Turns out no mechanical devices were necessary. All I had to do was drink a little too much before getting on the train, which was standing room only. Anyone who so much as twitched in their seat was eyed hungrily by the passengers on their feet in the aisle. I dared not get up to use the restroom. I was able to dose, but fitfully. It was like the old Native American trick of drinking a lot of water the night before in order to wake up early in the morning, except it was on a train and was the result of poor (rather than careful) planning.

I always come back from Comic-Con supercharged with creative energy, practically bursting at the seams with this drive, this impetus, to make things that are bright, crackling, new and chock-full of shiny ideas and unusual headspaces. Not wanting any partiular new concept so much as Newness itself.

It’s the result of spending five days in a building large enough to challenge Pluto for (non)planet status. This whole miniature world and culture that exists purely because people have gone out and made stuff up. Let there be imagination.

I can’t wait to dive into pages.