adding to my tags because i’ve been thinkin a lot about the post i just reblogged and have more thoughts:
i’ll be real, the more i saw ‘hey adhd influencers are so annoying’ the more i worried that i was unconsciously contributing to the spreading reputation of adhd folks as annoying and over-pathologizing every symptom they experience
and then i realized. i am not a goddam influencer or life coach or representative. obviously i have some obligation as someone who cares about myself and the people that like my comics to not spread harmful ideology or blatant misinformation but i never intended myself to be a “’increase your productivity!!’ blog OR a ‘if you have XYZ you have adhd!’ blog. and i do this for fun, and originally started this blog bc i had a lot of internalized shame and self loathing about my adhd and thought if i could make it funny i might have less of that. let’s get real! and it worked!
i’ve obviously done this kind of thing— (hey these symptoms might be adhd!) a lot before in my life & on this blog, but there’s more to it than trying to be an “influencer” or whatever. a term that didn’t even exist when i started this blog!
i felt very isolated trying to find out if i had any mental problems & what have you originally because of large advice (etc) blogs with staunchly anti self Dx views at the time
so i overcorrected when i DID get dxed and tried to validate everyone who was like me. and of course. not the best course of action always for the ol mental health. tried to be the source of positivity and jokes that i didn’t see because the online adhd presence was near non-existent.
and anyway. i make a lot of fun of myself & the way m brain works in my comics obviously but it is not my obligation to... how do you say.... not be annoying online.
because if folks interpret MY little jokes as a strict guide to diagnosis. that’s on them, really, not me. i also believe “making adhd your entire personality” is a non-issue. so what if people find out they have it and get over excited with identifying as adhd. saying this as someone who DID do it. criticism of this gives the same vibes as people being annoyed that young queers make “being queer” their whole personality. im very obviously more than a guy with adhd, and id reckon other adhd comic artists are too. (im friends with a lot of them!) it’s fine to post about it online.
anyway. i just don’t take myself too seriously and i’m a comic artist for myself first! and you know what, i’ve been considered annoying my entire life. what do i care if a few more folks think i’m annoying. neurotypical or not
128 notes
·
View notes
The Air Again
by Joanna Newsom
June of ‘78
who are you, so arrayed
on the banks of Lake Adair.
Pale lacuna agape
and like the moon in the lake
you are not there,
my poor canary.
At uncertain behest
Maggie blown to the west
in a shimmering dust of gold
with her pale yellow hair
they would call her ‘canary’.
And I loved my Maggie so,
and that is all you need to know.
But women here ain’t ever glad,
not even Emma Nevada,
coming back to share her wedding cake.
Women here ain’t ever free
(and Emma never left)
we never leave,
we never last
we never ask
we never stake a claim or complain or take.
Not till I made a play
for a parcel that lay
on the Amador county line.
Had a notion that I’d find employ by-and-by
at the Lonesome Willow Mine
but they don’t enlist my kind.
In the meantime,
set to prospecting where I was able
and laying my Maggie a table.
And when it was warm we would pan,
when it stormed play Fan-Tan,
and when it was cold
they’d come sniffin’
with gold in their hands.
On and on and again
on and on and again,
you do what you can.
Take an eighth of an ounce
in allowance for the dance, only a dance,
if you’re alone and abandoned and cast aside.
You know, the pastor tried
in vain to ask her hand,
even him, everybody did.
And I had a plan but I had to sign away my mine
and the deed left us free to scrape and bleed and go to seed and never marry
not canary canary canary canary canary canary canary canary canary canary.
In the spring of that year
when the tinker was here,
gals would hire him to mend their tin.
I heard ‘em swarm from afar
like a storm in a jar,
like a choir of cherubim,
singing *him, hymn, hymns.
Whispering, ‘Maggie had gone
must’ve skipped with someone’,
sounded wrong
though it did seem fair.
April turned into May
and I looked every day for you, Maggie,
‘til I heard they found a whore
with the golden hair
on the shores of Lake Adair.
On the sluice she was spread
loose and languid and dead
from the kindness that she had shown.
Still she told me her tale lifting veil after veil
to expose a grin a-honed,
my yellow rose in the lode a-blown.
And though I long to believe
as I muddied my sleeve,
and I studied the wiccan hap,
and I want to revive,
she was never alive.
But by the grace
and the whim,
and the wheel,
and again,
and the wickedness of men.
But what to do then?
I hauled myself up from the shore
and I called at the door
of the foreman.
I told him and he laughed.
So, alas, there was savagery there.
Left a hole in his heart you could roll a cabbage in
‘A cabbage?!‘
“Oh, no no, just a little one, Maggie, just a little one.”
On and on and again ‘til they saw what I am
and I am never done,
I am never done.
Went inside for the light,
got a paper and a pen,
where to begin?
