Canto CDVI: How (and Why) to Draw Homer Simpson

Gentle cabrones:

It was 26 years ago or maybe 27, but I remember the scene as clear as what I had for breakfast (chili cheese fries).

Orange Coast College. The classrooms just behind the Robert B. Moore Theater. Waiting for the TV class of Bob Lazarus, a bearded guy with a fabulously scratchy voice who saw Otis Redding perform in Paris. Art and I were bored out of our boxes, to use Trainspotting lingo.

There was a whiteboard before us. We had all of our work done for the other classes and the class we were about to attend. We needed to be entertained in the days before laptops, let alone smart phones.

So I decided to draw.

I am not a drawer at all. Definitely not an artist. I’m good at mimicry, and I tried to do the Sistine Chapel in my bedroom growing up until my parents got wind of me drawing around my bedroom’s light switch and that was the end of THAT.

But at OCC, I had a whiteboard before me and nothing else to do. We found a marker. There was one thing I knew how to draw: Homer Simpson.

To this day, I say that my biggest influences growing up were The Simpsons, the Beatles, Howard, Stern, and Catholicism. The Simpsons to me were the paragon of hilarity but also genius. I used not only see the new episodes, but the repeats Channel 11 used to have at 6:30, 7:30 AND 11 at night, which meant I could — and still do — quote the best lines and take lessons from them. Homer wasn’t my favorite character (it was Martin Prince in the early seasons, because his lines were SAVAGE — “Spare me your euphemisms. We all know it’s fat camp for Daddy’s chubby little secret” is a takedown out of All About Eve), but somehow I learned somewhere how to draw Homer’s face, and so I proceeded at OCC thusly:

A full circle for his left eye, a three-quarter circle jutting out of it for his right. Dots for the pupils on each. A slight curl starting near the left edge of the right eye for an eyebrow followed by a bigger one that swooped up, around, curved in then went straight down — his head and neck.

Below the eyes, do a parallel line that quickly curved back and let it go toward the neckline at a curved slope, then loop it back up about three quarters of the way — you’ve created Homer’s perpetual 5 o’clock shadow and the bottom of his jaw. Back to the bottom of the nose to do another jutting curve inward — now Homer is smiling. Two curved lines at the top of his head to make Homer’s two remaining top hairs. Then the flourish of a finish: In between his left eye, right next to the neck, an M and a backwards G to make one more strand of hair and his ear but also reveal Matt Groening’s own tribute to Al Hirschfeld.

Voilà, Homer Simpson!

Art and I were amazed I was able to pull him off. So I did it again. And again. I filled up that board until there was at least 30 Homers, each of varying worth.

That became our thing. That became my thing. Whenever there was empty space, I would draw Homer. And then I stopped for years. I’m not sure why I stopped and I’m not sure why I started to do it again a few years ago. But here I am.

I do it whenever I go to the home of NELCYN and see their walkway drawn up in chalk because NelCYN Drew something for Mateo THA GOD. I do it if there’s a whiteboard (and sometimes “Riley wuz here” for good measure). did it the last time before last week I had an appointment at Orange Circle Optometry, the delightful storefront in Old Towne Orange run by a Cuban-Vietnamese couple and whose store manager is a tour manager for the Sweet and Tender Hooligans.

Here’s my Homer for them – it’s terrible! But it’s mine, dammit.

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What ties you to who you were? Oh, you could insist like me that you’ve never changed – but you always do. The best humans do. You go through life and meet new people and you’re just not the same person that used to be, and that’s OK. 

And yet parts of you never change – hopefully the most important parts. For me, that’s what drawing Homer represents. 

Art remains my best friend. I can still recognize genius, which was The Simpsons in its first 10 years. I still force myself into doing something beyond my comfort zone — It’s called being a columnista. 

That drawn Homer represents a Gustavo that didn’t know what was before him in the world, but he was gonna rush toward it. In 1998 or 1999, whenever I drew the first Homer, I was Double A material who wanted to make it to the big leagues and had no idea how to do it – but I sure as hell was going to try.

