About December 2022

Jan13
by on January 13, 2023 at 4:17 pm

A series of journal comics: ON THE YOUNG THOUSANDS A four panel comic. In the first panel, a gloved hand sits on the sill of a car window. “I drove home today with the windows down,” the narration begins, “hoping that the cold air would ground me.” In the second panel, Emily is sitting in the driver’s seat: bundled up, a tired expression on her face. The narration continues: “Everything feels so tense, like a guitar string pulled too tight. One more twist, and—“ In the third panel, Emily’s gloved hand grips the steering wheel. She continues: “But if the wire snapped, no amount of worrying or self-flagellating or despair and bucking back at the lack of control will predict or divert it. I can’t prepare for a hypothetical moment, only react if it occurs.” In the last panel, clouds sit against a blue sky. “So, what can I control? Tonight we’re making salmon. I’m going to toss the brussel sprouts in a balsamic reduction. We’ll chat and laugh in the kitchen and I won’t worry about tomorrow. Maybe it’a all not as bad as it seems.” -- ON AULD LANG SYNE A series of four four-panel comics. The first set: In the first panel, Emily sits on a couch, eyes closed, iPad in her lap and pencil poised near her mouth. The narration begins: "I've been thinking so much this month--this year, really--about home." In the second panel, the exterior of an apartment building can be seen. There are trees, bare of leaves, in front of and around it. A location marker, like you'd see on Google Maps, floats above the building, in the sky. "How we truly define it--" the narration continues, "how it's people, places--" In the third panel, Emily stands at a bus stop, back to the camera. She's in a coat and scarf, and breath emerges from her. A street light forms a spot light that shines right on her. "A feeling you carry with you in your chest," the narration continues. In the fourth panel, there's a minimal line drawing of the Chicago L train lines, showing the Loop, like you'd see in a station. "How that all weaves together," the narration goes on. "Into ever more complex layers and patterns." The second set: The first panel shows translucent pieces of paper, overlapping and forming different colors. "Those layers are how I carry multiple truths of home with me," the narration starts again. In the second panel, Emily, shaded in orange with several different versions of herself behind her, all backed by the Cleveland skyline, reaches over a threshold and grabs a hold of another Emily, shaded in pink, with the Chicago skyline behind her. "How two cities can be home at different times, in different ways," the narration continues. The third panel is split into three locals: a cabin in the woods, lit and filled with laughter, a bonfire, and a neighborhood bar. The narration pairs each description with each visual: "I've found it in secluded cabins with friends, on the cusp of change, around bonfires after two years of stumbling isolation, at hole-in-the-wall bars on odd, late nights--" In the fourth panel, Emily and her roommate, Em, walk down the street, laughing loudly, backlit by light streaming from windows from the building in front of them. "The most mundane places," the narration continues, "become enshrined in memory, made meaningful with shared noise." The third set: In the first panel, a hand (Emily's) hands a button to another person, only their hand being visible. The narration starts: "As the year ends, I'm grateful for all of these small ways in which I've found home--layers on layers on layers." In the second panel, Emily (in costume) floats around to many different people, all chatting animatedly and joyfully. It's after the Magic Tavern Winter Solstice live show, and the scenes meld and merge into one another. "The weightlessness of shared space without doubt--" the narration observes. In the third panel, Emily turns back toward the room as she gets ready to head out, sparkles in her eyes. "Partings now marked with--" "see you around!" the narration is interrupted by a speech bubble from off panel. In the fourth panel, Emily, shortly followed by Em, stand outside of Thalia Hall. Emily looks up at the night sky. "And the way that light follows me through the night down streets seeped with meaning and beloning," the narration remarks. The fourth set: In the first panel, Emily (once again visible by hand only,) attaches a button to a pennant, dotted with several other buttons. "I started 2022 hoping I could share my gratitude with more people in person," the narration starts. In the second panel, the pennant hangs on the wall, now with the newly attached button. It's the same one Emily was handing someone in the first panel of the third part. "And ended it realizing that the community I was trying so hard to find had been around me this whole time. A layer, among layers," the narration continues. In the third panel, Emily looks on at the pennant, a soft smile on her face. "I don't really know what the new year will bring," the narration goes on, "but I think--" In the fourth panel, a location pin with a house icon sits in the center of the panel. "I'm truly excited to find out," the narration concludes.

Thanks as always for reading.

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