I’ve finally compiled some of my Rat Chronicles comics into a book printed Volume 1 of “Rat Chronicles: the First Wave.”
Anyone interested in owning a copy, send $15 via Paypal to email@example.com with your address and I’ll send one out. If you’re in the lucky first 15, I’ll insert a commemorative pin as well.
Tears of joy! I’m done Van CAF! There were a lot of valuable lessons in it for next time for me.
Was it uncomfortable as hell when watching people flip through books and not buy them? Absolutely. But it made me all the more ecstatic when they did read decide to get a copy for keeps. It was all kinds of emotions in me for the last day, and I was so grateful when someone came up to me saying she’d kept an eye on my comics the whole time and wanted to trade. So much thanks to the organizers for letting me in despite my profoundly silly drawings and stories.
My partner started off calling me conventional endearments, but now calls me “Rat.” Here’s how that happened.
We don’t have guests stay overnight always, but when we do, they inevitably take note of the various rat drawings and comics I’ve put up around the fridge and other places in the house. One of our recent overnighters was inspired to draw one of her own.
To these guests I extend a heartfelt welcome. (That’s Monkey in the background saying “仕事しろ” (Shigoto shiro), or “Do your work.”
My partner, the love of my life, dreams about me now and then. Whenever he dreams about me, he sees me as incredibly short (around 3 feet tall) and essentially as Edna Mode of the Incredibles.
He’s had some very bizarre dreams about me as well. Even though I’m generally very nice to interns in the workplace, he’s seen at least two dreams where I’m abusing interns in silly ways, this time beating them with Chinese eggplants.
My partner often looks at me and stifles a laugh, like he’s seen something hilarious.
“What is it?” I ask.
His answer is always
I’m always doing things that are funny to him. Which, for someone with depression, is not a bad thing. If I can bring one smile to his face, I’m a happy rat.
My sister in law is two years younger than me, just had a baby and is working full time, but carves out time to create beautiful cards on Photoshop. Meanwhile I’ve never really been able to take the time to wrap gifts — it’s just not in my skill set, and I have no inclination to make things look outwardly nice for people.
It’s not just wrapping paper. Beautiful letter stationary and envelopes, lovely cards, this is not really my thing.
Recently, we exchanged gifts, and hers was neatly wrapped, and came with a card. In my case, I just handed it in a bag. Feeling a bit irresponsible, I tried to wrap it properly, but it just looked like a mess of tape and crumpled paper.
A small little sketch. I seem to be attracted to things that have a wonderful side and also outside the conventional norms of beauty or social respectability. Like rats, mice, crows, dandelions, witchy musicians like Azealia Banks, thorny thistles, possums and racoons.
A very strange Australian video inspired me today. Apparently, Roy & HG was a really popular Australian show, and Fatso the wombat is a mascot that won the gold medal for ‘bombing’ — diving. Roy & HG have a whole series called “The Dream” in which they spew random commentary for real Olympic sport footage. This one was the best.