“Confession,” Kyra Sedgwick whispers at the end of innumerable commercials on TNT, “is good for the soul.” Oh, Kyra, how I hope you’re right. Because I can’t stand the secret shame any longer.

My name is David, and this is my admission of failure. (Well… one of them.)

It was Wednesday, and I had just picked up my comics for the week. There’s a sandwich place near the comic shop, and I thought to myself, “What would go well with a stack of graphic novels? A toasted foot-long turkey sub with pepper jack, that’s what.”

In I went, and placed my order. The shop was manned by two young gentlemen. The cuter one prepared my sandwich. The merely cute one stared at me in that unnerving way that makes you suspect you’ve run into a classmate from high school, like when you run to the grocery store while visiting your parents and constantly pray that you don’t see your student council vice-president running the pharmacy counter.

But he wasn’t staring at me, just the parcel in my hands.

“You been to (the local LCS)?” he asked.

“It’s Wednesday, isn’t it?” I replied. We sounded like bootleggers exchanging code.

The ice was broken. “What are you picking up?” he asked, all enthusiasm at seeing an old man with a bag full of comics.

“Uh… weird stuff,” I stuttered self-consciously. My purchases suddenly seemed —I don’t know — artificially eclectic. A couple of Oni books. A comic drawn by Rob Liefeld. A magazine with a woman on the cover who didn’t have “Spider-“ in front of her name. Some manga. It felt… composed, base-covering. I deflected: “What about you?” I asked.

“I’ve been loving the new team on Fantastic Four,” he noted. “It’s the first time it’s been good since, like, Byrne.”

And a week of heated internet discussion swirled through my head… art comix versus cape fetishists and their ilk, boredom, the gay manga mafia, children cluttering the floor of bookstores and Byrne-stealing without even realizing it, bad shops, good shops, helpmates huddled by the register while their significant others sift through the racks… This was my chance to take a side, here in this humble sub shop!

But I didn’t. I just muttered, “I’ll have to check it out.” I didn’t even go for the meal deal.

And now I’ve shared my disgrace with you all. And the chipotle sauce was bitter… bitter as ashes.

Around this time of year, when possibilities for travel are slim, I’m always gripped with a strong desire to be elsewhere. Not just anywhere — it’s not quite that existential. I want to be somewhere interesting or majestic or exotic or, let’s face it, someplace with better retail and more museums.

So since there aren’t any trips on the agenda (except for SPX in September), I thought I’d go to my fallback position: whine on my blog and hope people will pepper me with titles that will promote vicarious escape. What I’m looking for are comics that have a strong sense of place, where the setting is almost a character in the piece. The comics could be about travel (and I’ve already read and enjoyed Carnet de Voyage), or just be set in someplace interesting, magestic, or exotic.

Any suggestions would be appreciated.

Every now and then, a week will sneak up on me that might not have a great volume of comics but holds the promise of plenty of entertaining reading.

Oni does much of the heavy lifting with new issues of both Colleen Coover’s delightful Banana Sunday and Andi Watson’s heartfelt Little Star.

DC trots out the one title in its super-hero line that isn’t counting down to crises, Legion of Super-Heroes #9. Teen Titans #27 is not written by Geoff Johns, which is good, but by guest scribe Gail Simone, which is even better. It’s drawn by Rob Liefeld. You can’t have everything.

Okay, so maybe Fantagraphics won’t quite achieve the wonder of the recent shojo issue of The Comics Journal, but that’s an impossible standard. I’m sure there will be plenty of good reading in TCJ #270, and it’s got a beautiful cover.

And Viz trots out volume 7 of one of my favorite titles, Case Closed. (This manga is in about its zillionth digest in Japan. I wonder how long it will stay fresh?) I’m not quite as sure about Midori’s Days, what with its insert-creepy-double-entendre-here set-up, but I’ve heard good things about it from people whose tastes match mine. We’ll see.

Cunard has memed me again. He can’t resist, for some reason. He’s like the guy who’s still giving his little brother noogies on the poor guy’s wedding day. (Or, in this case, his much older brother.)

Normally, I would think of England and play along, but this one seems to be a simply spectacular opportunity to over-share personal details that don’t paint me in a particularly flattering or interesting light. And since there’s already ample evidence on this blog of how dorky and boring I am, I think I’ll plead the Fifth this time around.

So, well-played, Edmund, but you’ll have to get up earlier in the morning to trick me into this degree of disclosure. Three days in an unventilated tent passing out free pencils have left me extremely guarded.

I’m going to be doing some work-related traveling over the next few days, so there probably won’t be any new blog entries for a bit. (Don’t worry. I won’t be having fun.) I’m also taking a week off from Flipped, but regular disservice should resume Monday, Aug. 22.

Picking up a comic based on the recommendation of the blogosphere is kind of like being fixed up on a date by a well-intentioned friend. They know this book; it’s smart and funny and attractive, and they think you’d really hit it off.

Sometimes it works out, and sometimes it doesn’t. Everyone has their own perspective on what’s smart and funny and attractive, and there are bound to be divergences even between people with very similar tastes. What promised to be a pleasant evening could turn out very badly indeed.

Bryan Lee O’Malley’s Scott Pilgrim’s Precious Little Life (Oni) turned out to be one of the best comic fix-ups in my experience. It was, in fact, smart, funny, and attractive to a degree that I sort of wanted to set up the second date well before the first one was finished.

