Lane was a big fan of a gay comic that appeared weekly in Frontiers, about an assimilated couple: they lived in a straight neighborhood, had mostly straight friends, and had problems involving kids and in-laws.
"That's what life should be like," he said one night. "If the world wasn't so homophobic, we could move down to Anaheim, buy a house, and adopt a couple of kids, just like..."
"Just like our oppressors?"
"Just like straight people. And look -- one of the guys is short, slim, and Jewish, and the other is tall, goy, and muscular, just like us!"
"Must be a sign," I said, busily channel surfing.
One Sunday night in January, we went to a book signing of gay cartoonists at the Different Light Bookstore. Tim, who drew Lane's strip, looked nothing like his characters: he was about 40, and big, bigger than me everywhere: 6'8 to my 6'1, and about as wide as he was tall, with impossibly wide shoulders, thick heavy biceps, enormous hands and a big belly. I swear if he lay down on a bed, he would take up the whole thing!
Add a thick black beard, leather chaps, and a leather vest festooned with silver skulls, and you have a cross between a heavy-metal rocker and a Hell's Angel. No wonder there was no line at his table.
The full story, with nude photos and sexual content, is on Tales of West Hollywood.