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All images copyright by Michael D. Smith
Lester Quartz’s rowboat strands him at the end of his spherical soul, at radius infinity. Opening the hatch at the plastic wall marking the end of himself, he walks into the city of another person’s brain, but soon finds himself in thrall to urban terrorists trying to destroy that mind. Yet when the revolution inexplicably converts the mind to Cosmic Unity, Lester is invited to speak with the Board of Directors, which in turns persuades him to assume direct control of the human being in question.
Taking over the computers, joystick, and throttle of another entity, Lester now becomes Akard Drearstone, a burned out executive trying to figure out how to celebrate his fortieth birthday. Still reeling from his unexpected encounter with Cosmic Unity, Akard distractedly murders a pesky subordinate, then is forced to flee the country on the most expensive BMW motorcycle he can buy. Pulled over for speeding, Akard is distraught as the state trooper proceeds to execute his motorcycle by pistol fire. But when the cycle explodes, killing the trooper, Akard decides he must pilot the newly-abandoned police car south. He winds up in Freeport, Texas, buying a dangerous ultralight airplane which he intends to fly to Mexico.
As his airplane develops engine trouble, a beautiful woman flying her own ultralight swoops in, sheds her bikini, leaps to Akard’s plane, and makes love to him. But knowing she’s badly needed back in Dimension Z, she then thrusts her torso into Akard’s propeller. Horrified, Akard clings to the plane’s fuselage as it spins out of control, then realizes: “Wait a second! I don’t need all this hassle!” and simply finds himself on his feet, safe on the ground.
He hitches a ride to Miami, where he voices his despairing question to every passerby: “Hey, man, wanna start a rock and roll band?” Akard’s band soon becomes so famous that the CIA decides he must be assassinated. Shot to pieces at his definitive eight-hour concert, Akard struggles to hold his body together. His lady from Dimension Z visits him in the hospital and explains how human beings are constantly coming to the end of their infinite soul radius, then entering new minds to explore. She makes love to him again, but explains that he’s suffered a pre-frontal lobotomy in reverse, meaning that he’s lost everything except his pre-frontal lobes. She tells him he cannot rely on her to constantly recharge his psychic battery, and steps out of the hospital window into the path of an oncoming car in order to return to Dimension Z.
The damaged, disillusioned Akard takes a bus to Dallas, buys more than enough six packs of Drunken Farmer beer, gets sloshed in an alley while reading Aldous Huxley, and is mocked and kicked by bored Dallasites during lunch hour. Then he sees a hatch in the wall labeled: “You have come to the end of your soul-shell, at radius infinity! You will now enter into the inside of a stranger’s brain! To operate handle, operate handle!”
Akard vows to resist that hatch, to die here forever, but a motorcycle gang arrives to forcefully suggest otherwise ...
I began the drawings in a black Canson journal as I ended my college days at Rice in May 1974, gluing in lined writing paper from the initial session (see RARRRRRR!), drawing a few panels at the beach at Freeport, and finally completing the comic by December 1974, most of it done at my desk at Praetorian Mutual Life Insurance Company of Dallas, Texas. Most of the drawings are in ballpoint, black, blue, or red. I read the first completed third as a picture book to an enthusiastic drunken audience. I added color through summer 1976, only in a few cases correcting drawing errors. Here I learned that black ballpoint does not mix well with crayon, and that the resulting drawings are prone to severe bleedthrough. The comic is a preservationist’s nightmare, but has held up well so far in its cool dark filing cabinet home.
The rather offhand and prosaic title of the comic suggests that the images were more important to me than the words. At the time the designation “graphic novel” was unknown to me.
Here are some sample pages. All are 8 3/8” x 10 3/4”, ballpoint or Higgins ink, colored with crayon, watercolor, and tempera paint. Both sides are used, for a total of 280 pages in a black Canson journal.
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11/24/11