I bought a half-off copy of Ikebukuro West Gate Park to fill out a credit card purchase at the Comic Swap which I didn't feel was quite justified by a volume of Bleach alone. The blogsphere reviews of IWGP weren't exactly compelling, and the general fanboy audience didn't exactly seem to rally to the cause, either, to judge by how fast said copy sailed into the cut-rate bin. I suppose the plastic-wrap didn't help matters - who wants to buy an obscure manga you've never heard of, sight unseen?
All that aside, it wasn't quite as terrible as I had expected. The story was passable, the sexual content largely unexceptionable, the art was plastic and rather manufactured in feeling and tone. Very over-inked, very generic. All that aside, the writing wasn't half bad, and the characters were kind of compelling. I liked it more than I thought I would. Not nearly as offensive as, say, Club 9.
Beautiful weekend, wasn't it? Saturday was a great day to spend at work, doing my taxes and catching the weekend planter-logging entry request rush. Sunday? I spent playing computer games.
I really am a hopeless, sunless urban mole.