the first adult comic book I very got into was “galactic breakdown”. Jake showed it to me, and it gave birth to the “party pack.” the hero of the story ‘s superpower is to ingest a handful of different drugs, like ketamine, steroids, and horny goat weed, and he’d transform into an alien ass-kicking galactic conqueror. it was an accurate reflection of myself, thinking I was more interesting and funny in a social setting on adderall, benzos, vicodin, or some combination thereof. If I was Popeye, drugs, pills mostly, were my spinach. I’m actually way more obnoxious. I tend to ignore others’ signals and bulldoze them with my beliefs and feelings. Ill remember certain situation and cringing at my behavior. I wish I could tell some people, “that’s not really me! thats just a pill cocktail impersonating me.” Although its narcissistic, I wonder what peoples impressions of me are now. I worry that I’ll become a cautionary tale. But then I remember a line from my favorite graphic novel series, Saga: “Don’t worry about what other people think of you, because no one thinks of you.” as in, no one thinks of you with as much as scrutiny as you fear. An infant in the first issues, the narrator is the mixed offspring of two alien races perpetually at war with each other, and recounts how his parents met–he was a pow, she his captor, and, inspired by a novel that’s a thinly veiled metaphor for a peaceful solution between their races, they fall for each other and are forced to escape as their hunted by both sides and their allies. although the drawing is slick and expressive, the writing more closely approaches artful with a bunch of memorable lines (“the opposite of war is fucking”). and then there’s peter bagge’s Hate, collected as “Buddy does Seattle, Buddy Does New Jersey, etc.” about 20 something living in Seattle during the grunge era. autobiographical, the stories and drawings are done by the same guy and combine to make a hysterical comic. finally Monstress is a feminist fantasy, sci first story with a fleshed out, vibrant universe, fueled by violent, action-packed plots. Most superhero stories arent worth reading, unless written by Frank Miller or Alan Moore, which is probably why I’ve overlooked the medium for so long. All our heroes, like all our gods, always disappoint me in the end.