck in the past and could never outgrow his childstar persona. He leaves behind an amazing legacy though with films such as Lucas and Dream a Little Dream and License To Drive. I consider these amongst the most essential classic teen flicks from the 80's.

from Afterschool Special

2010-12-10T21:53:00.001-08:00

This concludes Afterschool Special. The title of this book stems from both the CBS Schoolbreak Specials and ABC Afterschool Special series I watched as a kid that aired from the late 70's through the 90's. Many of these teenage dilemma programs were based on children's or young adult novels. In the 80's, The Degrassi Series adapted this issue-oriented storytelling into an ongoing show with repetitive characters. Many other teen shows would follow in it's path such as My So Called Life and Beverly Hills 90210. For example, this scene provided indirect inspiration.
Growing Pains was another important "teenage issues" show that worked as a sitcom comedy rather than a drama and I loved it because it supposedly took place on Long Island. I had a crush on Tracey Gold and always thought of her as a neighbor. Kirk Cameron, from that same show, is pictures here as Lisa's fantasy. My older sister had a fold out poster of him from TeenBeat magazine hanging in her closet for a long time. Kirk's photo used in the comic is from this book: Also, for those counting, this is my second reference to Soleil Moon-Frye in this book.

I am not claiming that this comic resembles an actual Afterschool Special. Instead, I wanted to make a fictional story that reflected upon my own experiences as a teenager in order to put into words and pictures some of these emotions. My comics work tends to be emotional driven, rather than story driven. I hope there is something that you, the reader, can relate to here. This work has been the culmination of years of experimentation, trying to get it just right. For example, here is a similar sequence that I did more than ten years prior when I was still a teenager.

Another popular TV show I grew up watching was The Wonder Years. The writers of the show originally intended to have it set in Huntington, NY although it was actually filmed in Burbank, CA. And even though mountains and palm trees could be seen in the distance, the show is imbued with the sentiments and nostalgia of a Long Island that I imagine existed before I was born. I attribute this show's setting in the early 1970's to my ongoing love of material (YA novels and films) from this decade. There is just something about both the fashion and style that is an endless source of love and fascination for me. I love you Winnie Cooper!

Afterschool Special, Dirtbags and Neverland all take place in a fictionalized version of "Plainview", the actual town on Long Island where I grew up. But through the years, this town has evolved in my mind and become a deeper place attributed to my imagination. Like with The Wonder Years, there are mountains there now too and possibly even some palm trees. Plainview will be explored in more depth in my forthcoming book.

My next project will be titled House Party Massacre and it will be my most complex work to date. It will also be a novel, rather than a comic. This is something I've been wanting to work on for years. Unlike this graphic novella, I will not be posting House Party Massacre online. At least not until it's complete, which shouldn't be until the summer of 2012. I suppose the eventual goal would be to find a publisher for that. But right now, I'm just concerned with the challenge of writing.

Until then, thanks for reading!

My other books are:

Neverland
Dirtbags, Mallchicks and Motorbikes (sample)
A Last Cry For Help

*Afterschool Special was intended to be a printed publication, but I have yet to find anyone interested in helping me put it to print. HELP! (ha, ha)

You may also download a free digital copy of the book from MagCloud.

Also, be sure to check out my TEEN PULP page on facebook.

and for more Afterschool Special nostalgia check out my MUSEUM

Sketchbook pages from ACA residence

2010-11-24T22:27:00.000-08:00

In October 2010 I attended a Graphic Novel Residency at the Atlantic Center for the Arts in Florida. Above are some pages from this time. If you read this, you'll see that part of my "education" was visiting a strip club with fellow artists Jed McGowan and Pat Grant . It would be no exaggeration to say I love and miss those dudes and all the other people I met at this summer camp for cartoonists.

Afterschool Special

2010-09-17T08:58:00.000-07:00

So, I've finally started work on a new book.

Here is a brief summary:

The story focuses on Jed, a jaded 17 year old musician who plays guitar for an Elvis impersonator at an amusement park. He has moved to a new town to live with his hippy aunt after his mother passes away. Feeling isolated, his thoughts begin to drift into creepy territory with horror movies as his reference for normal teenage social interactions. While cutting school, he meets Lisa, a tough but cute chain smoking girl who recently had an abortion. As their relationship progresses into something special, Jed's fantasies begin to bare a closer resemblance to reality. But for Lisa, the future is about nostalgia and sex is out of the question.

AFTERSCHOOL SPECIAL
is the story of Jed and Lisa's romance. It is a story about weeding out fantasy to find the true meaning of love. It is about friendship triumphing over sex and of confused adolescent emotions.
It is the story of the fear of growing up versus the disappointment in staying young forever.

