Family Man update!

February 24th, 2010

preview-fm171

Page 171 now online.

There once was, and there will be again, a time where I post something other than just updates to the comic.  Now is not that time, however.  I’m working on getting myself feeling a little more grounded over all, which means I’m going to be scarcer than usual online for the next little bit, here.  (Dear everybody I’m currently working on stuff for:  it is, in fact, happening!)

Meanwhile, please enjoy another page in which wildlife gets the better of our young protagonists.  Next:  notes!

And now, to bed.

February 19th, 2010



Paolo & Francesca from Dante’s Inferno: depictions of the lovers reading a dirty book and falling victim to temptation, shortly before being murdered and subsequently finding themselves damned for, you know.  Kissing.

If you want to see them writhing together, borne aloft on the winds of Hell, forever intertwined, well, that’s another Google image search.

Family Man update!

February 19th, 2010

Preview of Page 170

Page 170 of Family man now online!

At last, at last, at laaaaast, an update.  Let’s not think about how long it’s going to take me to wind down from all the tea I’ve had tonight, shall we?  Some costs cannot be estimated.

What a month, guys.  I’m slowly digging my way out.

February 16th, 2010



In all the ways that count, Matisse was a wonderful cartoonist.

When it comes to his paintings, I always end up thinking of Maira Kalman’s work.

February 15th, 2010



Lost Fairy Tales by Tom Gauld.

I feel that this accurately represents the current state of affairs.  Mr. Gauld is one of my favorites, and I think he’s very deftly filled the gap in illustrative absurdity that Edward Gorey left behind him.

Take Care of Yourselves.

February 11th, 2010

Hello, gang.

It’s a rough time for us here in the Northern hemisphere of developed world; we’re all accustomed to a smoother time than this, aren’t we? The economic woes and the wars and the darkness and the general feeling of societal dis-ease and distrust.

If you are a person (like many of us) who already deals with depression or other mental distress, or who has experienced specific pain and turbulence of late, no doubt those effects have only been underlined.  I myself have been swamped with grief and miasmic anxiety this past month.

In the last month, two members of my family have committed suicide (one indirectly, by way of longterm self-neglect and substance abuse; one very intentionally, after a long struggle with suicidal depression).  Two other acquaintances, people with active roles in their communities and a creative outlook on life, have also recently killed themselves.

Please, my dears.

If you’re struggling, if you are in pain, if the normal palliatives of family and friends and work and all those things we’re supposed to do to “cheer up” have failed you:  please, please please, please, seek help.

Whether that is calling a crisis line, seeking professional help (even if you’re uninsured and broke, it does exist), scheduling a check-in routine with somebody you trust, revamping an old medication, lightbox, or exercise regimen, talking to a spiritual adviser, going running with a friend, anything that counts as telling another person what is going on and asking for help in taking action:  please do it.

The world does need you.  Please do whatever it takes to keep you present and whole.

Find a social worker near you.
Call the national suicide prevention hotline to talk to somebody near you.
Search for health clinics near you, including free and low-cost.
GLBT-friendly therapists, spiritual support, and other resources.

Family Man update!

February 3rd, 2010

Preview of Page 169

Page 169 now online!

Hell of a week, gang.  Sudden death in the family, moving to a new house, all that jazz.  But here is  page!  Huzzah.

More later.

Monday Morning Poem: A Hole in the Floor

February 1st, 2010

home

A Hole in the Floor

for Rene Magritte

The carpenter’s made a hole
In the parlor floor, and I’m standing
Staring down into it now
At four o’clock in the evening,
As Schliemann stood when his shovel
Knocked on the crowns of Troy.

A clean-cut sawdust sparkles
On the grey, shaggy laths,
And here is a cluster of shavings
From the time when the floor was laid.
They are silvery-gold, the color
Of Hesperian apple-parings.

Kneeling, I look in under
Where the joists go into hiding.
A pure street, faintly littered
With bits and strokes of light,
Enters the long darkness
Where its parallels will meet.

The radiator-pipe
Rises in middle distance
Like a shuttered kiosk, standing
Where the only news is night.
Here’s it’s not painted green,
As it is in the visible world.

For God’s sake, what am I after?
Some treasure, or tiny garden?
Or that untrodden place,
The house’s very soul,
Where time has stored our footbeats
And the long skein of our voices?

Not these, but the buried strangeness
Which nourishes the known:
That spring from which the floor-lamp
Drinks now a wilder bloom,
Inflaming the damask love-seat
And the whole dangerous room.

– Richard Wilbur
photo by Jon Feinstein (site)

——-

Generally the poems I pick for the occasional Monday appearance are connected to something very literal in my life.  It’s a way for me to process happenings (from the silly to the significant) and recontextualize them however I feel the need.  Sometimes I know exactly the poem I need to post; just as often I simply type “[topic] poem” into the search field and keep sifting until the right thing presents itself, which it invariably does.  The oracle of Delphi had nothing on Googlemancy.

But, the literal-ness:  this past weekend I ripped up, often with considerable violence, a lot of old carpeting and linoleum in the home I’ll be officially moving into this month, to prepare it for brand new floors.  I am not designed to take such things unmetaphorically, and the bare board that the work exposed feels parallel to all the getting-started going on in my life at the moment, and to the “buried strangeness” that is the mysterious continuity of self in the face of flux.

    {blog in Livejournal flavor}

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