New York

A mostly unknown fact about me: At the high school I graduated from, courses were largely set up in the way that college courses are. You had to have so many English, Math, and Science credits, but within that framework you could pick and choose subjects that interested you. For instance, I took Poetry as an English course. It was basic, as one might expect high school courses to be, but it instilled in me an appreciation for the craft that continues to this day, even if I rarely write the stuff. It is also the first genesis of my critical work; we had to write essays about cowboy poetry. It's a very interesting thing, these contemplative pieces cowboys write about their work, the unique solitude of it, but I did not think so at sixteen, and warned my teacher that I intended to eviscerate the topic in my essay. Some teachers, bad ones, might forbid such a thing, Mrs. Stegemeyer, angel that she is, valued encouraging my authenticity as a writer even then.

Another topic that came up during that class was Nuyorican poetry. It was different than some of the more classic poetry we covered, was not the kind of thing you'd find in an Oxford book of verse. Instead it focused more on an expression of Puerto Rican cultural identity, exploring the themes of living in New York with that identity at the time. That's another thing I'm grateful to Mrs. Stegemeyer for; teaching Puerto Rican art to a class of white kids in rural Washington, because it was important to do, and because it personally altered the trajectory of my life.

There is a book of Nuyorican Poetry called Aloud: Voices From The Nuyorican Poets Cafe. We talked about a couple of poems in class, and later I bought the collection for my own library. It was my first brush with the idea of New York as a modern artistic entity, which is why it's funny to me now that I'm only thinking of it after getting home, and not while there in the city. Anyway, if you're interested in poetry, I recommend checking it out.

This time, we went for love of comic books. The plane landed in New York on late Tuesday night, because flying five-to-six hours Eastward means crossing time zones at the same time and wastes most of a day. I'd been to the city once before that, about five years prior, just a day trip to visit the art museum amid a week-long stay in Jersey that would turn out to upend my entire life. Took most of those five years to find an even keel again.

I flew with Keezy Young, most recently of Hello Sunshine fame. We were staying with friends, but different ones, so we made our way to those apartments and got to bed as quickly as two people can when they've just been sitting all day and not using any energy. At the place I was staying, I met my hosts' cat, a perfect angel appropriately named Saint.

The next morning, we headed into Javits to do some pre-convention table setup. I'd only announced that I was going to be in attendance two days prior, so plenty of folks had no idea, and I got the pleasure of surprising a few by simply being present when they weren't expecting it.

After we were done with table setup, the rest of Wednesday was ours. We took the train out to Williamsburg to see a bookstore that had been recommended to us called the Twisted Spine. That store was part of what is unofficially known as "Analog Alley," a row of shops that focus on physical thigs, be they books, VHS tapes, DVDs, or board games. It was a cool little section of the city, away from the major tourist traps of downtown and full of its own charm. Around the corner was a Swedish candy shop--I bought some sour gummy pineapples (they were delicious).

After that, we visited a friend of Keezy's. We ate pizza and a tiny, elderly dog sat in my lap. His name was Luca, or possibly Luka, and he couldn't jump up onto the couch by himself. I had to lift him up to the cushion, and once I did he promptly parked himself in my lap for the duration.

It was a good day, all in all, the kind that every vacation should have. It was largely unstructured, it gave me a chance to familiarize myself with the subway system at a basic level as well as explore without a looming deadline or schedule to worry about. The shadow of NYCC the following day was present, but distant. As I am too often wont to do, I stayed up too late that night, despite knowing I had to be up early.

Thursday, I went to the subway station a little early, because I like to build in a little extra time when I'm figuring out a schedule. I sat on a bench there, with no one else around, and stared at the opposite wall of the tunnel. There's a good chance you've seen New York subways even if you've never been there. It's all old white tile work, with the station location repeating for the length of it.

In some places it's well-kept; here there were sections of tile missing, with the exposed wall behind it, blackened with the dirt and grime of decades. Each section ran all the way up to the ceiling, which I found interesting. It reminded me of a glitch, or an encroachment of some sort. I sat in the silence and imagined a darkness seeping in through the grout and cracks in the tile, spilling downward to slowly fill the station with sinister intent.

It's common knowledge that 'sinister' just means 'left'. I called this newsletter 'Left-Handed Wisdom' because I'm left-handed, and because it's an old derogatory phrase that refers to faulty information, and I find that funny. This concept of left-handed things being inferior or wrong or evil is archaic, discredited, but we continue to grapple with its legacy today, in the way we talk about politics; it's why we refer to the political spectrum as the left and the right in the first place. It seems obvious to say that, but sometimes obvious things need saying. I wonder how effective progressive messaging can be if we continue to labor within that kind of framework. It sort of feels like letting our opponents dictate the very terms by which we engage them.

I don't really have a solution to that; I just worry about it.

The convention itself was good, I think. Keezy's books sold well, and I spent most of my idle time hanging out at their table with them, with a few trips around Artist Alley to say hello to friends and colleagues. I didn't go to any panels, because I don't run a comics journalism site anymore, and no one else is paying me to. Instead, I drew a lady with muscular arms in a casual stretching pose. I didn't use any references, and there are parts of it that I already see and think I could do better. Still, for some freehanded practice off the top of my head, it's not bad.

