Last week I made an appearance at the South Street Seaport Museum, as part of the New York Review of Science Fiction reading series. In the audience was new writer Jermaine Hall (he's midway through his first novel), who is something of a caricaturist, and was kind enough to give me the above sketch, which he made while I was reading.
"Your hair isn't that spiky," Marianne said when she saw the drawing, and promptly carried it off to hang in her office. So I guess that means that everything else is pretty much spot-on.
But looking like me is a private tragedy. Here's what I wanted to draw your attention to: Notice the slovenly slouch, the smudged glasses, the self-absorbed scowl. I could be the long-lost brother of Dave Davenport, the much-put-upon minion of evil scientist Helen Narbon in Shaenon K. Garrity's webcomic Narbonic.
Not close enough for you? Then how about this? Dave and I used to both be three-pack-a-day smokers. I quit by going to Ireland without my cigs when Marianne and I decided it was time to make a baby. Dave quit by going back into his own past, as part of an involuntary time travel experiment, and not acquiring the habit as a teenager.
Coincidence or conspiracy? You tell me.