Harvey Pekar died early this morning. 

Harvey Pekar was just a guy who thought that everyone--even a schlub like him--has an interesting life, worthy of documenting, which he did brilliantly in his comic books, American Splendor, published between 1976 and 2008. He was, according to his self descriptions, an eccentric, grumpy, chronically underemployed guy who thought his everyday struggles with life in Cleveland, his car, shopping, his wife and family, cancer, and sundry everyday kind of stuff were amply worth chronicling.

He certainly experienced his share of suffering, but he was also remarkably resilient and creative. He had the exact modicum of self respect needed to survive. He possessed a strong desire to be who he was and a total absence of pretense.

 He wrote about his life. Without expecting or not expecting anyone out there to care.

His life reminds me that every life is splendid.