The Vinyl Underground 08.18.01
One issue of The Vinyl Underground is shipped off to the cleaners, and a new box of pencils arrive on my doorstep the next morning.The punishing cycle of the comic book inker.
Pencils by the Incomparable Simon Gane.
Inks by the incomprehensible Me.
During the daytime, I draw Local, teach, or draw the numerous other deadline-crushing activities. But in the middle of the night, I ink The Vinyl Underground-- in the dank shroud of darkness, When nothing can be heard but the hollow footsteps of all the motherless scoundrels of society tapping on the cold street outside my window, as I drink lukewarm tea and listen to David Bowie. Or something like that.