This actually happened because B has the wonderful tendency to say exactly the most awkward thing in a given situation. It’s awesome, usually leads to hilarity. We have been snickering up our sleeves about this one all week.
This comic took a long time to draw, and then a long time to scan. I need to draw them smaller, I guess – my scanner is too small for big big comics.
I will just say that this one was miscalculated. It may seem disingenuous to wish I had more feedback and then delete a comic which receives feedback. But since I don’t really think anyone reads this, I’m just going to try to make myself happy.
Happy Tet/Chinese New Year, Happy Valentine’s Day and Happy President’s Day.
I was thinking about how many times over the past three years (I started Em oi! in 2007, believe it or not) I have thought that a particular comic would be my last, or that it wasn’t worth doing and that I would quit. The answer is – a number of times. Maybe every six months since I came home from Asia (that would be August of 2007). At this point it seems clear to me that Em oi! is never going to be big like Pictures for Sad Children or Hark! A Vagrant! People enjoy it, mostly if they know me, but they don’t send it to their friends, twitter about it, do whatever it is that makes some comics famous and other comics failures.
I guess I’ve come to terms with that by now, mostly. When I draw the comic, it’s because I genuinely enjoy drawing the comic, and the small amount of feedback I get makes me happy enough. But since I’m now doing this for me and not because I’m going to become famous, you may be seeing larger gaps between updates. Juggling school, two jobs, planning a wedding, and trying to finish my novel IN ADDITION to drawing the comic is becoming too much some weeks. I’m sorry; I know there are a lot of people out there who find this entertaining (I assume there are, anyway – some silent minority).
So, thanks for reading. We’ll see how it goes for the next three hundred.
When I told B I was doing this, what he actually said was, “You don’t have to lie, it’s okay.”
“I’m not lying! I’m really going to do it!”
“Uh-huh. Why don’t you just get more sleep?”
As of right now, I have had a cup of chai and no coffee (it’s about 15:30). I am mostly awake (running in the cold helps), but I have a headache. We’ll see how it goes.
Also: 300 comics. I’m not sure if I’m thrilled or vaguely horrified. Probably both. What have I done? I keep asking myself. What have I done?
True story. Take-away lesson: spelling is important.
Once I had an argument with two guys in a bar (I know, right?). One of them contended that “A Perfect Day for Bananafish” by J. D. Salinger was the best short story ever written in English. Another suggested the true answer was, “The Snows of Kilimanjaro” by Earnest Hemingway. I, of course, knew that the answer was “The Dead” by James Joyce, though after I read the Hemingway I was willing to admit it to second place.
Today I sat down and read “A Perfect Day for Bananafish” because I felt like reading some Salinger and I don’t currently own a copy of A Catcher in the Rye. It’s a really good short story, definitely solid enough for third place. It made me think about how all three of these great works of fiction are centered around death. There are plenty of short stories and novels about love, but it seems like only through looking at death do we really create literature that examines The Human Condition.
It’s a theory, anyway. (Most of my favorite books have both love and death in them – Ulysses, The Great Gatsby…)
Salinger was 91 so this isn’t exactly a surprise. Whether he has a closet full of unpublished novels or not, I wish him the best. He was a guy who really liked to write, and I can respect that.
I want to emphasize that the third panel is entirely about sex. There are no babies in my immediate (or even not-so-immediate) future. Or Bryan’s, for that matter.
We are creeping up on comic 300, aren’t we. In fact we’re all but nuzzling the back of its neck. How the hell did that happen?
I’m actually feeling somewhat better about this, which is why I decided to post it. B suggested when I drew it on Wednesday that I should wait and see how I felt come Friday. I’d say that was an intelligent thing to point out though. Also I couldn’t think of anything better and now it is late.
This weekend we went shopping for wedding rings.
This is actually the most sexist/awkward Wedding Industrial Complex thing we’ve done since we started planning the wedding. First I had to explain to two separate people at the (large chain) jewelry store that I didn’t want a ring with diamonds and I didn’t want platinum, I just wanted a plain band that matched B’s. Then there was this lovely comment.
For the record, most of the people we’ve worked with have been extremely professional when hearing of our rather non-traditional plans. I mean, we wouldn’t be working with them if they had been rude or derogatory. Maybe that’s why I was a little surprised when the salesman came out with this.
I missed Monday, so here is an extra-large comic to compensate.
Per the last two panels, it turned out that the margarine I always buy was the lowest in fat. Exciting, I know.
Lucy Stone (sometimes Lucy Stone Blackwell) was one of those interesting figures from early feminist history. She put herself through college, lectured all across the South on abolition and women’s rights, wore bloomers, kept her hair short, and still managed to get married and have a daughter (who herself was also a feminist and college educated – Alice Stone Blackwell).
Her husband, Henry Browne Blackwell, allegedly proposed within an hour of their first meeting (he’d seen her speak previously, and was a fan). She said no, but two years later they got married. I guess he convinced her.