Day 280. See you in the funny papers. (7/10/13)

Warning.

I'm going to talk about comics again.

But it's not really about comics. It never is, you may have noticed now that a large slice of these things aren't actually about the things that they claim to be.

I still remember the very first comic that I ever bought. I've told you this before, I know for a fact that I've told you this one before. An issue of Spider-Man, he fought a new version of The Vulture (he'll turn up in the next film or the one after that and then you'll realise who I'm talking about) New York was covered in snow, Peter Parker had flu but he fought on because that's what heroes do. I was 5 or 6. It was 1968 or 69. I don't have that comic any more but I remember it pretty damn vividly.

And I remember buying the first appearance of The Creeper (DC anti hero, slightly maniacal, written and drawn by the legendary Steve Ditko) and an issue of Batman wherein the star pointed out at you (me) from the cover and yelled "STOP!! A MURDER HAS BEEN COMMITTED AND NOBODY LEAVES THIS COMIC UNTIL THE GUILTY PARTY IS CAUGHT!!" or suchlike.

I don't have either of those. No idea what happened to them. Lost somewhere along the years, the years before I started truly collecting. Up until my teenage years I was probably just a geek but then I turned into a 'collector'. I knew the value of the comics that I was buying, knew the issues that would one day fetch a good price, made sure that I had them.

I was fairly lucky in the timing of my growing up, I was present as the X-MEN in all their incarnations launched their ascent to global phenomena, able to point at the tales as examples of well written superhero space soap opera, secure in the knowledge that one day these takes would be worth a fortune.

And I kept reading. I keep reading. I long ago lost any impression that I was a collector, I was more just a dedicated reader, then I became a casual reader, an issue missed here and there was no big deal. Then I started to notice that the stories weren't always worth the price I'd paid for them. Three pounds plus for a five minute read seemed stupid for a man approaching 50. So I dropped titles, didn't pick up new ones and wasn't actually that bothered about the stuff that I'd left behind. Stories were happening without my knowledge or involvement and I wasn't overly fussed.

And the expensive stuff sat in the loft. Untouched. It's been there for 18 years now. From the day that we moved into this house until now, at no point have I ever felt the need to open up Giant Size X-Men issue 1 (£695 on ebay) X-Men 94 or 95 (£60 each) Sandman 1 (£55)

They're all available in reprinted collections should I ever feel the need to re-read them, to retrace the interests of my teenage years and I've got them sitting there doing nothing but devalue.

Meanwhile I've got my eye on several guitars that I can't afford or justify.

Can you see where I'm going with this?

Time to let go, time to divest, time to make my past 'investments' work for me. Comics out, guitars in (but specific guitars, I've also got a couple of old guitars that are going to contribute to this purge, those that I have no real need for, that have either been or will be usurped by the new)

Everything is recyclable. E-Bay beckons.

Jesus Christ, I'm actually becoming a sensible adult at last.

But not that run of 'The Deadly Hands of Shang-Chi: Master of Kung Fu' - that's genuinely soooo much better than it sounds.

Or the Jim Starlin issues of  Warlock......

(And a long time after writing this I actually made the effort to sell some stuff on eBay. That issue of Spider-man where Venom appears for the first time? Bought for 50p, sold for quite a lot more. Thank yo very much the younger me)