Ad Astra Per Audentia

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Hi.
I’m still here, although now I’m not sure how much of me is someone else. My secondary identity has subsumed me - and who’s to say it’s not better that way? Still, the part of me that is still me has not forgotten what it’s like to hold the mic, so I guess this is my little day in the sun. Also here’s some drawings I made this year. Hope you like ‘em.

The Year of the Rabbit has come once more. In the last Year of the Rabbit, twelve years ago, my flagship series "The Bunny System"  completed its seven-year run. Since then, many projects have come and gone, culminating in this abhorrent dry spell I've been in for some time now. Even when I finally got some of my mojo back, it insisted on manifesting in a way that's needlessly complex, contingent on anonymity and, as the kids would say, "cringe."

But the Year of the Rabbit has come again, and I want to turn it around. I still don't know how, but I'm going to try to find a way. I'm sure I'll never hit the heights of Bunny System again - hell, I went through my to-do list and NONE of my potential projects are what you'd call "gag comics" - but there's got to be SOMETHING in here that will both hold my interest long enough to make it, and hold my audience's interest long enough to enjoy it. I'll at least try to update my journal on a more frequent basis with something to show.

I hope that 2023, the Year of the Rabbit, will be the year that I finally come home.

I'm sure as hell not waiting another twelve years to try!

Hi, last person reading this. No, I am still not dead. I have, however, become oddly detached from my former online identity. It's weird. Not all bad, but definitely weird.

I honestly don't have much to say for myself. Outside of my work as my alternate secret identity, the only thing I've really made in the last year is a card for my mom for her birthday. It's the hippopotamus ballerina from Disney's Fantasia. In my research, I discovered she actually has a name - Hyacinth Hippo. Isn't that charming? Here she is:



Meanwhile, this other side of me is growing, it's absolutely unreal. I remember I said I would identify it once it usurped my old self - if, as I put it, "Clark Kent managed to outrun Superman." But what if I only said that because I didn't think it would happen? But what if it could happen? What if it's happening RIGHT NOW?

But at least part of me is still me, and today is still my birthday, no matter what. So, consider this proof of life. At least I'm still making art, and I haven't forgotten my old original projects. Perhaps I will still come back to them someday. I guess it depends who can grow the fastest, me, or my odd metaphysical cancer. I guess it depends on which one of us is the cancer?

Well . . . shit. Did I ever pick the wrong time to disappear. I completely missed the departure of one of my most seminal Livejournal connections, and I feel like a complete asshole about it. He was such an important part of my LJ life for many years, but I guess we just kind of drifted apart until only very, very recently. He wanted to get back in touch with me, so I wrote him a little while ago, but he never wrote me back. I guess now I know why. I'd like to imagine that, even though we fell out of touch and I've changed a lot, he would be pleased that I am at least still churning out comics.

Honestly, he was THE person who got me into Livejournal. It took him like a year of nagging me. In the end, I'm glad I did it and I'm even gladder I told him so. He was always a source of support,  experienced advice and good-natured ribbing. He was a passionate man, sometimes quick to anger, but always honest and willing to apologize when he was wrong. That's a rare treasure in any age, but especially this one. And, as everyone knows, he was a dedicated cartoonist, a wildly creative mind and the FILTHIEST son of a bitch! :D

He came all the way out to see me in San Francisco in, like, 2007. It's a long way from London for anybody, but especially for a dude in a wheelchair. And he had to come to "the City of 48 Hills"! We met a few times and had drinks and a great time. His wife took a picture of us right after he made me laugh at something. It's the only photo I have of him.



RIP Matt. You achieved so much, you made it all look easy, and you were generous enough to bring so many of us along for the ride.

"Give the people what they want." - comedian George Jessel

"If I'd asked people what they wanted, they would have said faster horses." - car producer Henry Ford



So, I normally do a kind of sum-up, "state of the union"-style post for my birthday, but it's too late for that now, and it's too early to make it a new-year-new-me kind of thing, so  . . . . fuck it, random holiday season update.

So, how is that last little alive spark of me doing out in the digital wastelands? Shockingly well, actually. I'm no longer working as feverishly as I was at the very start, but I'm still consistently producing and my labor is finally starting to show fruit. I'm currently maintaining three different accounts for artwork and each one is growing. They're growing slowly, they're growing unevenly, but they're growing. There's a market for what I do now. I am no longer trying to stuff original ideas down the throat of an unwilling public acting like a seven year old being force-fed overcooked Brussels sprouts. I make fan art for fans, and they like it. Some of them, anyway. Most original work being done in the field is still based on IP concepts, and only becomes popular on that basis. But still, sometimes when I think my new mantra to myself, I add a question mark to the end of it - "give the people what they want . . . ?" Would they truly be so resistant to original ideas not based on the IP? I'm actually pretty sure they would hate it, but the fact I'm even thinking about this may be a sign of growth and/or healing. Do I finally want to come home? I don't think I'm ready yet . . . but it's a beginning.

