I finished penciling page eleven of LESSONS AT BEAGLE LAKE today. It feels good to be doing a straightforward, self-contained story. I feel like a real boy. When I'm done with a little of page 12, I'll go straight to that dusty Midwestern restaurant and demand that dishwashing job. O blessed life, charm me as I make the cop finally stop reciting his poetry and begin to be tormented by the lilac swallows and robin red breasts.

Above: Chancellor Dog running through cool waters.