MOSES JONES: apocalyptic MAMA

i’m pretty excited about this.

i don’t care anymore what “real” comics are supposed to look like.
i do not give a fuck.
i am doing what i’m doing
& even if i die without turning a single head
i am doing
what
i
want.

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apocalyptic mama

it seems like so many books i pick up to read
new fiction, this century fiction
by women
so many end of the world stories.
right now i am reading louise erdrich’s
future home of the living god
and then there is lydia millet’s
mermaids in paradise.
i didn’t realize either one was about the end of the world
until i was reading them.

and of course, margaret atwood.

and so many others. so many.
so i was wondering if they know something.
all these women
is it intuition?
then i remembered that i have my own
end of the world story
i have been playing with for many years now.
for those of you not familiar,
this is the first page of my graphic novel
moses jones:  apocalyptic mama

some people act like everything is game on as usual.
but when my kids talk of their future
and when they are grown up,
i can’t help but think,
“will there still be a world,
when you grow up?”
& if there is a world…what will that world look like?

because surely something soon is going to change.

for better or for worse.

my dead brother

having someone in your life die changes you as much as, say, having a baby.
i would not be the artist i am today if i had not become a mother. i would be a different artist.
and i would not be the person i am today if my brother had not been killed eight years ago today. i would be a different person.

my big brother…sigh.
he introduced me to movies. that is one way i remember him. he took me to see raiders of the lost ark when it was in the theaters and i was all like, “this movie sounds stupid.”
and then i was all like, “that was the best movie ever!”
he took me to see the empire strikes back when it came out
and i remember as we walked back to the car after the movie, he said, “it’s leia. they are talking about leia.”
and i had no idea what he was talking about until return of the jedi.
he brought a copy of terminator home from college and as i watched it, he would say, “surely he’s dead now” every time they thought they had destroyed arnold schwarzenegger.
he introduced me to one of my most favorite movies ever blade runner.
and to another dytopian influence a boy and his dog.

self2

these two pictures were done for a drawing class where i was supposed to do two self-portraits that were meant to be hung together. the top one is from a photo of me as a baby with my brother mike.
the second one is a self-portrait of me in tribute to the polaroid taken of sarah connor  at the end of terminator.

his life and his death are both heavy influences in who i am today.
sometimes i don’t know how to feel about that.

here is a poem i wrote in a writer’s workshop about it:

heavy

when someone close to you
dies
it becomes part of your description
she has brown hair
a nice smile
and her brother is dead

birthdays are the hardest
his last one
i didn’t know
it was the last
his voice sad on the telephone
my pledge to keep in touch
this time

we live in a world
where I can obsessively search for
intimate details of his death
available in short video
burning plane
gray matter splattered on a playground
his last words, “oh, fuck.”

notorious IT guy for the other side
the forrest gump of stolen elections
everything reminds me
of him
the sound of a single engine  plane
sad songs on the radio
politics, christmastime, and charismatic men

i drink irish whiskey this time of year
but it was scotch at his wake
four years now
four years since the last election
four years since the plane crash
a conspiracy theorist’s wet dream
murder republican style

when someone close to you
dies
do you let it redefine you?
hello, I’m connell
a mama, a student, an artist
let me tell you
about my dead brother

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