There seems to be a certain psychological commonality among certain cartoonists - specifically an inclination towards detachment from tangible reality, and withdrawal into the "fictitious" reality that they endeavor to create within their works as cartoonists. Acknowledging this echoes the question, "What is reality?" At this moment it doesn't really appeal to me to attempt to answer. At this moment I am absorbing the reality of the motion-picture adaption of Watchmen, whilst I interact with the tangible to compose this post. Once I have completed this post, I shall re-enter the reality of Enrod The Clockman's homeworld, Planet Aeruen, continuing the completion of the line art for the current 10-page short story that I'm working on. In this reality, the characters whose lives I'm revealing are indeed alive to my mind, they have feelings, histories, ambitions. I know when most were born, and I know when some will die within the history of their world.
More on this when it strikes me, for now I must complete a page, and then re-engage the tangible at a friend's party.
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