A diary by means of a collage by means of a cartoon. Verbose explication in the comments. Arriving fresh Mondays. read comics the wrong way at: Latent Narratives
read comics the wrong way at: Latent Narratives
'Truth from the mouths of cats'. There is definitely no safe space, now two years into the pandemic, and everyone at risk of something collapsing around them. The world grows increasingly insane. My cat, too, displaying an ongoing and growing complaint of digestive or respiratory nature, and, to make matters worse, now cat food has disappeared from shelves in the latest effect of the supply chain collapse. There's a certain locus of anxiety here.There's also a play here in that our family and pets are traditionally seen to be the place to which we turn for grounding, but I've never really seen that in either in my life. Everything is only is a growing responsibility that I'm increasingly convinced I cannot meet. This feels like it's probably a pretty common Pandemic Fatigue mental illness complaint (if not a general mid-life masculinity crisis), but, for me, I think it's always been the case. I don't find comfort, by and large, in other living beings. Mostly just in ideas.There's a dark humor, here, in the cat coming up to the downtrodden man. We might expect the animal to be offering support, but, perhaps as is the way of the feline, it's really just to kick him when he's down.