You might think, based on a lot of what I’ve detailed here in these posts over the past ten years, that working on my INVADER ZIM show was pretty fraught with peril and sinister dealings. I can see how you could come to that conclusion after reading about the fury of Frank Conniff, disintegrating cheese-babies, and rapacious ghosts. I can’t stress enough that these things were just a matter-of-fact way of life while working on the production and were, good or bad, what colored our lives and times back then.
When I strap myself into my writing engine each night, naked and greased up, preparing these posts for uploading the following morning, I don’t go into it thinking this one will be a happy one, this one will be a sad one, this one will be an angry one. The process is nothing of the sort. It’s just a matter of what comes to mind at that moment, spurred on by the current surging through me from the bolts pressed against my temples, held tight by the helmet and strap.
Whether the fact I’m sharing during that session has positive or negative connotations is the furthest thing from my mind when the neighbors are pounding on the door telling me to stop screaming and to stop it with the crackling and thundering.