Update:
June 20th, 2011

Well, I worked on this project for several months and it turned out quite different than I had originally planned. It's not quite dramatic as the description above. Instead, I went for something more subtle that reflected on my own experiences as a teen growing up on Long Island. There is a lot of personal material in this thing. The book is only a bit over 100 pages. Just the sort of slim book that I think I would be attracted to as a Young Adult. It is my hope to eventually print this in a slim two color volume in an edition and size similar to my Neverland book. However, as of yet, publishers don't seem to be interested. Also, I can't really "do it myself" as I'd like, without the funding. So I'm not really not sure if this book will ever see print as it was intended to. Nevertheless, I'm proud of this book and wish it would find an appreciative audience.

Summer 2010 sketchbook

2010-08-25T07:34:00.000-07:00

I stopped drawing comics for a while but was sketching all the time throughout 2009-2010 and I think these drawings are some of my best non-narrative work. I would like to eventually make a print version of these sketchbooks available if there was an interest. However, for now, what I have are some samples on my facebook page. So instead of some art gallery space, here's what I got:
sketchbook here

...And here is a picture of my good friend Lara in front of some of my drawings (on an actual wall!). Amazing friends are hard to come by. Lara is the best! We became pals while living in Boston and I'm so glad to have met her and her family. I think she is the only person to have ever purchased some of my original art. She is currently at work on a novel and I know it's going to be awesome! I miss you Lara!

LP

2010-07-21T20:01:00.000-07:00

A Lost Pleasure

Georgia. It's 6:00 in the morning.
Where are you?
It's been about 10 years or so.
Are you married now?
Did you love me then?
The way that I loved you.
We were friends.

The timing was wrong.
I had a girlfriend.
That ended a long time ago.
And then I lived a second life.

Still, that something in your eyes,
the memory of that brings me back...
eyes that entered into my soul.
& I'd follow your rainbow-
colored pants
wherever you went.

You went to Seattle,
you went to Japan.
I saved all the letters you sent.
So sorry I never wrote back.
& now I can't remember your last name.

The handmade cookbook you made
is one of my prized possessions.
But you didn't write your name.
Only Georgia.
Now I have no way
of reaching you.

Remember that trip we took together?
We talked nonstop for hours.
I wanted to hold your hand.
You were so pretty.
But I felt uncomfortable around your friends.

The couple who drank sangrias.
And openly bathed nude in the river.
And had loud sex upstairs.
While we were trying to sleep downstairs.
I guess they thought I was a prude
or something.

The boyfriend asked me:
"what turns you on, man?"
I was afraid to answer.
Maybe now...
I don't even know the answer.

Georgia.
You were there for a moment.
And you electrified me.
Did you feel it too?

What is love anyway?
If it doesn't go both ways.

It's a lost pleasure.

___________________________
XXOO

THE BUD

The bud
stands for all things,
even for those things that don't flower,
for everything flowers, from within, of self-blessing;
though sometimes it is necessary
to reteach a thing its loveliness,
to put a hand on the brow of the flower,
and retell it in words and in touch,
it is lovely,
until it flowers again from within, of self-blessing

by galway kinnell

Thank you Fiona. For being my BUD.

La La Land

2010-07-18T19:01:00.000-07:00

the following is a script idea I had for an illustrated book; a sort of idealistic dream. I put it on hold but may get back to it sometime. Somehow managed to accidentally delete all the artwork completed for this from my computer. In the meantime, here is the somewhat disjointed text.

Alcatraz Dream.

1.

I was having the Indian Dream:

Rich white men who have been partying all night
mock us from their yacht.
Patting hands to their mouths,
like Hollywood's idea of an injun brave
& belting out a loud
"WOO WOO WOO".

Chief and I try not to let this bother us.
We are no longer in our civilian clothes.
Instead, we have donned our head dresses and mocassins.
We have approached the island costumed as if this were some ephemeral documentary of America's past.

It is 1969 and we are Alcatraz Island.
We are here to claim what is ours.

This place may have few resources & services but that is fine by us.
We grew up as the silent majority on the reservation.
Equal rights were never part of the picture.
Now, we yearn for freedom.

We have landed on the rock and made it our turtle.
We will turn this penitentiary into a home.
The lighthouse will become a huge totem pole.
It is here that we will be free of government control and regulations.
Free of capitalism and the American Way.
Free now to truly make our choices.

The time to be alive is now.
We are no longer relics.
Wooden figures in front of cigar stores
souvenir shops selling trinkets.
No, this is our peaceful rebellion.

I climb up the water tower.
I paint the words for all to see.
This is our uprising.
You are now on Indian land!

4.

Mom's hand is on my shoulder. She is attempting to wake me from the dream. I open my eyes and realize I am much further away from San Francisco than I thought. I am in bed, in my room, in my mother's house in suburban Long Island. It is time to go to work. I left high school early because I was bored. But mom doesn't care that I have a job. She wants me to apply for college. She wants me to have a future. So I get up out of bed with some reluctance. "Did you mail in the application" she asks? "Yes", I lie.

(two images - home exterior/ bedroom interior).

5.

