THE MARK OF CANE.

It's official. I'm now a real true curmudgeon.

I just bought my first cane.

I adjusted to the fact that my back is not going to get better, as it's the nature of things ,a bit better than Karen did. She saw it as sad, which is a valid point of view, as the inevitable years of abuse and neglect pile up on me. But, to tell the truth, to me it seemed perfectly natural. It's just what it is. Don't get me wrong, I don't need it all the time, just comes in handy for walking distances and what not. And, it would be nice to have never needed one to begin with, but I still now own a cane. It's sleek, black and heavy, and in the right circumstances, it could look a bit threatening. Especially attached to me.

I have to wonder if they'll let me on an airplane with it?

Now I need one a bit dressier.

On another note, one that brings with it a certain bittersweet sense of happiness, Karen's younger sister Lori and her two sons left a few days ago after a lovely week here from Italy. It was nothing but shear delight to finally met the voice from the phone at last. Lori Max and Nicalo, ( shame on me for not being sure just how he spells that, one "L" or two? two "CC's?) are just great people to know, intelligent, artistic and down to earth, and better house guests one could not ask for. Our home still feels the absence as Do Karen I both. I have to admit, that with a bum back, work pressures and all, I thoroughly enjoyed myself. I only with I had a photo or two to share.

Right then: the work.

The book proceeds closer each day towards it's date with the printer when it stops becoming an albatross and blooms into a large, somewhat perverse swan.

It's strange to say this after all this time, but having to examine and touch up each and every page has become a trip down a long dark alley filled with sharp and subtle devices for making the artist flinch at the thing he's made. This will be a lot tougher the read than even I first thought. But the bugger has turned eighteen and surly and it's time it moved out and got a job.

Again, it's the nature of the thing.

I look forward to the time the missus and I can have a little piece and quiet around here.

And finally, I BEG you, to please stop and see the lovely Tom Negovan and the fetching Stuart and the Century Guild booth at the the San Diego show coming up. I have some personal work there for sale and the ART they have to show, sell and explain will leave you refreshed and put real lead in your respective pencils. Promise. But dear friends, before that I strongly urge you all the make a pilgrimage the Chicago the participate in the truly massive Dave McKean-a-thon the Guild is putting on this weekend.........thrills! art! Film! Dave McKean! Fun Fun Fun!!!

I mean, what else are gonna do? Order out and sit on the sofa watching pay per view and fart?

Get thee some Culture damn it.........

On that note, have a nice day.

M.Z.

from the dead zone..........

I'm working nearly around the clock to get this bestial book ready for publication. I'm dead tired and half insane from revisiting the whole thing all over again. It's almost a strange emotional "muscle memory" going over each page once more. I seem to be in this weird time/ space loop of when and now that makes for a nerve wracking day indeed. And I've got to do all again once the thing is ship-shape art-wise for the finished script paste-up.

And I've already started writing and thumb nailing the sophomore effort.

Remind me again why I do this, please.

Though I suppose that when the book of book arrives from the press it will feel really good. Kind of like not hitting ones head against a brick wall......blessed relief.

I'm still hoping against hope for a Christmas release. That would be lovely, no? You could give the gift of angst and terror to all your friends.

And before I go collapse, I'd like to extend a very heartfelt thank you to those of you who bothered to reply to my last post...it means more than I can say to have some response to the news.

I live in a strangely isolated place that never seems to pay back my efforts, and your comments really do lighten the load.

When all is said and done, I truly hope you enjoy "Fracture", because no matter how much I bitch and moan sometimes, I love what I do more every day.

Thank you.

M.Z.

BOOK.

Right then.

It's been a while hasn't it? Have we been slacking off? Have we just been rude and not bothered with you all out there in the kingdom of the Electric Angel?

Nope.

You see dear friends and fellow believers , you fabulous aesthetes and Chimerical Mauve's and Mauvettes......

The Fracture of the Universal Boy will be real, hopefully before Christmas. The announcement will be forth coming in San Diego. Along with private work for sale and a select number of fine art prints. Proceed with all due haste and wallets to The Century Guild booth.

I won't say anything more until after the show.

Right now I'm in a whirlwind of just amazing shit........and there is no rest for wee Zed for a while.

But, it's so very good.

Be kind......

M.Z.

GLORIOUS RUBBLE

...The last few weeks went by in a trainwreck, firefight, slowmo, high anxiety, draw as if my life depended on it kind off way. My migration route was disrupted by what, I have no idea.