Do you sue for the rights?
Root* for the strike?
Through the alluvium
to where it heeds
*for I’m putting my own ruin ‘til the end to lure o’er the deed.
A noose on a live oak tree bent toward the saloon tent
and meant for me and Maggie.
And though it wasn’t him,
it could’ve been him,
or anyone who had done
what I know so many men intended when they came to win.
So arrogant, arrogant, arrogant, arrogant, arrogant, arrogant, arrogant, arrogant, arrogant, arrogant.
Held a cloth to my hands
taking stock of my plans,
well, there was something I had to make right.
I took his old buggy whip
and I lowered a skip
in the glow of the sodium lights
with a load of dynamite.
Maggie said, “I am here.”
And with a touch on the ear,
“After thirty years down in the mine,
help me lead out the mules
help me free the poor fools,
let them see for the very first time
they were blind, blind, blind.”
Then we rode through the rift and we beckoned to moon reflectin’
and she opened her neck like a stream.
I saw the Father appear,
heard her sob in my ear
like a mob of cherubim,
howling “him, him. It was him. It was him.”
So I threw a charge down the shaft
in the cart with the pastor
who spat and evangelized.
He was the last and the worst —
canary always goes first —
to sing where the waters rise,
hear her sing – go on now, Maggie –
On and on, on and on, on and on, and again
and on and on
on and on and again
on and on and again.
Then a knock on the wall and a knock and we all fall in
and down and in, and down and in
and we pass away.
But we pass only the baton man to man,
and so they return.
Pull the pumps, fill the sumps,
for they’re takin’ something;
they will never learn,
they will never learn.
And even if the churn drill and the stamp mill and the Pelton wheel,
and the smoking furnace all a-burning, overturning, learning
she will never breathe the air
again air again air again air again air again air again air again air again air.
Like a screech of a flare,
or like they’re reaching for air
beneath the smothering eiderdown.
Veins of gold, still outstretched
in a silent arrest
for miles and miles abound.
And if I’m underground
let me join in that line,
let me toil in that mine,
let me find what is hiding there,
let me dig where I durst,
let me drink when I thirst
and let me breathe the peril air.
And breathe
for my canary,
and breathe.
Let me breathe.
Let me breathe for my canary,
breathe for my canary canary canary,
breathe for my —
canary always goes first —
breathe for my canary canary canary canary,
breathe for my —
canary always goes first —
breathe for my canary canary canary canary canary canary,
breathe for my —
canary always goes first —
breathe for my canary canary canary canary canary canary canary canary.
52 notes
·
View notes
Okay. Zip is still hard. I want to give him pizzazz. Much like hum and Xolo. The only problem is that the depictions of the gods that are related to crocodiles are not that fun.
zipacna depictions and their brother cabrakan are very hard to find references for. And I don't mean references entirely. I mean proper historic depictions. A lot of them are worn. Many of them are pencil sketches of the stones of the twin heroes story. Although it is really hard to differentiate which brother is who. cabrakan has a lot more media representation but that is creatively free. Sorry don't wish to use those depictions as reference. So I'm stuck with this one media depiction that is so lackluster it barely gives any detail, and a bunch of pencil sketches of stones that I cannot tell who or what God is in them.
In a wishful chance I looked at the other God that was a runner-up for Zip's name. Cipactli. They have a lot more representation due to their story being Aztec and therefore more fresh in the history books. Unfortunately much like the Earth Brothers their depictions are simplistic. They have a little bit more color, again due to having a pressure depiction in the timeline of history. But it's not much more than a spiky red crocodile. There isn't any fantasmic interesting features. Just crocodile with skirt and necklace. Cipactli of course having teeth everywhere.
I am at a loss of how to give Zip an intriguing design. I could look at general Aztec and Mayan clothing but that feels lackluster. There are of course other gods I could take from. There is of course Quetzalcoatl. God of arts and crafts and a bunch of other things due to how ancient they are. Attempting to look up gods that relate to lizards is testy. For some reason there's a coyote trickster god That keeps popping up. Some sort of creation deity that also pops up and only has one lizard depiction. There's a lot about a day that they worship lizards but no god associated. There is not a lot of interesting depictions when it comes to reptiles unfortunately unless it is the flying serpent.
5 notes
·
View notes
@researcher-larch asked:
Deo looks down at the small creature. It squints it's eyes.
"Your vibes are atrocious small thing."
To say Pecharunt was afraid was an understatement. Whatever this thing was, it had a killer aura of something out of this world. He couldn't quite measure whatever he was facing, and that made it all the more terrifying. In a way, it reminded him of the ogre.
And still, even cooped up in his shell, he had the gall to talk back. "Says you!" He whimpered; "What do you even know about vibes!" And promptly, attempted to escape; hovering away, hopefully safe in his Pecha confines!
2 notes
·
View notes