I love how your comics take these complex emotions and distill them into funny and sad little parables. The way you say you don't want the spider to die and then, seven panels later, you're squashing it? Wow. There's never a wasted panel or extra bit of dialogue in your work. They're like poems.
Ooph... I read this this morning and felt it pretty good then, but then later today I remembered something similar I did when I was a kid. When I was pretty little, in the summers, I used to catch crawdads and keep them while I was camping with my family, though when we'd leave I think we usually set them all free. They really fascinated me.
We caught a really big one one time, but it had this weird like cancer on it. It wasn't huge, but it was noticeable. It grossed me out and we kept talking about it, so I decided it was going to die anyway and threw it into the campfire. As soon as I did it I regretted it. Who knows what it was? It might have just been an injury that healed weird. Either way, it didn't want to die.
Why did I kill it? And in such an awful way?
My grandma told me that she was disappointed in me for doing it and I've felt guilty about it ever since. Ooph.
Trying to put myself in your shoes, I think the human impulse to capture/control a special item (the spider) runs contradictory to feelings of giving another object freedom/respect, creating intense ambivalence. These feelings might be the most intense when the spider runs away and control is being lost. Unfortunately, one way to resolve these conflicting emotions is to *terminate* the source of the feelings.
Sorry Comics are a collection of autobiographical stories from my life. I started this process in 2006 during a tumultuous break-up and I can't seem to shake the habit. Hopefully, you'll find them to be humorous, self-effacing, awkward, funny, uncomfortable and humiliating (for both you and me).
I love how your comics take these complex emotions and distill them into funny and sad little parables. The way you say you don't want the spider to die and then, seven panels later, you're squashing it? Wow. There's never a wasted panel or extra bit of dialogue in your work. They're like poems.
ReplyDeleteI affascian your work more and more, you're capable!
ReplyDeletewut?
DeleteOoph... I read this this morning and felt it pretty good then, but then later today I remembered something similar I did when I was a kid. When I was pretty little, in the summers, I used to catch crawdads and keep them while I was camping with my family, though when we'd leave I think we usually set them all free. They really fascinated me.
ReplyDeleteWe caught a really big one one time, but it had this weird like cancer on it. It wasn't huge, but it was noticeable. It grossed me out and we kept talking about it, so I decided it was going to die anyway and threw it into the campfire. As soon as I did it I regretted it. Who knows what it was? It might have just been an injury that healed weird. Either way, it didn't want to die.
Why did I kill it? And in such an awful way?
My grandma told me that she was disappointed in me for doing it and I've felt guilty about it ever since. Ooph.
Eat the Babies! - a webcomic
Great story. Thanks for sharing. Perhaps these scenarios and the subsequent guilt is what helps us develop compassion for life.
DeleteWell John, you know your site reached more fame when the spammers show up. ;)
ReplyDeleteBut you might want to delete this above comment anyway.
Trying to put myself in your shoes, I think the human impulse to capture/control a special item (the spider) runs contradictory to feelings of giving another object freedom/respect, creating intense ambivalence. These feelings might be the most intense when the spider runs away and control is being lost. Unfortunately, one way to resolve these conflicting emotions is to *terminate* the source of the feelings.
ReplyDeleteGreat reading your post
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