MoCCA. I had a good day today.

MoCCA! What can I say about it? At times it felt more like a cross between a tattoo convention and a vintage eye-glasses enthusiast gathering (so of course I blended right in). New venue, at the Lexington Armory. It was hot, but that's rather inevitable considering how many bodies were jammed in there. You had to kind of wiggle in to get to the tables, which made it hard to see the merchandise from a casually strolling around vantage point, but no location can help with that. I failed to take any pictures, mostly because before I got there I was just thinking about my goals for the show (new Gauld, hopefully a copy of Bad N' Nice, and zines and minis over publishers whose merchandise I'll see in Jim Hanley's or my own store's shelves), and then later because my brain was overloaded and ceased to function properly after about twenty minutes.

My goal of attempting to spend money on the minis was a bit amusing once I was inside. I had set the aim in response to my purchases from my last attendance two years ago when I came home with some lovely books, but mostly D&Q, Fantagraphics, and Buena Ventura. All great publishers of wonderful material, but all things I would be seeing reviews of and hearing about and have regular access to over the course of the year. But once you stepped inside... it's just mini overload. There were hundreds of tables, and thousands of minis. One thing about small, intimate, hand-stapled (and sewn) books is that they're almost all equally eye-catching, all comparably priced (in the $3-20 range), and mostly touting a form of stylized primitivism that, in general, I can be quite keen on. Nobody calls it heta-uma here; it's probably considered more of a Gary Panter thing in this context.

But it made me realize that one of the reasons why it's easier to gravitate toward the publishers you're aware of and have purchased from before is that you can take their endorsement of something as encouragement. The minis are almost impossible to evaluate. There's so much to look at you always feel rushed to try to see more, and so feel that you don't have enough time with everything that looks interesting, but the alternative is to stand there for a few minutes and read it front to back, and put it down. I hate to say it, but I still feel like a bit of a snob when it comes to artwork. Which apparently the Danes are killing it.

They were probably my one psuedo-successful bit of clevertry over the day, when I asked if any of their zines were about Mads Mikkelsen. "I don't think he does comics," he said, smirking. "It's the only Danish joke I know," I said after about a minute of silence. But it got a smile, so it must have been half-decent.

Bob Fingerman was there, who I've bumped into at Kim's in the past and talked to before, and he was typically friendly and, like all the talent, busy making great sketches and polite banter for a stream of admirers. Actually, I was rather embarrassed most of the day, as every time I opened my mouth to say anything to anyone I was completely awkward and absentminded and just completely socially inept, stuttering while handing over my "postcard." So thanks, Bob, Tom, Katie, and Matei, for not making me feel as simple as I know I sounded. I'm not usually so slow. Maybe it was the heat, or my brain just overloaded on minis, which sounds weird but I think that's actually what happened. Sorry.

Actually, I think I met the coolest famous person today that I'll ever meet. You can't possibly guess who this is. I had to look him up.

Anthony Zerbe. Go ahead. I'll wait.

He bought the new Updike. He was quiet and polite. I sheepishly admitted I'd never read a word of Updike. He seemed affronted, holding his chin very high. He looks directly at you the entire conversation. Have you read Delillo? No, I said, turning red. Cormac? Yes! (Thank God!) Suttree. It was hilarious, which I'm told is rare for him. [Brief McCarthy discussion, in which he recommended the Border Trilogy.] He asked about one more I hadn't heard of (I wrote it down). I have a laundry list of things I should have gotten to, I said. He sighed. You're lucky. You still get to read them for the first time. I know exactly what you mean, I said. We said goodnight, and he left.