Little Gardens for Invalids

Leafing through old notebooks. Kinda feel like this today.

hey y’all!

here’s a little illo i did for Static Zine’s North by Northeast issue!  the little person wearing glasses looks like my partner, and the little person with the ponytail is just a regular lookin’ white lady, i guess. 

this was super fun to do, because i friggin love paper dolls and all things paper-doll related! you should totally pick up the latest issue of Static Zine so you can read the accompanying article and all the other amazing stuff the Statickers write.

xo! 

Torontonians, y’all should come out to this killer afternoon event. My friend Dave Cave (of the zine Everybody Moon Jump) is launching his newest zine, entitled “How Many Pictures Of Dicks Do I Have To Look At Before I Stop Wanting To Look At Pictures Of Dicks?”, which I believe is going to be an effing tour-de-force.

It’s about gay porn, bee tee dubs.

I’m going to be doin’ support reading (kind of like an opening act) alongside my pal Maranda Elizabeth (of the zines Telegram and Little Acorns ). I will probably try to be way funnier than I am, because Dave is a comedian and I totally want to impress him.

When you’re sick and you think you might be getting bad news, it’s amazing what you can convince yourself not to do. Truly amazing.

I talked to A. about this last night, in pain and teary-eyed, and he said, super gently, “Stop putting your life on hold. There’s no reason for you to stop drawing, to stop creating.”

What a freaking revelation, seriously. I think I’ve been actively denying myself my normal coping mechanisms (drawing, writing, talking to long-distance pals) because I’ve been all, “Oh, I’ll just wait until after I get my diagnosis.” Don’t ask me why this made/makes sense, because I just don’t know.

So, yep. Gonna try to keep holding myself accountable and responsible for my actions and not writing everything off just because I’m a sicky. Feel free to hold me to that.

(Above: Itty-bitty linocuts I did a coupla months ago. Pen, scissors, glue: holy trinity of zinesters everywhere.)

So, this “tiny hiatus” might become less-than-tiny. It’s nothing to worry about - at least, not yet - but my health is getting a little worse, and I need to spend every not-working minute practicing intense self-care. Basically, there is something wrong with my spine/spinal cord, and unfortunately the first run of tests haven’t given my medical team any answers. I’m still waiting for an MRI which will hopefully point me towards recovery. For now, here’s a little picture i made last night. I think it’s the most accurate self-portrait I’ve ever done.

Day Sixteen: Something That Represents Your Favourite Song.

I don’t know if Birdhouse in Your Soul by They Might Be Giants is my -favourite- song, per se, but I do really love it, and I’ve wanted to do a lil painting of this for awhile. 

Blue canary in the outlet by the lightswitch! Who watches over yooooou! 

Funny story: for the longest time, A. thought the song went “You can hear him in the oven by the lightswitch/who watches over you”. 

Eventually I’ll make a rill nice version of this to tattoo on my right thigh. Aw yiss! 

Day Eleven: An Inanimate Object.

Or in this case, six inanimate objects. Pretty self-explanatory! Work keys on the left, home keys on the right. 

A little anecdote: I’ve worked at my current workplace in some regard (mostly, part-time casual) for almost 5 years. It was only last year that I received the coveted bathroom key! All the bathrooms are locked (which infuriates me), so I always had to use a key attached to a stick that the clinical receptionists keep at the front desk. It was often missing, or if someone took it, it meant that only one person at a time could use the toilets, even though it’s got five stalls. SO INEFFICIENT! Anyway, my bitching and complaining finally paid off last May and I was given a manager’s key after he resigned. I actually let out a victory cry.

i can already smell the hatemail and slanderous re-blogs, but what-ev-er. haters gonna hate, fatties gonna fat!

one of the best ways for me to practice radical self-love is to draw pictures of my fine fat ass. seriously! i’ve read a lot about/seen a lot of folks who do photographic self-portraiture to the same ends, and i think that rules. for me, it’s gotta be drawing, because i’m happiest with a pen in hand.

(by the way, the banner quote is from an amazing parks and rec gif. yeah, i quoted a gif.)

Cover for my upcoming zine about weight! More specifically, it is about my partner’s and my experience with weight - even more specifically, about the politics of gender and weight, and of race and weight. And race and weight and gender. YOU KNOW!

It’s going to be mostly text, but with lovely little illustrations (tooting my own horn). It’s all my writing, but includes several interviews with my partner, A., plus just a tonne of creative input/conceptualizing from him (he asked if we could do that instead of him writing). So it’s totally collaborative and he will get a writing credit. I love working with him - he always has the best/funniest ideas. For instance, I sarcastically/goofily said “Let’s call it Fatty Fatty Boombalatty!” and he insisted we did for serious.

It is friggin incredible to have a partner who is always open to discussions about gender and race and class and body issues. He’s not afraid to call me out when I say or do something inadvertently racist/take my white privilege for granted, and gracefully accepts my critical input about his gender privilege. We also are super silly together and mostly just make butt jokes…we’re not uber intellects or anything.