I jotted this down in my notes in July, at around two in the morning, after a rather disappointing experience with a can of silly string so blocked up that, rather than really spraying out, it just kinda fell limply in a two foot arc downward. Have a nice day.
Back on the comics wagon, and really, wishing I owned an actual wagon. It’d be pretty fucking rad to ride around everywhere in a wagon, growing a big fat mustache. I’d feel pretty bad for the horses though, so if I could replace them with robot horses or something, that would be even better. They’d go faster too, probably.
Well, nap time and then filling in more job applications time, I guess.
I hope this is the year I stop constantly feeling like I have a lump in my throat.
I hope this is the year I stop being afraid to talk to strangers.
I hope this is the year I don’t get scared and overwhelmed whenever the slightest thing changes.
I hope this is the year I stop spending hours staring blankly at my computer screen, too anxious to start anything, and too afraid to finish.
I hope this is the year I stop being afraid to answer the phone.
I hope that one day I’ll be able to look forward to things, and not want to bury my head or run away.
I want to not feel afraid to reach out and ask for help when I need it. Not to constantly feel like I can’t find the words any more, and not to stutter.
On my birthday last year, I watched a movie with my dad and then hung out in a bar for an hour and a half with the small handfull of acquaintances that showed up off of a brief public message on facebook.
Now, as I type this, it’s six in the morning, and I’m sleeping on the third or fourth couch I’ve been on since the beginning of June (though a disproportionate amount of the month I spent with my friend Brett, author of Owner of Cat, to whom I’ve very grateful). There’s somebody snoring on the other side of the living room, and it is humid. I can hear grasshoppers chirp, and the sky is starting to get blue, and I’ve been sitting for hours trying to figure out what, something, anything, I could say in summation of the last year of my life, and becoming afraid that I wasted too much time hiding in my room, too afraid to go outside.
I don’t know if I can fix any of that, but I think at this point I would settle for once, just once, not being afraid of today.
Maybe I’ll see you around.
Here’s the other one I did with pen. It doesn’t look as good as it could, even with me reworking the lines.
I redid the lettering too, mostly because when I inked it, when I did the borders, I had the ruler a couple steps off where it shoulda been and I covered part of a line and it wasn’t gonna work. Hurrumph.
For comparison, here’s my original attempt at inking the pencil drawings.
Edit: In hindsight I think I subconsciously stole the punchline, in a roundabout way, from Mike Birbiglia, so really, I think this is a Mike Birbiglia joke. I’m not taking it down because I did it more as an exercise than anything else, and on that level, I think, as a document of attempted work, it’s useful to keep it in place, but I’m pretty sure the joke is something that Birbiglia already did, and I don’t want to look like I’m intentionally stealing his shit, I’m a big fan of his work. And it didn’t occur to me at the time.
I’ve been couch surfing this past week, and that mostly has ended up being me playing Katamari Forever too much.
But, um, yeah. Hi mom, I’m homeless now. I’ve been meaning to call you and tell you about it for a while, but you know how bad I am about that sort of stuff.
Also, my laptop charger is broken again, which makes it harder for me to do this too…
And here’s for today. I found my stylus after I drew this. This is another really autobiographical one. There’s an alternative text for it, but that’s somewhere in the office.
The second panel said “What’s stopping you?” and the third panel said “I don’t want to learn a bunch of punk songs on banjo.”
Hopefully I’ll be able to recover it. It’s a lot more specific, but it rings pretty true, I think.
Derp. I couldn’t find the stylus for my tablet, so I sketched this out kinda quickly with a brush pen, without thinking about composition.
This kinda is the direct result of me being so anxious and overwhelmed on Monday that I physically couldn’t make myself speak for about four hours. When my voice finally came back, everything was so fast and stammering I got afraid that I sounded crazy