thanks to the enthusiasm of tara caribou, confusion perfume will be published in a collection with a couple other neurotic comics by your friendly neighborhood comic stripper (me)…stay tuned for updates on that!
originally posted in march of 2018
have i properly processed
have i managed to grow
that shackled me
years & years ago?
am i ready to move
my brain festers that much
i listened to
did it work?
i picked an easy one today. i have like fifty more to go? as i re-do my “best” self-portraits with an end project in sight. a book? a showing? something titled, “the invisible exhibitionist: look at me! (don’t look at me)”
i liked the verse that went with this one as well. i mean, i am feeling again as if i have reached a point of healing–made progress.
you know, a year later…but still!
so it turns out that if you spend thirty-six years writing without locating a publisher who will publish you & then just saying “fuck it” and squirreling all your writings away, you create a bit of a situation.
i just went through some actual folders (not virtual ones) to find these gems from the early 90s when i was still using a typewriter because, fuck it, i am….(wait, what’s the opposite of cutting-edge?)
(if i am a dinosaur i want to be a velociraptor.)
wait–you know what–i am going to circle back & say i am cutting edge. i was years ahead of the hipster typewriter trend. i am a goddamned trendsetter.
typewriters are cool.
so, in addition to my working on creating a book from select pages of my art journal self-portrait series, i am also working on putting together a collection of short stories.
short stories that i wrote, and then left to age.
i think they are well-aged at this point, and ready for harvest.
how would that metaphor work?
as you can see from this incoherent post, i am using all of my brain power for editing short stories & art journals while juggling four screaming minions.
meanwhile…i am almost almost so close to being done with the postcard commission & the portrait commission.