These homes built in the 1950's
stick to you like rock & roll
with a syrupy nostalgia
that does not age well

I never questioned it in my youth
But now, at age 18, it seems so phony
To cling to your parent's aspirations
To believe in the American Dream.

High tension wires
that could snap at any moment
make it dangerous
to walk down the street

but they hardly ever snap
Instead, they poison us slowly,
overtime. they infect us like cancer
but we are blind to the fact.
Computers, cell phones and mobile devices are killing us.
This sort of progress will be the death of me.

Once there were Indians here.
But we stripped them of their land.
Built farms and cultivated war.
Destroyed the farms to make way for roads.
Then highways, parkways,
thruways, expressways.
Now, with all this traffic,
can't you see it didn't quicken the pace?

Strip malls with neon signs
Promising to make our lives easier.
But the faces in the cars adjacent look miserable.
Struggling just to keep up the pace.
It makes me want to drive faster.
It makes me want to crash.

3.

(space artwork)

I have a job but if they knew the truth, I'd be fired. I'm a thief. Stealing for good reason. This place was once stocked with an incredible collection of space paintings. Everything from detailed gouche pictures of Mars, Nebulae, constellations, black holes and aliens. Eventually, funding ceased, staff were fired and the hottest ticket on the planetarium bill became the Pink Floyd laser light show. I figure that by banking the artwork used to create the slides in the original Night Sky program, I am basically saving what will be thrown out later. One dude's trash is another's treasure. In this sense, I like to think of myself as a conservationist/ an archivist.

(the planetarium with projector)

The most expensive piece of equipment remains dead center. The Goto star projector cost over a million in 1970. Within the darkened dome it creates the illusion of the night sky with each star carefully aligned to the correct coordinates. However, years of abuse have caused the machine to make a slight grinding noise when turning and rotating. And it is not that uncommon for a fuse to blow during the middle of the show, often causing the stars in the entire Western Hemisphere's Night Sky to vanish.

(the console).

I operate the machine from the console in the back of the planetarium. The show runs automatically on a DOS program. I was hired to make repairs, such as replacing light bulbs on the slide projectors that align the perimeter of the dome. The console is lit up with a colorful series of buttons, knobs and levers that can be used to manually control the show. Their glow beckons to me from the darkness as I look in upon the disappointed and bored looks of the paying audience. After seeing the show for the 100th time, I feel the need to set aside science in the name of entertainment. Directly against my supervisor's instructions, I flick off the auto pilot switch. With a new sense of power, I grin with the realization that I now have complete control over this mini universe.

(dome with stars/ homes)

The dry narration over the speakers continues with a description of the constellations. However, the constellations are almost impossible to find now. This is because I have turned the knob that controls the rotation dead right. The machine is slowly clunking and turning, but gaining momentum. Above, the stars are rushing by in the sky as if they were filmed using time lapse photography. But even better. Because the dome takes up the entire ceiling, this creates the illusion that the room is actually spinning. I see a few kids hold tight onto their seats. I click off the tape and announce into the microphone, "We are now entering hyperspace".

(the crowd - public audience)

I pop my mix of heavy metal songs from the 1980's out of my walkman and into the planetarium's main cassette deck, replacing "The Constellations Are Your Friend". Black Sabbath sounds terrific on this sound system. I attempt to coordinate effects to drum rolls and guitar solos. As the stars to continue to spin, I press the play button on the laserdisc player. Over to the West, a realistic rendition of a supernovae explodes onto the dome. I then press a button labeled Aurora Borealis.
Colorful glowing lights appear behind me, shimmering to the North. I turn a knob to dim them, so as not to take away the dizzying effect of the stars. I switch on the lever labeled lightning which creates a continuous strobe effect throughout the room. As it blinks, I notice faces in the crowd looking unsettled, possibly nauseaus. Finally, I grab the super soaker water gun used for the purpose of modestly sprinkling the crowd during the rainstorm sequence. I proceed to douse them.

(fire and chaos)

Some begin shrieking while others applaud. The crowd is a mix of confusion and amusement. But even I am surprised when the sturdy 30+ year old Goto, my monstrous star projector, starts shining with an inner glow of orange, rather than white light. The thing has caught on fire from the inside and bulbs are beginning to burst. POP POP POP. I try to reduce the friction that has caused the overheating, but not even the emergency button will stop its momentum now. Flames are beginning to pop out of the tiny holes designated for light. As the goto continues to spin, now in flames, the night sky replica on the domed ceiling is transformed into what looks like the pit of hell. I quickly pop on the magnets to the electric emergency exits. The crowd begins scurrying out in a panic. I am left alone to battle the blast with the small amount of water that remains in my super soaker.

(empty and out)

I hurdle over the console with my weapon and begin pumping and spraying. But with flames now appearing on the ceiling it's hard to tell if it's any use. It's hot in here and I am beginning to feel anxiety over the repercussions of this incredibly irresponsible fuck-up. Then, this anxiety quickly turns to fear as I realize that I too am on fire. Remembering what I learned in grade school, I immediately "stop, drop and roll". The roll however is done with such force that I hit my head against the metal arm of a chair and almost immediately knock myself unconscious.