That's the way it goes every now and again. Nobody to bitch to out here but me, so I squirm like a worm on a hook inches from the mouth of a big fish. And what do I do? Give him a choice finger.

If inspiration won't get you there, often times naked bravado is worth a shot.

Right then, listening to early Ahex Twin, old Bill Nelson, "chance encounters in the garden of lights", some Saafi Bros., John Cale, Krush Kale, and the new Punditz disc.

Enjoying Lucien Levy-Dhurmer's pastels, Gail Poroki's "Opened Apples" stuff ,and the strange melancholy semi-landscapes of John Atkinson Grimshaw's paintings. Not a bunch of film that jumps out at me right this moment.

I should be getting a cover rough to "Fracture" soon.....can't wait.

Guests from Italy at the end of the month.

Up on the drawing board,..." Heliosphan", "Nemesis" and "The Persian Envoy".

Poppies blooming in a few days.

Life simply is...........

M.Z.

THE ALCHEMICAL ROMANCE OF ZED.

A flute made of reed.

NEFES or breath that animates.

NAR the fire that transforms the breath.

SU breath and fire becomes water the balm and solvent

Gold to lead to Gold.

For the last two years, a pair of Baltimore Orioles has nested over my drive way. The Spring season has advanced far enough for then to return.

The feeder I've placed near to the nesting sight was visited this morning once again by the male bird, who was being seriously harassed by a much larger and aggressive bird.

The most remarkable thing happened. The male Oriole never ruffled a feather, rather he took a submissive posture and began to sing. He sang as if the bells of angels lived in his throat.

They have naturally a amazing song but this was so loud, so clear and unrelenting that the bigger bird actually backed away and flew off.

The beautiful bugger sang him down.

Air to fire to water. Intent, transformation, peace.

Alchemy.

I'm just a window washer. It's my job to keep the dust and grime off the glass so others that look can see what they see.

I sing the dirt off your eyes.

With love,

M.Z.

NO NET NO POLE NO WIRE

Bugger. I'm really bad at this blog thing. I get so distracted by work that I honestly forget I don't say anything for weeks.
I suppose if you care to read this from time to time, you'll just have to put up with my being rude and not keeping up my side of the bargain. But I do feel bad-ish about it.
Right then.

The window for commissions is absolutely, and completely closed for possibly a very long time.
The things I have to do are simply to important and to compelling to take time out for whatever else the world wants. Again I feel a bit bad about it, but facts are facts.

I'm on a streak of work that daily leaves me exhausted and emotionally fragile. I'm so deep that I have no idea if anything actually means anything, I'm just riding a tsunami of images that leave me nothing but eyes and hands. My head is iridescent mother of pearl gibberish.

Oh, just a distant and feeble wave to Gail Potoki who is brilliant and a half. Go see the "opened Apples" show this summer anywhere it comes.
Brutal and fey magic.

For now, 'till later,

M.Z.

HAIL ATLANTIS!

...I just wanted to say that.

Geez where to start.

Ok.....Steve Bissette has been blogging history lately and it's been truly fabulous. I get to revisit old traumas and disappointments with the soothing balm of decades of time under the bridge. There is no better way to do it really. The 'ol Zulli curse is woik'in overtime though as the stuff Steve and I found terribly exciting and full of potential garners little if any notice. Even really rare "Alan" material has made nary a peep, squeak or hiss. I get this urge to change my name to "Stephen King" now and again.

I'm working in a mad fever on a new group of dry media pictures that for some reason I'm calling "Animalia". The only thing is there are precious few animals to be seen. Such is the mind of an old Sufi-Gnostic symbolist, romantic. Effin sucks some days.

We endured over a week of massive pre-spring floods, ( no harm as usual except a grands worth of repair to the gardens and driveway.) followed by a foot of snow in a complete white-out.

Now it's getting on to "mud season."

I busted my work glasses by mistake and have resorted to over the counter magnifiers that have left me with a constant headache.

You ever get that solution to dilate your eyes when you go to get glasses? Damn stuff leaves me seeing auras and bouncing off of walls for hours. A small price one guess to stop the pounding in my head and remove the ground glass from behind ones eyes.

Finally getting around to reading some Gene Wolfe.

Did a new cover for "Boy". Love it man.

Umm, well, that's about it, except for the total lack of response to my opening commissions again. Ah, well, some days the monkey on my back quotes Shakespeare.

be peaceful y'all.

M.Z.