As I said yesterday, I have no strong desire to read, buy, sell, or even think about comic books. It's to the point where I was actually dreading the inevitable drive to Mile High Comics after work to pick up this week’s batch. Sure, okay, that makes sense. I’m burned out, so I can see why that drive would seem more like a burden than it would an exciting excursion.
So why the hell was I bummed when I found out the holiday pushed back this week’s books to Thursday? While I wasn’t looking forward to going to the comic shop, was I somehow secretly excited about it at the same time? Do I have some sort of pain/pleasure fetish I wasn’t aware of?
Either way, it really doesn’t make any sense. I could understand it if there was a book I was particularly looking forward to, but aside from the new Liberty Meadows, I'm not interested in any of the comics I plan to buy this week (which is an interesting thought in an of itself). Hell, now that I've seen the cover 100 times, I'm not even that excited about Liberty Meadows.
I’m perhaps more confused about my collecting habits right now than I’ve been since I started this blog. I’ve come to accept my desire to hunt and gather. And I can almost comprehend the insatiable need to buy something only to put it in a box. But having mixed emotions about heading to the comic shop? That’s a new one even for me.