so yesterday, desperate for books, i bought this. i have mixed feelings about it now, though; do i really need an entire book full of essays and articles picking apart every panel of ware's work? they can't tell me how his work makes me feel. why even give a fuck about what these people think his work means when i know what it means to me? ah, and to your right, london, is the slippery slope which you are headed down. that sort of mentality leads to asking why i should read analyses of anything at all. and the answer to that, i suppose, is because i don't know everything. i don't know what in ware's lonely, fatherless midwestern childhood made him draw a restaurant a certain way or how going to the university of texas, austin influenced his lettering style, or whatever. i guess i just feel like ware would be really embarrassed by a book like this. it seems that someone who purposely tries to separate himself from the works he creates - and also someone who is sort of a whiny little bitch - wouldn't receive well the constant drawing of parallels from his life to his work. yeah, so, in conclusion, i will read this book but i will feel weird about it and this post was completely useless but i'm not apologizing because - never forget - i think that "not apologizing is a virtue" (remember that zinger, you guys?)
...did any of that make sense?
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