Got it. Sounds like your only option, then.

Willie is pretty fantastic. Get your rest beforehand, because you're going to need some stamina. I saw him about 10 years ago, and he played for 3 hours straight, no interludes, no breaks, no pointless bantering - just 50+ songs in a row without stopping. Guy is a machine.

I can't figure out where to post a comment about a Vertigo book that is more than one-year but less than ten-years old.

But I recently read Grant Morrison's Joe the Barbarian (2010). I wasn't much impressed with this one. It's about a diabetic kid's quest through a fever-dream fantasy world etc.

Ok, so the thing about Morrison. I really like some of his stuff, but a lot of it rubs me the wrong way, like one of those artists that is convinced of their own brilliance in everything they do, and that you should be glad they are condescending to let you experience it regardless of whether it makes sense.

For an "obscure Morrison" experience you might prefer, try Seaguy.  It's my kind of strange.

For a "kid" + "barbarian" experience you might prefer, try the (non-classic) Birthright (Image).  I don't know where it's going, but I want to.

I could really use some perspective tonight.

I've been trying really REALLY hard to make things work with my wife. On Saturday, we had tickets to go see a play (purchased for my wife for her birthday). I was sick as a dog, but I didn't mention it once, and we went out for dinner and drinks first, at which point she assaulted me with all her past grievances about our relationship over the past twelve years. This was after I was under the impression we'd already worked everything out (which is no easy feat, mind you, since my feelings seldom matter in these discussions -- only hers). I told her I was happy to discuss these things with her, but out in public, on a date, and with drinks in us, it wasn't a good idea. Naturally, she plowed through and continued to air her grievances AGAIN about things we'd already discussed numerous times and for which I'd apologized numerous times (again, the things that have hurt me for which she has NEVER apologized were not welcome), so I just listened and was silent for most of it. After the play, she got into it again and I, more sober, was able to respond, calmly, rationally, supportively, to the point that she realized she had no current grievance against me -- just very old history largely taken out of context. She then admitted both to me and to herself that the real problem was baggage she was carrying from childhood and her own self-hatred.

We spent the rest of the night driving around town, me listening to her talk through her troubles, occasionally interspersed with attacking me for past issues again, and I stayed cool, even when she grew furious with me, remained supportive, and ultimately got her to believe, for once, that I was on her side.

Sunday, I was more sick than ever, having pushed myself through a full day with the kids and our night out on Saturday, and it was a beautiful day, so we all had high expectations for fun, and I pushed through like a workhorse, making most of it happen and trying my best to ignore that what had once felt like a minor illness was getting more and more severe as I continued to push through. By Sunday night, I was a total wreck, so I called off from work today. I spent the day trying my best to rest, take care of myself, and also attend to some things around the house that either needed to get done or would likely surprise my wife and make her feel happy.

So she came home to a clean house with the dishes done (no big deal, I usually am the one to do them) dinner cooked and on the table (no big deal, I usually am the one to do that), window air conditioners installed in all bedrooms and the living room, and news that I'd taken care of a responsibility she'd had on her plate for weeks now that was stressing her out. Over dinner, she asked me how I was feeling. "Better," I told her, and she proceeded to blame me for it, telling me I get sick all the time, and it's all my fault, and why don't I do something about it.

Huh?

Tried to talk to her about why that had hurt my feelings after I put the girls to bed, and she just got defensive and combative, accusing me of making her have to defend herself. "No," I explained. "The entire point is that you did that to me." But she just kept getting meaner, ultimately saying "You see, this THIS is why our relationship isn't working" and then essentially undid any and all progress we'd made over the past few days AGAIN because I was hurt by her judging me.

I'm still not giving up. I'm not. She's pulled this kind of crap before, and I just have to keep telling myself it's not me; she's depressed. But her whole intention is to convince herself that it IS all me, and that's what makes this so damn upsetting.

Counseling on Wednesday. Too far away.

And her birthday's tomorrow. Like that's not going to be awkward as hell now.

Well, to be fair, that's the story as told from my perspective, but thank you. I'm not perfect, but I'm trying as hard as I know how.