Lovelife Book Three: nobody loves you.

Book Three is embarrassing to me.
I should explain.

I have never been a hip person. I don't understand how to do so.
I like what I like, and will most likely like the same things ten
and twenty years from now that I do today. I don't go out of my way
to keep up with new things. If some new song or 'look' debuts and I
take an interest in it, it's most likely that this is because it reminds me
of better times and styles I'm already very well acquainted with.

For a while I inhabited what had become a very trendy
part of Chicago. If you walked down a certain street during a
certain time of day, it was a bit like living in a Susie Vlçek music video.
The girls were all cute and in indie bands.
They wore unbuttoned square dance shirts
or tight old lady dresses.
They all had bangs and hornrimmed glasses.
They made sure you noticed them as they walked past.
The boys wore deliberately torn undershits and
rolled their smokes up in their sleeves and were never cleanshaven, ever.
And they made sure you noticed them as you walked past!
Somehow it was always easier to forgive the girls!!

Clearly I'm shabbily masking some kind of deep-rooted resentment in the
strip below. I wanna be cool, too; who doesn't?
In recent years, I've never been less cool.
I've even stooped to pawning my more catty lines to my other characters
to disguise the fact, even though they're things I myself would sooner say.

Besides, who can compete with champion pouter and social cynic
DAVID GEMMILL?
I've never met him,
but he's got this kind of thing down to a refined science.
If he's not featured in a future issue of
Animation Blast, I'll eat my afro pick.

Anyway, okay, enough.