XXX

2.

I was having the Indian nightmare:

It is nighttime and one of our buildings is on fire.
This is not the first accident. We have been here only over a year
and already we have been besieged by difficulties. A child has died
because of our efforts. And we grieve. It is 1970.

Chief and I had talked about one day destroying these buildings.
Some complain of ghosts. I just want to see them replaced by teepees.
But the timing isn't right. It's obviously too soon. Or too late?

The government has invaded, removing the water barge last May. In effect this has left us
without fresh water or firefighting capability.

This particular fire was set by a white man, but no doubt the blame will
fall on us. Will the public take our side? Or are stereotypes too strong?
We are not dirty, lazy misfits.

The building burns to the ground which leaves us only one thing
left to do. We form a circle. And we sing. We dance.
For our dead ancestors.
For all that is lost.

For our pride.
Indians of all tribes --- It is time to UNITE!

7.

Hospital exterior
Hospital Interior

I wake up in a hospital room. I'm in bed and there are bandages on my left hand. It feels numb. The rest of me looks okay, but I check myself out under the blankets to make sure. It seems like only my hand got burnt. And there is a large bump on my head. The room is small and I am alone.

It seems to me that someone will enter this room soon. I'll have some explaining to do. This frightens me. Can I say it was an accident? Did anyone else get hurt? Will I be sued, putting myself and my family in debt for all eternity?

Dizzy as I am, I slide my legs to the edge of the bed and sit up. I am draped in a hospital gown, my clothes nowhere to be found. Even so, I feel like I need to escape. To run away from whatever fate is facing me.

As I am about to get up, the door slides open and the most beautiful girl I have ever seen enters the room...

8.

Romance

In all of my fantasies, if there had ever been an answer to my prayers, Lisa Lightfoot is it. She has gentler, rounder features than most Indians and her naturally dark skin contrasts beautifully with her candy-striper uniform. She is the only reason I hadn't dropped out of High School earlier. I yearned to talk to her, but never had the nerve. Yet now, here she is. And here am I, practically naked besides a hospital gown that barely covers my bottom.

"Hello"
"Hi, how are you feeling?"

I smile at her. Her voice relaxes me.

"You go to Plainview High, right? I used to sit behind you in Math class."
"Yeah, that's right. Steve isn't it?"
"No, it's David. You're Lisa, right?"
"Yes," she smiles.
"I didn't know you worked here".
"Yeah, well my father made me take the job. He's a doctor".
"Do you know how bad my hand is?"

I hold it up so she could see the bandages. She looks at her chart.

"The burns are only minor, except for on your ring finger. It's pretty severe there, but the Doctor's given you some local anesthetic. Are you in any pain?"
"No, just a bit dizzy from this bump on my head. Do you know how long I've been here?"
"Since earlier this evening. It's 2am now."
"Do you know if my parents are here?"
"They were earlier, but the Doctor thought it best not to wake you. You had a pretty bad concussion."
"I'm feeling okay now. A little worried though. I started a fire. It was an accident. Do you know if anyone else was hurt?"
"I don't think so"
"Were my parents upset?"
"No, but they did seem concerned."

I sigh, still sitting on the edge of the bed.
Lisa is close now, standing next to me.

"You really should lay down, get some rest."
"No, it's okay. I feel okay. I'm just worried. I mean, I think I screwed up. That fire...what if I did something awful?"
"Well, it's probably fine. I haven't heard anything."
"Yeah, but that machine, the projector, it'll probably cost thousands to repair..."
"Relax."

She places her hand on my leg.
I look up at her.
She really is beautiful.

"How come you don't come to math class anymore. Did you drop-out?"
"No, I accelerated. Graduated early."
"You must be smart."
"Not really. I just couldn't stand school. I want to be a cartoonist."

She sits down on the bed next to me.

"I think I know what you mean. I can't stand this nursing gig. To be honest, hospitals give me the creeps. My father makes me do it...says it will look good when I apply to Med Schools.
"Do you want to be a Doctor?"
"No, I don't think so. I mean, I'm seventeen years old. I don't know what I want to do with the rest of my life. All I know is that tonight is Friday night and I should be out having fun. Not stuck here checking up on old, sick people."
"Well, I'm not sick or old...just a bit burnt."

She laughs.

"You know, I'm surprised you remember me. I sometimes felt like the invisible man in High School."
"Well, maybe it would be better if you looked up once in a while from doodling in your notebook."
"I did from time to time. And the person I noticed was you."

She smiles.

