I am attempting to put the finishing touches on the Z600 Part 2, I had no idea that completely re-writing this thing from the ground up would be so mentally draining. I have devoted at least one other art journal to complaining about how long this thing is taking to write so apologies on adding a second entry—I am in the final third of Part 2 and oh yes…there will be a Part 3, possibly even a Part 4…
It’s just—have you ever invested so much mental and emotional energy into a project that has made you a little crazy in the process? I walk to and from work composing paragraphs and outlines in my head for a series of essays that has essentially become a vanity project for me.
Sure, the characters are all real, and there is tangible damage being done by this list, but it’s such a fringe story now that I know it makes me some sort of oddball—that weirdo you try talking to at the end of the bar who goes on a tangent about their spoon collection or their creepy obsession with the British Royal Family.
I once tried talking about what I was doing a few months ago to a coworker, (we were both walking home so it was after working hours) I have a hard enough time talking to them for other reasons, but the confused sideways glance was enough, I got the message. Working at an Ivy League school is something I once thought I could handle but now I realize I was not socially prepared for in the slightest.
Maybe that’s really the crux of whats prompting me to write tonight, because I know I do not fit in there, and it messes with my head. It’s not my boss or the lab, it’s class, it’s politics, it’s feeling so god damn alone and being viscerally aware that no one is interested in anything I say.
I strategically take lunch in weird places like I’m back in fucking high school. Some days (most days) I come home and just stare at my computer screen for hours in an after-work daze.
When I do walk home I usually go through Gray’s Ferry and Point Breeze because after spending hours with the elite of America, I need a break. I need to hear normal people screaming at their kids and cursing at their neighbors. I need to see some good old urban decay, especially after navigating preppy jocks on scooters (I HATE those god damn scooters).
I had a social life at my last job—I had people I could crack jokes with during the day, friends to eat lunch with, people I could talk to about interesting things…most of them became really ardent Hamas supporters after October 7th, but that’s another story.
For 8 hours a day I have to compose myself a certain way, which makes sense, you have to become a more edited professional version of yourself with any job; but it’s real hard for me to feel like I can’t really be any tolerable version of myself at all while I’m working. So I cope, I tone police, I blast gangster rap music through my headphones, and I get off work and call my friend Benny.
I’ve drawn Benny a few times over our decade and a half long friendship—but that one (the one at the top) is my favorite. The one (below) is my most recent photo of him.
Benny is half Onondogan (Iroquois Nation) and half Palestinian. Our conversations span everything from shouting on the phone (respectfully) about the Israel-Palestinian conflict to talking about the history of native trade routes in North America.
Benny has the most hardcore inner-city Buffalo accent I have ever heard. He is a diehard West Side baby, and when we are together we end up in interesting places like abandoned parts of railroad tracks collecting iron spikes (yes-I have a few), or photographing desolate areas of the Buffalo waterfront.
Here are a few photos I have taken while on walks in Buffalo with Benny—many I am using or have used as image references for comic and architecture illustrations:
Benny bakes bread for a living. He has taught himself how to crochet, knit, embroider, bead, sculpt leather into bags and purses, and how to make clothes from patterns he draws himself. He is a creative savant. He’s also dirt fucking poor, and went to one of the worst public schools in the entire city of Buffalo.
I think about that a lot when I’m on campus surrounded by people with all the connections in the world—because I know one of the most talented, interesting, and intelligent men on earth; but he’s so far away from an Ivy League school it may as well be another planet.
I’m glad he lives in his own dimension, because selfishly—I need him to. Benny reminds me that the world outside of elitist university walls still exists, and I still have a connection to it.
“When I visit you in Philly I wanna go to the hood.”
Sure Benny, I walk through it everyday as a palate cleanser. It’s a way of feeling like myself again—which is also why I value talking to you so much. Thanks for being my friend.
I’ll leave you with a few more photos of our adventures in Buffalo before signing off for the night—I look forward to seeing him during Thanksgiving even if the holiday is not something he observes (for obvious reasons).
