Why I Started Reading Indy Comics

In January 1984, I was 15 years old, we didn't have the Internet, my friends and I were counting the days to the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue, our HBO watching was monitored, the woods where my older brother's generation had hidden an Alexandrian library's worth of dirty magazines was becoming condos, I had missed hearing at least one entire lecture in every one of my classes to memorize each hair on the back of the necks of women who today are respectable pillars of the community and much-loved mothers to teenagers all over the American Midwest, and every schoolday more likely than not I wore a sweatshirt tied by its sleeves around my waist not for fashion's sake.

And these were my choices at Bright's Book Exchange:








Sorry, Batman. Sorry, Spider-Man. Sorry, Mainstream Comic Books. You never had a chance.
 
posted 7:30 am PST | Permalink
 

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