I’m still trying. It’s not imposter’s syndrome — I know what my accomplishments are. But I can always do better, and that’s what I love about always drawing Homer.

I’m never gonna be perfect at it — remember, I’m not an artist. Every Homer comes out different. I always forget how to to do the loop for the bottom jaw which ends up making Homer looking slack-jawed like Cletus. When I do a slew of them, they tend to degrade after each one.

But just because I messed up once doesn’t mean I’m going to stop. Just because my Homers aren’t the best doesn’t mean I won’t try harder. I will never be Matt Groening, but that’s not the point. I found something I liked to do, and I’m going to do it until I can’t do it any longer.

And if you’re going to do something, you might as well get better at it, because I can always do better.

I always do better. Only way to live.

**

Enough rambling. This was the semana that was:

IMAGE OF THE WEEK: A shot of Fernet Branca at Chapter One: the Modern Local in SanTana that my honey bought me and my cousin Plas. Reason this canto is late today — too much fun last night. But no hangover!

QUOTE OF THE WEEK: “I strive to be brief and become obscure” — Horace

LISTENING: “Vivir Mi Vida,” Marc Anthony. Some people say I look like him — HELL NO. But I wish I could sing like him, dance like him. And his presence! A tour de force song for a tour de force man smart enough to transform the global smash “C’est la vie” by Khaled into one of the great salsa anthems of the past quarter century. Hence included in Gustavo Arellano’s Weekly Radiola of Randomness YouTube songlist, where I’ve included every song I’ve ever featured in a canto — give it a spin!

READING: “A. Philip Randolph Remembering the civil rights leader and my friend of over four decades”: An unsung civil rights legend praised by Bayard Rustin, another civil rights legend unsung for too long. I always love to read legends pay homage to their legends, and Rustin — ever the magnificent writer — did his mentor justice back in the day and was frank about their disagreements.

BUY MY NEW CO-BOOK! People’s Guide to Orange County tells an alternative history of OC through the scholarship and reporting of myself, Elaine Lewinnek, and Thuy Vo Dang. There’ll be signings all year — in meanwhile, buy your copy TODAY. And, yes: I’ll autograph it!

Gustavo Events  

A big slate of them for the fall revealed next week! Stay tooned…

Gustavo in the News

“From Taco María to the woods of Wisconsin, Carlos Salgado moves east”: The Orange County Register follows up on my exclusive columna about the future of the Taco María legacy.

“Migrants from Venezuela detained at an El Salvador prison open up about the abuse they endured”: A Los Angeles Times newsletter you should subscribe to plugs a columna of mine.

“Letters to the Editor: America’s true heritage is the kind of dissent Trump is trying to hide”: Los Angeles Times readers chime in on a columna of mine.

Gustavo Stories 

“Grítale a Guti”: Latest edition of my Tuesday night IG Live free-for-all.

“City of Orange blocks resolution to unmask federal agents”: My latest KCRW “Orange County Line” commentary talks about what almost happened in the all-American city.

“A new iteration of Taco María opens, in an unlikely place”: My latest L.A. Times columna breaks the news that Carlos Salgado and his wife, Emilie Coulson Salgado, are opening up in her native Door County, Wisconsin. KEY QUOTE: “Nothing against the Badger State, but the idea of a Mexican chef of Salgado’s caliber setting up on a peninsula jutting into a Great Lake is like Shohei Ohtani announcing he’s leaving the Dodgers to join a Sunday beer league. Gustavo Dudamel deciding his next gig isn’t the New York Philharmonic but the Whittier Regional Symphony.”

“Anaheim finally has a bookstore that ‘feels like home’”: My next latest L.A. Times columna features The Untold Story, a great new bookstore/community space on Anaheim Boulevard near City Hall. KEY QUOTE: ““We’re going through hard times,” Barrios Gracián said as Argentine rock gods Soda Stereo played lightly from speakers. “I can’t give a lot, but I can give.””

You made it this far down? Gracias! Follow me on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram while you’re down here by clicking on their logos down below. Don’t forget to forward this newsletter to your compadres y comadres! You can’t get me tacos anymore, but you sure as hell can give them — and more — to the O.C. Catholic Worker!