okay. we're throwing a lot at ya here, so lemme step in an' help ya catch up. this is the story about comic books, an' a guy who made a whole life outta them. you could even say comics saved his life. this guy here, he's our man, harvey pekar -- all grown up and goin' nowhere. although he's a pretty scholarly cat, he never got much of a formal education. for the most part, he's lived in shit neighborhoods, held shit jobs, and is now knee deep into a second disastrous marriage. so if yer lookin' for romance or escapism or some fantasy figure to save the day, guess what? ya got the wrong movie.
here's our man walking home from the doctor's. he's got the weight of the world on him. and fer what, really? 'cause his throat's a little screwy? man, people in india are starvin' to death every day. his problems are nothin'.
still, he can't help feelin' paranoid, like some supernatural force is conspiring against him to rob him of his voice.
maybe his old lady will go easy on him today, when she sees how upset he is.
here's our man -- yeah alright, here's me -- or the guy playin' me, anyway, though he don't look nothin' like me, but whatever. so it's a few months later an' i'm workin' my flunky, file-clerk gig at the v.a. hospital. my voice still ain't back yet. things seem like they can't get any worse.
in the early sixties i was with some buddies at a junk sale looking for some choice sides when i met this shy, retiring cat from philadelphia named bob crumb. you know the guy; fritz the cat, mr. natural an' all -- they made a movie about him, too.
so crumb showed me this comic book novel he was working on -- the big yum yum book. i'd never seen anything like it.
crumb and i hung out a lot back then. we had records and comics in common.
eventually people got hip to crumb's art work and he started hangin' out with a bohemian crowd. after a while, he got sick of greeting cards and moved away to san francisco where he got the whole underground comic scene off the ground.
he'd come back ta cleveland every few years, an' people'd treat him like a celebrity.
once he came to visit when i was really feelin' bad. it was right around the time of my throat operation, an' right after my second wife left me. at first it was pretty weird. i mean, here my life was falling apart an' everything was going great for him. i was on my second divorce an' he was a big hit with the chicks. i was a nothin' file clerk and he was this famous cartoonist.
here's our man eight comics later, a brand new decade, same old bullshit. yeah sure, he gets lots of recognition for his writin' now. sure his comics are praised by all the important media types tellin' people what to think. but so what? it's not like he makes a livin' at it like bob crumb. he can't go an' quit his day job or nothin'.
who am i kiddin'. truth is i'd be lost without my work routine.
so -- to stave off desperation and feelings of uselessness -- i resigned myself to a menial existence. but hey, maybe the guy who's had a happy life feels worse just before he dies than th' guy who had a sad one. or, maybe not. i dunno. maybe i just needed a woman.
my loneliness was unbearable, man. weekends were the worst. sometimes in my sleep, i'd feel a body next to me like an amputee feels a phantom limb.
sure my comics were bringin' me notoriety, but my personal life was in shambles. i thought a little attention would make me feel better. it only made me feel worse.
when i got home, i finished reading jennie gerhardt. it was real good, way better than i expected. that alice wuz right.
sure lester -- the main character -- croaks in the end, but at least he's old and dies a natural dignified death.
i was more alone that weekend than any. all i did was think about jennie gerhardt an' alice quinn an' all the decades of people i have known.
the more i thought, the more i felt like cryin'; life seemed so sweet an' so sad an' so hard t'let go of in the end.
but hey, man. every day's a brand new deal, right? just keep on workin' and sump'n's bound ta turn up.
okay, maybe i was bein' so harsh on toby onna count a' my own problems.
y'see, i wasn't even married a month and my old lady was already showin' signs a' trouble. granted, i tend ta get married fast 'cause i'll take any woman that'll have me, but this time i really met my match.
if ya think readin' comics about yer life seems strange, try watchin' a play about it. god only knows how i'll feel when i see this movie. but truth be told, the play wasn't half bad, and we got a free trip outta it. things were goin' pretty good for a change. variety called me "the blue collar mark twain," and doubleday was interested in publishing an anthology of "american splendor."
i tried everything but nothin' could get this woman outta bed.
i mean she wouldn't get a job, wouldn't go out, wouldn't make friends, nothin'.
joyce diagnosed herself as "clinically depressed." i don't know what the hell she was goin' through but it was sure takin' it's toll on me.
joyce finally got off the futon.
it became clear pretty fast that i was invited on the show just for laughs. but what the hell did i care? letterman was an okay guy. let him take pot shots at me, s'long as i got paid an' got to plug my comics.
funny thing is, somethin' about me and letterman clicked for the viewers. he kept wantin' me back.
here was this slick, ambitious guy with millions, winnin' over the country by makin' light of everything. and then there was me.  a messy loser with no dough who takes everything too seriously.
an it wasn't just me gettin' all the attention. as a result of my appearances on letterman, my buddy toby radloff landed a gig on mtv extolling the virtues of white castle burgers.
that day on the set with those mtv jerks, i had an epiphany. it seemed that real, salt of the earth people like toby an' me were bein' coopted by these huge corporations. we were gettin' held up and ridiculed as losers in the system. what can i say, it was the 80's man.
i guess it was good ta finally see joyce excited about somethin' of her own. sure i was happy for her. but i was still upset for me.
it was later that night when i first found the lump.
i was determined to put it outta my mind until joyce got back. easier said than done.
i was startin' ta lose it. between the lump, the loneliness -- i felt like everything wuz closin' in on me. and with joyce over there savin' the world, i never felt more like a sell-out hack in my life.
here's our man a year later. somehow i made it through the treatments, an' the doctors are optimistic. i guess joyce was right about doin' the big comic book. we published the thing as a graphic novel -- our first collaboration -- and ended up with rave reviews. we even won the american book award. go figure.
the weirdest thing that came outta my illness was danielle. with her real mother runnin' around who knows where, an' seein' how well her and joyce got on, fred decided she'd have a better life with us. i was scared at first but then i thought, what the hell. she's a good kid. so we ended up takin' her an' raising her as our own.
yeah, so i guess comics brought me a lot. but don't think this is some sunny, happy ending. every day is still a major struggle. joyce an' i fight like crazy, an' she barely works. the kid's got a.d.d. and is a real handful. my expenses have gone up so much that i'm writin' freelance 'round the clock, just to make my bills. my life is total chaos.
with a little luck, i'll get a window of good health between retirin' an dyin'. the golden years, right? who knows. between my pension and the chunk of change i got for this movie, i should be able to swing somethin'. sure i'll lose the war eventually, but the goal is to win a few skirmishes along the way. right?