To die, to sleep no more, and by a sleep to say we end.

And Thus NYCC is finished.

I’m told by a certain talking animal sidekick, that I need to do a report on the convention. truth be told, if not for the stomach ache, soreness in my feet, back, neck, forehead chest, hands arms, legs, migraine, and constant ringing in my ears, I wouldn’t even know it had happened.

Unless I counted the dip in my inventory, or reflected on the deep and crushing weight upon my soul enhanced by a weekend of selling myself like a cheep harlot.

All in all, the con was fantastic by all accounts. I met a girl who was actually named Jazmin (yes she spelled it that way) who was cute as a button. The Con staff was friendly and helpful. We had a great spot, I hung out with Web comics ink, and Blind ferret, and I introduced my work to over two hundred new people.

Unfortunately I still feel like crap. Dragon Con really took the wind out of my sails and getting back up on that horse is proving more difficult than I would have thought. I’m told by all these wonderful people that the way I feel I actually pretty typical. By the end of the first year, you start to loose steam, and it’s another goof four years until you get your wind back.

I’m told that these doldrums are what separates the great from the forgotten, and that it only lasts for five years before you find out if you’re going to make it.

I take solace in the fact that I really have done something grand. I take solace in the fact that my few friends are like brothers. (Apologies to my real brother, I didn’t mean to lump him in with Aaron.) And I take solace in the fact that even if I am prostituting myself, at least my clients are walking away satisfied.

Still, I feel a lot like used up and thrown away after a weekend like this.