"I know your name is David. I was just trying not to be obvious. I actually had a crush on you in school but was too shy to say anything. Then you left and I thought I'd never see you again."
"You're putting me on. I'm the one who had a crush on you. You're the prettiest girl in the school."
"The only Indian girl. I think most boys are afraid of me."
"Not afraid, just intimidated. You look so self-confident."
"I'm not. I'm totally insecure. If I was able to stand up for myself, I'd say no to my father. I wouldn't even be working here."
"But I'm glad you're here now."
"Me too. I'm not even supposed to be in this Unit tonight. But I recognized you when they brought you in, so i switched with another candy striper. I thought, what the hell, this might be a way for us to introduce ourselves."
"I couldn't be happier".

I lean over and kiss her.
To my surprise, she kisses me back.
Deeply.

"Does this add some excitement to your Friday evening?"
"Just a bit. But to be honest, I'm a bit tired and really don't feel like doing the rounds. Would you mind if I hid out in here?"
"Not at all".

She gets up and locks the door.

"Mind if I shut the lights?"

I am speechless.
She flicks them off and there is darkness.

I rest my head on the pillow and put my legs back under the blanket. A moment more...Lisa Lightfoot is beside me. I touch her hand to make sure I'm not dreaming. My heart is pounding.

Everything is going to be alright.

9.

The Big Bang Theory

The universe was once small and dense. Too dense for its own good. It exploded and that explosion continues to this day. Our world is constantly expanding. Now, it's so large that we have no idea of the vastness of it all. The universe is large and mysterious. So is sex.

The act of making love couldn't be simpler but it's filled with complications. Is it a momentous spark, a shudder of joy or is it real slow and easy? Will it turn into affection, compassion and extend throughout an eternity, a lifetime? On this subject, I do feel dense. But I'm not quite ready to explode. I'm afraid that when I do, things will become more complicated. That feelings/emotions will stretch beyond my control.

In the movies, people fall for each other and "do it". Rough and tumble with heavy breathing and a an orchestrated rock soundtrack. Here, it is different. Lisa Lightfoot lays beside me. It is quiet. She is sleeping. Why in the world would I want to ruin this moment.

I close my eyes and dream. I dream of a world without capitalism. I dream of a world where art isn't made for money. I dream of a world without automobiles. I imagine a family who cares for their land; a family that cares for each other. Of people who are not distanced because of economics. Of people with high moral standards. Of freeing people from the 9 to 5 work/slave ethic. Of people who have suffered and thrived.
AND eventually I fall asleep, drifting further into La La Land.

These are lofty dreams. Dreams beyond my control. But I do not care about saving the world so much. When it comes down to it, I just want to smile. To feel happy. to have Lisa Lightfoot, this beautiful stranger, by my side. So I smile.

waiting for love to save me

2010-07-11T17:46:00.000-07:00

Dating is rough. Relationships are tougher. I used to think this sort of stuff would get easier as I got older but unfortunately that hasn't proven true. This is another excerpt from my 2009-2010 sketchbooks (unpublished).

2010-06-07T17:10:00.002-07:00

2010-06-07T17:10:00.001-07:00

2010-05-11T11:13:00.001-07:00

Photo w/ Jen and our silkscreen collaboration (bottom right).

2010-05-02T14:43:00.001-07:00

more scenes from my world...

2010-04-13T20:46:00.000-07:00

Also...a few new comic strips here:
1, 2, 3

and a drawing for Jen... here

Buck Rogers inspired poster...

2010-03-31T20:08:00.001-07:00

AND:
I say they don't make 'em like they used to...

Alcatraz Dream

2010-03-23T19:27:00.000-07:00

I have SLOWLY begun work on my new book:

Alcatraz Dream.

It will be a picture book dealing with my fantasies of:

The American Dream

Suburbia

Indians

Planetariums

Astronomy

Sex

I hope to complete this, well... eventually.

June 2011 Update:

Or Never, I guess. Here are the notes for this one. Kind of funny how I ended up living near Alcatraz in San Francisco though. Does life imitate art or vice versa?

2010-03-03T17:31:00.000-08:00

BUDS

1.

Indifference
Without feeling
I am a stranger
An imposter
Looking for group activity
A queer religion

Stuck on the side
of the highway

Broken egg with
A message inside

Shattered

We are like two trees
Growing side by side

2.

Inside of me
There is the younger me
This boy of 6 years old

Outside of me
Plants are growing
Wind is blowing
And I am a leaf
Tossing about

Money means nothing to me
Career even less

I want to drift
I want to play

The body is a cage
If I am not free
I am a prisoner

Sometimes a shadow is more real
And I need the nightitme
As proof that I still exist

3.

I squint my eyes
The reflection of trees on lake
Water is sky
Rorschach Shapes
Giant butterflies in the darkness
I am in the corner
On a rock
In a pocket

A plane flying overhead
Has tiny lights
That appear like bugs in water
People are tiny

If there is so much to see
Why remain still
Why remain at all

Stop thinking
At night...
the abstract is real

4.

We are in the park
Resting on the grass
Surrounded by skyscrapers
But I am imagining we are in the desert
With only the starry sky above us

Take away all the distractions
I want to know you
So can you look at me?
Instead of away

I have to know if you believe in something
Something beyond nightlife, TV shows and work.

