set backs galore! (or how i became a jerry springer show special)

okay–so i’m of irish descent….

(excuses! just the facts,ma’am!)

and though i am aware of most of the rules & laws & such of our society…i don’t understand them. like, if a person comes across the love her life making out with a brain-damaged pothead in broad daylight just a block from her house…shouldn’t one kick to the knee be allowed? granted, as the man cop alluded to, i should have kicked dusty as well…. but i kicked a girl. i lost my heart. and i broke my elbow all in the span of a few blurry rage-filled moments.

and now my pages aren’t done yet.

maybe i can work more tonight. or maybe i will take one or two of the tylenols with codeine that the kind & handsome dr. joe gave me for my elbow.

one thing is for damn sure. i need to stop finding new material to work with. enough already. keep the drama to the pages, mama.


my sylvia plath fantasy….

(really building the suspense for page 30 now)

look how conservative i used to be with my ink! yes, this is my first comic confusion perfume which was written back at the turn of the century. i started writing it right after the first husband and i split up the first time and wrote it until the second husband (dusty knickers) and i met and fell in love. it was based on my neurosis & my dysfunctional single life–and starred a character based on me (that’s original, right?) and a character based on my dog–norman. i loved writing it. i wish i hadn’t stopped, but i had to obsess over a new relationship and the comic suffered for it. i’m thinking of posting it over at  i will let you know.

but! oh, the point of all this, i have been to deep, dark, morbid places since we have last talked, dear reader. the blackest depths of my so-called soul. it wasn’t pretty. but i made it back. this comic here, “my olphelia fantasy” comic, came to mind while i was moping in a most poetic way. i fantasize about death–a lot–whether i am happy or sad. however, when i am sad, the fantasies are that much more…er…dark & disturbed…often about my own demise.  i have another strip from confusion perfume called “suicide girl” that continues in the same vein. getting attention & satisfaction for others’ crimes against you by dying. okay…so it’s adolescent…but it exists, those thoughts. and i wrote comics about them. it’s better than acting them out. i survive…& i make comics about it.

moses jones is much the same. except i have zombies to wrassle with in addition to my neurosis & dysfunctional relationships.

speaking of dear moses! i still haven’t finished page 30…or it would be here. but, rest assured, i am losing my mind for every day i go without creating. how much longer can i go? let’s not find out. so! tomorrow i will have something new to post…or i shall die trying!(insert dramatic music & lighting here)