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Dean Haspiel

History

9th March 2012

7:33pm: Boiling Point
I've broken out with a few bad boils ravaging my body. Mostly, cheek and shoulder. They hurt like Hell. Deep pits of volcanic pus. Some of the pus is hard knit like thick white braids of bean curd. I have a staph infection [which can kill you] due to stress. Or, was it from the public pool water at the YMCA? I had to pay cold hard cash for the "neighborhood" doctor to make sure I wasn't headed to death row and he prescribed me antibiotic pills, medicated salve, and hot compresses.

Penicillin makes me feel sick and my head is a lolling tank of aquarium gravel.

Seems my freelance life and comix career [publishing is taking a worse dive than ever before and page rates are criminal] coupled with all the time/effort/energy I put into Trip City has finally, physically [and mentally?] compromised me. Sitting and stressing all day at near age 45 while trying to make ends meet [still? really? get it together, Dean!] is not doing me any favors. I need stability, less work, more money, weekends for respite and recreation, and indulge a vacation or three. Hopscotching between piece meal gigs that pay Styrofoam peanuts [what, no nutrition?] and developing a deluge of pitches while producing/curating free weekly content is starting to murder me slowly.

Rally. Turn that pulp into a blockbuster. Make money while you sleep.
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