Faith doesn't have to be religion
The important thing is believing in the invisible
And for this, I want to be seen

I believe in peace
I believe in love

Do you believe in me?

RAINBOW

2010-01-25T17:35:00.000-08:00

working on new posters

2010-01-13T10:16:00.000-08:00

color

2009-10-03T11:36:00.000-07:00

sketchbook pages 1

2009-10-03T11:27:00.001-07:00

This is kind of what my dreams look like ( with the sex parts edited out ).

july 09

2009-07-25T19:15:00.001-07:00

I suppose part of me will always want to hang out in parking lots and then go see a late night horror movie ( Freddy's Dead! ).

what's on tv?

2009-03-14T15:03:00.000-07:00

cruisin'

2009-02-04T09:34:00.001-08:00

Roller Rink Nostalgia
pining for something that doesn't exist
was it what I saw in a movie
or heard about as a child
A life spent searching for this one thing
I can never put my hands on.

just round and round

I know the place existed
although it is abandoned now.
the neon glow no longer flickers
the painted sign cracked

no direction

rows of brown and orange skates
and then...lacing up my rentals
waiting for our song
elated with the disco lights

going round and round

Remember when we shared a pizza
sipped out of two straws
in the same Slush Puppy?
She held my hand

She held my hand

french girl

2009-01-23T13:39:00.000-08:00

This one is actually based on a French girl that I met in High School. She was HOT! We never actually kissed though. SIGH!

girls illustrations

2009-01-19T11:25:00.000-08:00

The Party (story from my book)

2008-10-03T20:53:00.001-07:00

The above is a sample story from my book: Dirtbags, Mallchicks and Motorbikes.

You can read another story from the book here: That's My Baby

I wrote a forward and afterword to the book, but finally decided to exclude them. Too many words, in the end, I wanted the book to be more about the pictures. Anyway, for the curious, here is the text:

ONE

Autobiography never seemed appropriate to my situation.
In order to distance myself, I gave myself a new name. Kelvin, a measurement of heat, was etched out in chalk at the front of my chemistry class. I took it on as my new identity in the pretend movie that was my life. The thought came to me that maybe I should start taking notes just in case something did happen. The scrawl on the blackboard no longer mattered to me. It was easy to copy that from someone else. Instead, I turned to a new piece of loose leaf in my binder. I jotted down the title "Experiments in Heat" on a blank piece of paper.

Kelvin, was a small depressed kid with tired eyes. He was the first of many characters that began to occupy my notebook during my senior year. Other types included "the bear". He was a rugged, dirty, rebellious teen who often came to school drunk or high on philosophy; my archetypal dirtbag. There was also Heather Ray, the school tennis champ, who was perpetually disappointing her parents. And lastly, there were the mallchicks, a culmination of all the chatty, popular, cheerleaders that peeked my interest as mysteries that I'd never be able to solve.

The characters, crudely drawn, were a reflection of myself and my odd suburban high school surroundings. I was proud of my work. So proud in fact, that college seemed of little importance now. Surely, it was now my fate to become a famous cartoonist. My head was in the clouds.

When I did go to college, Kelvin became the boy who disappeared. He was a character that didn't seem able to survive past adolescence. I was growing up and trying to put my insecurities behind me. The boy with sad eyes was gone. Still, I was escaping. I dreamed of running away, buying a motorcycle and going off into the wild. Instead, comics became my secret rebellion.

The following stories are the end result of over ten years of work. From doodles, to comic strips, to mini-comics and various other experiments in heat, I finally came to a style that is as I had originally imagined it. Make what you will of this book. You won't find my original character, Kelvin, in these stories. Instead, if you look hard enough, or if you care to, you'll find evidence of an even stranger one. Me.

TWO

I didn't know what my problem was. Too many times I had been told by my teachers that I had potential, if only I applied myself. While students around me were busy solving an algebra equation, I sat doodling in the back. Staring out the window, I could make out a dirty couple smoking pot beyond the football field. They looked like they were in love. I felt disappointed. I wasn't sure whether or not I wanted to fit in or drop out. I couldn't seem to do either.

I cut class to attend the various therapy sessions my high school offered. Substance Abuse Group and the Children of Divorced Parents Club sounded better than Math class. I wanted to see someone cry. Maybe I could be their friend. No such luck. During the meetings, I was quiet. These kids had more substantial dilemmas than me. I listened to their confessions as if I was observing an afterschool special. Mostly, I was amused but still in search of something more romantic.

I was sick of sitting in the cafeteria by myself. I eyed a long-haired acne-ridden loner who had an Elfquest patch on his backpack. He interested me but when I heard rumors that he had scored a perfect 1600 on his SATs, I suddenly felt intimidated. I opted for a place outside, watching the girl's tennis team practice. It seemed forbidden.

