Ramblings Of A Man Named Joseph Carro

Posts tagged “Conversation

The Rundown

Posted on December 11, 2018

When I was fifteen years old, the world was my enemy. And why shouldn’t it have been? It was 1996. Up until that point, the world had done its best to drag me, sometimes screaming, through metaphorical gutters of the worst kinds of waste. At that young age I had already been half-starved, covered in lice and fleas, abused in the worst kinds of ways. I was a victim, but also a survivor. The constant battling only made me harder, scooped out the soft spots in large chunks so what I was left with was a veritable chitinous exoskeleton, impervious to the outside world. As a result, when I moved to the middle-class neighborhood in New Hampshire, filled with anxious folks living in high-end…

Mike Wieringo

Posted on December 8, 2018

Almost a full decade ago, I had the pleasure of meeting one of my favorite comic book writers – Todd Dezago. He made an appearance at the first ever Coast City Comicon here in Portland, Maine. Due to scheduling conflicts, I couldn’t attend the con for more than a day and thus I didn’t meet him that year – but the following year I finally made it when he came back. I caught him at one point when he was sitting by himself at his booth. I never imagined I would get any one-on-one time with him, but it was important that I talk to him because if I was a fan of Todd Dezago, I was doubly a fan of the amazing Mike…

The Peacoat

Posted on November 7, 2018

I was writing at home, or trying to, when the desire to get up out of my chair finally struck me. I needed out, I needed to get out into the fall weather and interact with humans and stop looking at the page. I grabbed my pea coat, slipped it on, and slipped out the door. My girlfriend at the time wasn’t home yet. The night was cold, and my feet slid over wet leaves that covered the grimy Portland sidewalk. Several times, I had to check my pace or risk falling to the tar. I took in the night air, letting it fill my lungs and letting my eyes adjust to the darkness. Upon entering the store, I wandered around aimlessly. I wasn’t…

The Lobsterman

Posted on August 17, 2018

The rain was falling hard, and so I ducked into a dimly-lit bar. It’s the same bar where I stare into the painted face of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, a face painted by the same man who is supposed to be my biological father. Longfellow’s white bearded visage hangs to my right on the far wall, while an etching of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s tombstone looms directly over me. My bartender’s name is Jasper and he is one of my customers at work, who I don’t immediately recognize. He’s tall, lanky, with short dark hair and a well-manicured beard. He sees me trying to peer over the counter at the beers on tap. It’s an “Oktoberfest” buffet of choices. I ask Jasper to recommend one to…