This morning I wrote a letter to an old friend. A real, physical letter.

I recently made a new change-purse for my pocket, because my previous one was starting to fall apart. For the outsides, I used two sample pieces for window-blinds. The zipper came from a bag of rice.

It feels so good to do real things.

Of course, now that’s being sold as a reaction to the predominance of digital life — a weird hybrid where one does analogue things in a performative way in order to then post pictures online of a superior wholesome offline lifestyle. (Which I suppose I’ve just done here.)

This is a confusing time.

Oh, and the rice bag? It became a dog toy/pillow filled with stuffing and various squeakers from dead toys. When Doug puts his head on it, it quacks like a duck.

It’s my dad’s birthday today. I think about him every day, but today… moreso.

At least he won’t be getting another disaster cake. That thing looked like a tire that’d been stuck in the mud — but it tasted good.

I stumbled across this the other day, the first picture taken of my dad.

I don’t know what he’s looking at, but I couldn’t help imagining he was staring off to the future, his whole life ahead of him. And now that story is finished, closed off.

Life is strange, and not altogether fair.

I love you, Dad, and I miss you.

I’ve roughed out the fourth chapter for my comic. It’s now running here on my web server, but for the time being I’m not saying where…

It’s not so much that I’m trying to build a buffer — I already know this thing will be updated very sporadically. It’s more that I want the reader to get a good sample of what I’m doing, rather than making up their mind on just a scene or two.

I switched pens when drawing in my diary comic book yesterday, which my gut told me was a mistake. Sure enough, my linework went all to hell — like tightrope walking in ice-skates.

Nobody else would or should care about this, but I’m self-conscious about how scratchy the drawings turned out.

Anyway, whatever. Here are those entries.

Last night I had Comics Club at my house. We talked about colouring in.

For a whole evening.

It was just Tyler, Christian, and me. I missed the others, but with such a small crowd I didn’t feel bad that we talked about this issue at such length, mainly for my benefit. And I came away (well, I was home, so I didn’t go anywhere) feeling like I’d just been through a crash college course about illustration.

The down-side is that I need to rework the colouring I’ve already done on my comic. (Oh yes, I haven’t yet properly announced that here — because it still isn’t ready to show!)

I want to keep moving forward, telling more of the stories that are rushing into my head. Of course, the whole thing is a learning experience, and I expect that my cartooning will evolve as I go along. I developed the first chapter, though, to be part of a publication for Comics Club, so this colour business will need to be sorted out for that.

The gist is that I started using all sorts of colours for my comic, just like I do in my Strategic Coach illustrations. While I think they look nice, each panel is a lot of work, which will hold me back from putting this thing out.

I’ve been reading a biography of Charles Schulz (which has me hooked, and is stretching my imagination of what comics can do — plus it’s quite frank about his anxieties, his competitiveness, and his selfish moments, too).

One thing that really strikes me, looking at the cartoons peppered throughout the book, is how beautifully economical they are. Schulz isn’t drawing in a ton of background detail because it would detract from what the characters are doing and saying.

Working on a full-colour panel, I now see after last night’s conversation, demands that I render everything in the scene (versus Schulz’s blank backgrounds). And because of all the colours, I’m having to create lots of separations and layers and stuff, and all this takes time.

A nice side-effect of reading about Schulz is that it’s looping me back to childhood, when I pored over his pages, looking at his linework. I didn’t much care for the characters — they’re always so mopey and mean, except for Snoopy and Woodstock — but those lines were a big influence on me.

I just stumbled across this video, which made me cry.

Hm, why is that? I think it’s because they’re both just so cute and vulnerable and human. They both clearly want a connection and understanding — which is what we all want, right?

Deaf Strangers’ Blind Date