After I quit the track team, my social life seemed to go downhill. In a sense, I was still running. My pace slowed toward this destination unknown in hopes of reaching some invisible goal. I graduated from High School early, but this was no real achievement. I'd disappeared from my peers and made hardly an impression.

It was during this in-between time that I was still unburdened by adult responsibilities. I'd take long drives on the Long Island Expressway after midnight. I'd roam the aisles of the 24 hour supermarket and make photocopied zines at the copy shop. I developed crushes on girls that worked at cafes and bookshops.

My rationalization of my pathetic social life was that I was an outsider, a rebel without a cause. I identified more with Sal Mineo than James Dean. Seeking an entrance into my teenage technicolor fantasy, I secured a job at a planetarium. Instead of switchblade fights, I became engulfed in a world of geeky sci-fi and children's entertainment. I started to think that even my heroes needed to be more obscure.

I needed to distance myself. My escape was through the library. I became addicted to checking out old paperbacks with gaudy, neon covers. I immersed myself in the books of Paul Zindel and somehow this made up for all of my lack of experience. His novel, Confessions of A Teenage Baboon, was tragic. But it was a lovely, exciting tragedy with a plot and characters that made my heart race. I wanted to know people like this. I didn't.

Later, I found a closer connection to the cartoonist turned writer Kin Platt. I had always been interested in comic book history. When I discovered that the creator of Supermouse had gone on to scribe controversial young adult novels, I was intrigued. The psycho-sexual world of his books Flames Going Out and Dudley Cornflower were almost parodies of the teenage fiction that I had devoured. The far-out humor in his books resulted from an over-the-top pile up of tragedies that bordered on being exploitation. I put his work on the pedestal as high art. And I still do.

With this new found obsession, I would find the hero I had been looking for. One of Platt's books, The Boy Who Could Make Himself Disappear, had been made into a film. I needed to see it. Never released on VHS or DVD, it became impossible to find. So I opted for seeing another movie that featured the film's star actor, Scott Jacoby. Rivals (1972) seemed to fit directly into the oeuvre of weird 1970's mental breakdowns that I had visualized when reading Platt's books. To my delight, I would continue seeking out films that Scott appeared in. Whatever role he played, he was habitually cast as the teenage outsider. Scott immediately became my cult icon, because his acting career pretty much ended after his late teens. He would remain for me the ideal of a sensitive, aggressively estranged relic and embodiment of my teenage dilemma. The story in this book titled Motorbikes, is loosely based on my favorite Scott appearance in an episode of the TV show Marcus Welby MD.

I feel the need to explain myself. Why did these random non-experiences and diversions of my youth become my inspiration? I'm sure my teachers would be disappointed. They'd tell me that my stories need to be longer or have happier endings. Or perhaps they'd question what exactly these stories are or where they fit in. Perhaps they don't fit in. That is why I've seen the need to create them. In the comics format I love. A medium that often has difficulty being categorized. This is not a graphic novel, nor a poem or a song. For me, the process has been a problem solved. And one that I've enjoyed far more than even the most complicated question on a standardized test. For if life is truly like a multiple choice question, then all of the above, as an answer, is probably incorrect. I'm over it.

junk

2008-09-11T19:50:00.000-07:00

not my small diary

2008-08-30T16:52:00.000-07:00

I am a regular contributor to the annual zine Not My Small Diary. Next year's issue is #15, dealing with the theme of 15 minutes of fame. I dug into one of my old journals and pulled out something on topic to illustrate. Written several years ago, this is a shameful and somewhat stupid entry. Still, I thought it would be fun to draw in the style which I drew Neverland. I did this one quick, without any preliminary sketches (what you see is what you get). So it's a bit crude, but I think it fits the tone...a sort of throwback to my earliest mini-comics. I also realize this one might be a bit offensive. But hey, it's supposed to be a diary entry after all. Okay? Well...

welcome home brave part 1 (click for full size images)

2008-08-19T15:09:00.000-07:00

welcome home brave part 2 (click for full size images)

2008-08-16T21:00:00.000-07:00

new books and stuff

2008-06-05T07:29:00.000-07:00

My latest book, NEVERLAND, is now available from www.bodegadistribution.com. $6 dollars and free shipping for a limited time. Also, ask your local comic store to order you a copy through the Diamond previews catalog.

In other news, I recently found out I was awarded the 2008 Xeric Grant. So, yes, there will be a full color self-published comic out by me later this year! I'm hoping that this will be part of a series and am very thankful to the Xeric Foundation for their help.

(above image is for a postcard of an event put together by Fiona Logusch that also features artwork by Lauren Leone and Diana Pyatov.)

also, I have drawings and posters on display at magpie in Davis Square (somerville, MA). There will be a party there on July 23rd at 7:00.

