About June 2022

Jul08
by on July 8, 2022 at 10:00 am

A series of three four-panel comics. In the first panel of the first comic, Emily sits, back to the camera, in a mundane living room, a TV stand and coffee table with various knicknacks on it visible in the background. There appears to be a sword, rendered in flat orange and blue with no outline, sticking out of her chest. Her inner monologue remarks "Oh." In the second panel, we zoom in on the front of Emily's chest and the sword hilt, radiating light where it's sticking out of her. She reaches for it with her right hand tentatively. "It's been a while since this has cropped up," she continues. In the third panel, we zoom back out: Emily slouches into the couch, observing the seemingly spectral sword with exhaustion. "I suppose it's a good sign," she muses inwardly, "that I had forgotten how it felt." The fourth panel includes two identical swords, both laying horizontal across the panel. One is rendered in orange, the other in pink, with teal and royal blue swatches behind them, indicating the time that has passed. "It still sucks, it still hurts, but now I know that it won't last," the narration reads. "And I know I'm better now, in spite of it." The second comic. In the first panel, Emily sits on a couch, dressed in a plaid button-up shirt, a t-shirt underneath, and checked pajama pants. There is a laptop on her lap, from which a tiny anonymous figure is sticking out of, saying "well, you know, we're all going to get COVID eventually--" as Emily leans back, quietly humming in disgust. In the second panel, Emily is standing in an elevator, button-up shirt, backpack, and mask on. There are two similarly anonymous blobs behind her, happily chatting and laughing away, maskless. One says, "It's inevitable, you know?" seemingly continuing the comment from the first panel. Emily's annoyed humming grows louder. In the third panel, she turns on the two figures and bellows, in text that takes up the entire panel "IT SHOULDN'T HAVE BEEN INEVITABLE YOU--" with the insult cut off by Emily and the figures. The fourth panel reveals that the third panel is Emily's thoughts, as she continues to stand annoyed in the elevator with the figures laughing. "God I need to quit," her internal monologue quips. The third comic. In the first panel, we overlook a city street, with the silhouette of a tree in front and the outlines of buildings in the background. There are few wispy clouds in the sky. While Emily is not visible, her narration is present: "I've been ruminating far too much lately." In the second panel, we see Emily sitting at a table, inside, overlooking the scene shown in panel one. She is in her apartment, blinds pulled up to open the windows at various heights. Her crossed arms are resting on the table, near a mug of coffee. Her narration continues: "Turning over old moments like rocks, uncovering old feelings. Finding new anger like weeds even after all this time." In the third panel, we zoom in on the mug of coffee. There is a plume of steam rising from it. The buildings and trees are still visible in silhouette in the background. "There's nothing to be gained from this soil anymore though," the narration continues. In the fourth panel, we've returned to the outside. The trunk of the tree is in focus, outlined and shaded. We see the dirt it is rising up from, the tufts of grass along the base. There are cars parked on the curb in silhouette. Emily's narration concludes, "How do I nurture a new garden of flowers instead?"

Thank you for reading. You can get journal comics for each month typically a week or so early over on my Patreon, as well as behind-the-scenes posts for every Steamed Veggies comic and a bunch of extra process work. Check[…]↓ Read the rest of this entry…