I ended up doing a bunch of "spring cleaning" today, which breaks down to: me giving a close reading to my bajillions of tiny mementos (plastic dinosaurs, cat whiskers, crayon nubs), and masses of small pieces of paper on which I have written important things I need to not forget. I get very nostalgic. Oh remember when I lived like this it was different then, it was better it was worse. Oh remember this place here is a picture of who I went there with we don't talk anymore I think she's racist now. Etc.
Anyway I have been thinking about this blog, it's not like I just washed my hands of it and tottered off scot-free.
And mostly what's happening is: I started reading Julia Wertzel, Gabrielle Bell, the ultimate mighty gorgeous Alison Bechdel, and others, and all of a sudden I was like Wait is this my style or am I just fucking lazy? Because we all know I am fucking lazy. But now I wonder if I want to learn how to like use Photoshop for example or something. Have my text go on straight lines. Pencil first? Fuck that. But maybe. You know?
So I have just been sitting around thinking about all that. Also I started this because my heart was so badly broken I was unable to process anything verbally. Now I am mostly on the sunny shore so this has turned into mostly jokes about how Fungus Mungus is a crotchety little jerk. So there's not that same overwhelming impetus to get shit out o my head or I will die.
I donno we shall see what we shall see.
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