Natty's Arcade (published in Meathaus SOS)

2008-03-13T07:20:00.001-07:00

Notes:
Originally published in the book Meathaus SOS.
The title "Natty's" is a reference to Natty from The Peach Pit on Beverly Hills 90210, one of my favorite television programs from the 90's. But even more so, this comic is referencing the Nathan's restaurant and arcade in Farmingdale, NY that I lived near. Finally, this sequence was also inspired by one of my favorite tv movies entitled Silence of The Heart that starred Chad Lowe. There is a sequence int he beginning of the film where he has a heart to heart conversation with his best friend (a girl) in a pizza place/ arcade where they both work.

a crazy year

2008-02-02T20:33:00.000-08:00

-------------->: www.davekcomics.com

link above to my recently completed website. this past year, I took somewhat of a break from doing my comics and sketchbooks. Decided to learn lots of computer stuff which resulted in an update on my style and more of an interest in design. Also, stopped working as a children's librarian and began making an effort to make a career out of creative endeavors. All in all, it's been a crazy year!

letting loose...my drawings on a wall

2008-01-11T07:03:00.001-08:00

puzzles

2008-01-04T10:46:00.001-08:00

valentine for mary martin

2007-11-14T13:48:00.001-08:00

a maze or amazing?

2007-10-21T19:15:00.001-07:00

Neverland (complete)

2007-10-21T19:13:00.001-07:00

Neverland was published by Bodega Distribution (Randy Chang) and distributed through Diamond. You can probably find a used copy through Amazon.

when we were young

2007-09-04T20:35:00.001-07:00

Teenage Neverland.
A dizzyland of the place where I grew up. Only in my dreams, like walks at night when the sky is somehow more vast and takes precedence. My neighborhood is a circle with paths & mysterious trails through the woods. I cherish the quiet, bugs whispering like a gentle choir.

Peter sneaks into the windows of the girls that he loves. I am too old to be a lost boy, but I am still lost. The land of night, of stars, is vast…things on the ground are small. Homes, trees…everything is close. But it might be a million a miles away. Like the girl next door. The flickering light of her TV screen. Why not walk out onto your roof. I can meet you there.

neverland (part 1)

2007-08-28T12:27:00.001-07:00

(Click on images for larger details)

neverland (part 2)

2007-08-25T22:58:00.001-07:00

Insecure (mock-up cover)

2007-08-25T16:52:00.001-07:00

BLUE--(some recent comics)

2007-08-19T18:08:00.000-07:00

driving...

2007-07-29T19:23:00.001-07:00

Excuses…excuses….

I really can’t complain ‘cause a guy never had it better. What more can you ask for than a pretty girlfriend who loves you?

Well, I’m sorry, but I felt like a failure. It wasn’t her. It was me. I wanted some sort of success. To be an artist, however laughable that might be to you.

Working as a children’s librarian just didn’t cut it for me. It’s the type of position that makes me question my masculinity. I refuse to be called ma’am. This isn’t my mission.

Please, selling out is dying. And I want to live forever. So, working for peanuts, I made it my idealistic goal to succeed. I set forth to create my break-through achievement.

Well, it wasn’t so much fun. In solitude. And I failed. No one liked it and it will remain unfinished. My advice: don’t dedicate yourself at the expense of others.

I want to apologize. I want to get out of my head.

Today I went for a walk and kept on going until my legs couldn’t carry me anymore. That’s no good.

Next time, I’ll do whatever I can to make it better. To hell with these weird fantasies. I love you and I love the world. I WANT TO SMILE.

_______________________________________

I’ve fought monsters and worse
Inside my head
Demons of my own creation

You are the princess
Who tried to point me
In the right direction
unlocking the gate
You held the key

Old castle of my heart
Where I lurk in the mote
Trenching through muck
With the alligators
Banging on the stone wall

When you are high in the tower
There’s no one I could admire more
Just catching glimpses
Makes me want to struggle
To prove I’m worthy of
The King’s approval

First
I need to slay these dragons
For that, there are knights more valiant
Braver, stronger and more beautiful

But I shall try

my so called life

2007-07-27T00:01:00.001-07:00

working on it...

2007-07-18T15:00:00.000-07:00

comic from Syncopated, etc.

2007-06-30T11:32:00.000-07:00

back to the basement

2007-05-02T23:14:00.003-07:00

for Vice magazine Clot 45 issue

2007-05-02T23:14:00.002-07:00

That's My Baby

2007-04-28T23:37:00.000-07:00

from the book Dirtbags, Mallchicks and Motorbikes

You can read another story from the book here: The Party

http://www.davekcomics.com/

more sample comics pages

2007-04-17T23:18:00.000-07:00

Motorbikes

2007-04-08T20:50:00.001-07:00

from the book Dirtbags Mallchicks & Motorbikes
www.davekcomics.com

Monsters!

2007-04-05T13:30:00.005-07:00

color images inspired by the life of Kin Platt

2007-04-05T13:30:00.002-07:00

I am Dave Kiersh and this is my blog. Welcome to my world. (pictured here at the Bodega table at Small Press Expo, circa 2007. Photo taken by Craig Bostick).