First of all – the graphic above is wonderful. Spend some time with it. Then hop over to http://www.viruscomix.com/. Highly recommended.
Now on to the thought stream. This is a little unusual for me – to capture “early-morning brain” this way – relatively heavy on the expletives – and light on reflection with minimal editing. It might end in disaster – or embarrassment – but that’s OK.
I don’t even know where to start. I was going to say something about rediscovering comics at “this age”, but that sounded stupid. There’s the whole…”Well what age are you? What age is your reader? Are you trying to appear cool or hip or relevant or “current” (whatever the “F” that means), or by merely looking at a comic are you trying to reach back to a literary/art form that you’re well past being able to legitimately claim as interesting and appealing and relevant and not because you want to impress someone – but because you want to discover something about yourself – or perhaps rediscover something using some of that so-called “aged perspective” – or wisdom by it’s other name. I hear the voice saying…”Sorry. IT’S OVER FOR YOU! You can’t go back there. You can’t lay claim to the angst/feelings/joy/suffering/curiousity or whatever you think is driving this artist/author. You can’t look at it. You can’t experience it. You won’t get it. You can’t get it. It’s beyond you! Don’t even try.”
If one more thing falls out of the cupboard and on to the counter top or the floor, while I’m trying to organize the overabundance of tea bags and boxes I have somehow accumulated, I am going to fly into a fit of tea-bag-ripping rage that may require my hospitalization. You think I’m kidding? I’m not.
I have been trying to reorganize my kitchen cabinets over the past few days. Moving piles of things from one place to another. This here. That there. Oh so much better. Pitching food that I just “had” to have on hand that is now 8 years old and was the feast for some unknown beetle species and its kin whose exoskeletons are my tip for exemplary service and selection. Ingrates.
Every time I feel I’m making progress in one area, a finger gets hooked on something or I’m carrying or moving too many things at once, and entropy balances the equation. Everything falls towards the floor in a whirling, water color mosaic of arms spinning, seemingly juggling cans and boxes and brightly colored kitchen towels and individually wrapped tea bags from vintages that are certainly unpalatable in 2013. Everything moves away from me in a rainbow spray of metal, cardboard and packaging fit to hang in the Louvre, all having served its purpose in landing it on the shelves of my overcapacity kitchen.
The imagery of this tea bag fury makes me smile, even though it’s NOT funny at all. Not at all.
Filed under Musings, Writing
Wicked funny (from The Arkside of Thought):
Then and Than Grammar Fail