I did also become very inspired to resume some projects that had stalled out, and subsequently spent the rest of the trip sneaking in moments of comics scripting. It is the Passion Project, the one everyone has that's personal and over involved, and that may never see the light of day. To be working on it again feels like a gift. After the day ended, we got dinner with some friends at a tavern near the Javits Center, then made our way back to Brooklyn. I continued writing until two in the morning, then cursed my foolishness, as once again I had stayed up too late, and I had to be up in five hours.

Friday, I felt the consequences of my actions, but it was still a very good day. Keezy sold out of her copies of Hello Sunshine and had only a very few left of their other comics. We met more friends and colleagues that we hadn't seen on Thursday or that we'd never met before in person at all. I've known Zoe Tunnell for about five years for instance, and that was the first time we stood side by side. At the end of the day, Greg Pak came by the table and with the crowds dwindling, we spent a decent half hour discussing politics, art, culture. I thanked him for reaching out while I was in crisis earlier this year; he's known for being a great writer, but more importantly he's a very good and decent man.

Dinner after the show, then back to the apartment. At my host's prompting, I read the Captain America Bicentennial Battles comic from 1976. It features Captain America going on a sort of vision quest through American history in order to pull a sort of moral lesson out of it. The story ends with Cap speaking to some kids about the possibility of the future. There are some tone deaf choices made in it, but by and large I enjoyed the story. Not surprising, really; I do love a good Kirby. After that, though, I slept, and proper this time.

Saturday I forgot my glasses. I can function without them, I just have to get closer to things. I met up with friends and walked around, visited a few folks at their tables. After the floor closed, we went and got ramen, then hung out with some friends at a bar entirely too late (you may begin to sense a theme regarding my sleep schedule during conventions).

Sunday, I mostly hung around at Keezy's table, so that they could actually have a chance to wander the show themselves. We were very tired on account of our late night, and it was a slow day, but thankfully closing time was at 5pm, instead of the 8pm it had been every other day of the convention. We made our way to Bed-Stuy, got Thai food, and then found a quiet bar to hang out in for a little while before I felt sleep calling me. I made my way back to my host's apartment in Park Slope and slept.

Monday was my final full day in New York. NYCC was over, I had no pressing business, so I took my sweet time waking up (8:30 am instead of 7). I went and got coffee, then wrote for a few hours before meeting Keezy for a kind of quiet cowork hang. That was nearly immediately sidetracked by an email from Alaska Airlines informing us our flight home the following morning had been cancelled, and we'd been shuffled onto two different flights home. The point of me going was to travel together, so we took a couple hours to solve that, and by that point it was dinner time. My final dinner in New York was Indian, because I make a point of eating Indian food at least once during every convention I attend (I was introduced to it at a con, and I like the little ritual of it). After that we visited a lesbian bar named Singers. It was playing Charmed on a little CRT television near where we were sitting. We talked about media we liked (mostly detective shows), and the fun of watching adaptations for the choices they make, good and bad.

I think I like New York.

Death to Pachuco #1

Image Comics | October 8, 2025

Henry Barajas (Writing, Co-Design, Lettering), Rachel Merrill (Art, Art Direction), Lee Loughridge (Color Art), Will Dennis (Editing)

A five-issue miniseries from Image, Death to Pachuco is a murder mystery set in 1943 Los Angeles. The story follows a private detective named Ricardo Téllez as he investigates both the murder and the subsequent framing of an innocent girl for it, all against the background of the Zoot Suit Riots.

As a writer, Henry Barajas is thoughtful, careful, layering the story with cultural context as well as characters whose motivations and sympathies are clear, their personalities distinct and memorable. I enjoyed the way he used a mix of Spanish and English dialogue; very often books starring bilingual characters will nod to this with only a single word or two. Barajas instead has his characters speaking full Spanish sentences, then switching to English seamlessly. It better reflects the reality of bilingual speakers, and also works as a great anchor to draw the reader more fully into the story's world.

Rachel Merrill's art is also a lot of fun. She imbues her character designs with distinctiveness, and relies on a sketchy, angular style that has always felt particularly appropriate for comic books. She's also not afraid to lean into rendered, detailed backgrounds, which is important both for avoiding an over-reliance on talking heads scenes and also for making the world of 1943 Los Angeles feel realized, lived in.

Barajas and Merrill have worked together elsewhere, on the Gil Thorp comic strip, and their comfort with each other as storytellers is evident both in the way they've shared duties during the production of this book and in the way both the writing and visual elements of the book compliment each other. It's only one issue in so far, but a first issue can make or break a series, and I really enjoyed what the team laid down here– not the least because I'm a sucker for a sweltering SoCal detective noir. I'm excited to see where it goes!

Probably this newsletter will be some combination of the above; blogs and reports on places I've been or things I've done, reviews of things I want to talk about. I think I might do some interviews too.