Also, I nearly had a fucking heart attack when I looked at one of my accounts to find that the CREATOR OF THE GODDAMNED THING THE FANDOM IS CENTERED ON IS FOLLOWING ME NOW. I mean, that's a little bit of pressure!

There's really nothing else in my life to report on. Work is continuing the same as it always has. Things are simple and peaceful and slow. Life appears to be caught in an unnatural stasis. The only thing that's really moving, really changing, is the art. Honestly, the whole thing feels like a wish came true on a monkey's paw. I'm more or less happy, but there's definitely a catch, I can feel it. Probably the fact that I'm wasting the last vestige of my 30s on this.

Hope everyone else is doing good. Happy Christmas / Hanukkah / Eid / Dilwali / Festivus, y'all.

Beyond a number of the songs being bangers, they kind of speak to me.

POP MUSIC: "~ Babe, I'm gonna love you like nobody else ~"
ME: "No, you're not."
DANCE MUSIC: "Yeaaahhh, this night is gonna last forever!"
ME: "No, it isn't."
INDUSTRIAL MUSIC: "THE MACHINES CRUSH THE BONES OF MAN TO DUST"
ME: " . . . . I find this relatable."

I thought the 13 Year Old Self Dictionary series was going to max out at 4, but what do you know, I had one more in me! Though this one turned out less "half funny, half pathos" and more "100% personal psychogical breakthrough." Oh, well. Hey, Krulle, Christmas came early!

Okay, so if I can't post any new art for the moment, I can at least give you the rundown on what's happened to me. Basically, it's my fangirl gland acting up again for the first time in years, and trust me when I tell you I am as surprised as you are. I considered my 29th year my more-or-less official exit from public fandom life, and while I would always remember it fondly, I wasn't sad to go. My time was over, and besides, I'd seen enough seventy-year-old fangirls to know that that wasn't what I wanted to be.

(Not addressing acelightning with this one - besides, she's not a science fiction "fangirl," she is a connoisseur.)

So, excellent, I'm a fujoshi in retirement. At least, I was, until my fangirl gland reactivated to pull me in for one last heist.

I fell into this thing with the force of a plummeting meteor and it's taken over my entire brain. It reminds me of a time when my old mentor sent me a giant Katz's salami for my birthday one year, and I made it last for eleven days. For those eleven days, literally the only thing I was thinking, no matter what I was doing, was "Oh boy! I can't wait until I get home from work / wake up / have lunch /etc. so I can eat that salami again!" Yes, the withdrawal period after those days were a sad thing to watch. But the point is, I am living again in that same moment of eternal joyful anticipation centered on a single focus - "Oh boy! I can't wait until I get home from work / wake up / finish lunch / etc. so I can DRAW CRAZY FAN-RELATED SHIT FOR LIKE TWO HOURS AT A TIME."

I'm drawing every day. If I'm not drawing, I'm either scripting or doing postproduction. I haven't felt like this since my prime Bunnies days. What did I used to say about art camp? "I didn't eat, I didn't sleep, I started aging in reverse like Benjamin Button . . . " It feels almost just like that.

So, now, the $64,000 question - why aren't I showing YOU guys, my oldest online friends and fans, any of this shit?

Put simply, I am so fucking ashamed of myself for getting into this fandom (and this pairing. Yes, I got in because of a pairing. No, I haven't drawn anything erotic. Yet.)

I am doing this under a completely different name, and on TWITTER of all places. When I started, I absolutely hated Twitter, it made my skin itch and everything smelled like pee. But I am now trapped in an incredible hedonic treadmill of likes and retweets that rule my life the way the cycles of the sun and moon ruled the life of Early Man.

You might find me in the wild, but I doubt it. This community is small, as the intellectual property it's founded on is relatively new, but the fandom is dedicated and it's growing every day. It also skews much younger, while my people here skew "sophisticated." Makes me realize how old I am, I had to consult Urban Dictionary the other day to figure out what someone meant by someone "having cake." It's a butt, by the way. "Cake" means a nice butt. The funny thing is that the one major thing missing from the community that it seemed to desperately desire above almost all else? Comics. They wanted comics. And I wanted to make them. And I am now feverishly filling that niche like Ron Jeremy on Viagra. I can't stop. I won't stop. It's lasting longer than four hours and I DON'T CARE.

If, IF, this thing gets big enough that I become forced to recombine identities, I have no doubt that I'll end up sharing all of this with you. But right now, I'm afraid I just couldn't live with myself if I did it. So, I appreciate your patience, and if by some satanic miracle you find and recognize me in the wild, please, please don't out me yet. I'll try to make some "primary identity" stuff for the journal or website when I get the ability, but right now, I'm not in control. The little piece of my soul that I partitioned off and sent out into the world is. She's having a grand old time, and I have no idea when she's coming back.