So I sat by the phone, waiting for Scott Pilgrim Vs. the World to call. The wait was a little longer than I would have liked, but there was really no chance of it seeming too short. But the lag gave me time to wonder: Was that just a fluke? Now that the newness is gone, will the second date be anywhere near as much fun as the first? What if it’s run out of things to say and just pulls out the same old patter from last time?

I shouldn’t have worried. The second volume, while not as full of eye-popping surprises as the first, is equally charming company. The patter goes a little deeper (even if it’s ostensibly just about garlic bread), and the characters get a little more personal. They’re comfortable enough to share some more embarrassing (and funny) bits of their biographies, and their circle of friends moves in tighter now that the scent of a relationship is in the air.

But as O’Malley fleshes out his cast and lets them cut a little closer to the heart, he’s still playing around with his narrative. As you may remember, the series follows would-be rocker Scott as he tries to win the heart of mesmerizing courier Ramona by defeating her legion of Evil Ex-Boyfriends. Instead of assuming a formula for these encounters, O’Malley changes things up nicely. He foregoes the epic struggle (with a musical score) of the previous set-to, going instead for hilarious anti-climax. I can’t wait to see what he does with the next poor sap from Ramona’s past.

All the strengths of the first volume are in place: the engaging, flexible visuals; the clever, conversational dialogue; the game-for-anything cast, still refreshingly low on irony. The pacing suits the moment, whether it’s a dinner date in Scott’s crappy apartment or a pitched battle in the library. The tone – utterly sweet and sincere, even with the game-logic flourishes – holds everything together and lets O’Malley play around with his narrative.

A lot of people have praised the book for its newness and innovations, which is fine, though I don’t really see it,. The Scott Pilgrim books seem utterly old-fashioned to me: boy meets girl, boy and girl like each other, complications ensue. It doesn’t get any more basic than that, no matter how you dress it up. The playful weirdness and bits of flash are fun to watch, but the substance of the story and characters is what sustains things.

I’ve enjoyed reading different answers to the “What five comics would you take to a desert island?” question that’s been floating around. I feel like I should just do one list of comics regardless of nation of origin, but I also feel like cheating so I can mention more titles.

So, manga first:

1. Buddha, by Osamu Tezuka, Vertical. I’ve loved what I’ve read so far, and there’s something terribly satisfying about the meticulous reproduction and beautiful presentation. Having that stack of hardcover classics would be really comforting.
2. Fake, by Sanami Matoh, Tokyopop. This will always be one of my favorite shonen-ai/yaoi titles, I think.
3. Kindaichi Case Files, by Satoh Fumiya and and Kanari Yozaburo, Tokyopop. I love a good mystery.
4. Sgt. Frog, by Mine Yoshizaki, Tokyopop. Surely you all knew that was coming. I’m stranded, for Pete’s sake! I’ll need some laughs.
5. Fushigi Yugi, by Yuu Watase, Viz. Imadoki! is my favorite work by Watase, but it’s disappointingly short at five volumes. There are tons of volumes to Fushigi Yugi, and I’ve only read the first few so far. This would allow me to indulge in shiny new Watase goodness.

Now, for the rest:

1. Lost at Sea, by Bryan Lee O’Malley, Oni. Much as I love the Scott Pilgrim books, this is my favorite work from O’Malley, and it’s endlessly re-readable.
2. Odds Off, or, L’Amour foutu, by Matt Madden, originally published by Highwater Books. It’s very observant and funny in its look at tangled relationships.
3. Owly, by Andy Runton, Top Shelf. This would be pure, soothing comfort-food reading.
4. Keith Giffen’s run on various Legion of Super-Heroes titles prior to the five-year gap, DC. These are some of my favorite spandex comics, and I haven’t sat down with them in a while.
5. The Steve Gerber run on Defenders, particularly the Headmen-Nebulon arc, Marvel. Great, weird comics, and the best reason for another Essential volume for the title.

Those lists aside, I’d still rather not be stranded anywhere that doesn’t have an indoor pool and room service.

It wouldn’t be Tuesday if I didn’t take a compulsory stroll through the week’s shipping list.

Will Action Comics get back on track after last issue’s surprise crossover? Or will there be post-“Sacrifice” keening and wailing? Oh, no, it’s actually a crossover with Villains United, and since that’s the only big summer mini I’m buying, I won’t complain too much. In the more remote corners of DC, we have Zatanna #3 and Fables #40.

Marvel offers Captain America #8 or 9 (depending on where you’re looking) and Gravity #3. There’s also a hardcover collection of the first 18-issue volume of Runaways, coming in at $34.99, or just under $2 an issue. I have all the singles, and the comics are all available in a relatively cheap digest form, but that’s not a bad price for a hardcover with so much content. Who knew?

Oh, and Marvel also has Young Avengers 7, which makes me very happy.

Fantagraphics has The Comics Journal Library 5: Classic Comics Illustrators, featuring the work of Frank Frazetta, Burne Hogarth, Mark Schultz, Russ Manning and Russ Heath, edited by Tom Spurgeon. (Scroll down a bit on the Fantagraphics home page for the solicitation text and cover image.)

There isn’t a whole lot in the way of manga, but I am curious about Bizenghast, one of Tokyopop’s OEL titles. It certainly looked gorgeous when I gave it a quick browse at Barnes and Noble. And it opened with an in-story newspaper clipping that didn’t make me wince in pain.

Shojo Beat #3 lands from Viz, though I think I’m going to pass and hold out for the tankoubons of the titles I liked. Maybe I’ll cave. We’ll see.