It's still Monday, I wrote the last post a few hours ago, but the process of going to Australia alienates one from linear time so utterly that I feel like I should just get one in the can. And anyway, I already know what this strip is about: it is about feeling bad!
I was talking to Brenna about The Blessing, and she said, "I don't think I like that." Well, I don't like it either. A few of the things I've written that I found the most interesting also felt the most bad to write. I objectively don't agree with the way an imaginary tribe in a forest I made up subject to environmental pressures that didn't exist before I wrote them comports itself in the face of these challenges that I, myself have authored.
It's quite easy for me to separate this art from the artist, because it's as much a part of me as a sliver I pulled out. It comes from somewhere else, which must not be a common feeling, because people seem quite confused about it. It's not a reflection of my secret wishes or something. It's just weird shit, some colour out of space. I'm never trying to be a bad naughty boy. Sometimes I just get scared and I don't want to be alone with it
It feels like we've developed some kind of histamine reaction to imagination. We are afraid that people will "catch" a bad idea. Well, stupid people are always gonna think dumb things and do dumb shit. That's their whole thing. The solution can't be to make artists dumb too.
(CW)TB out.
