Apologies for the morning’s disappearing and reappearing posts: I fucked up the dates and my OCD wouldn’t allow me to leave them alone. All good. It’s 04 April. Did you know that? I clearly didn’t.
Cullen Bunn's INVASIVE joins the similarly otherwise excellent DEER EDITOR and OUR BONES DUST in ending in disappointment: like the other two, the ending wasn't bad, but felt rushed, as though everyone holds their breath after three issues and can only hold it for one more, maybe. I'm all for tight storytelling (and vehemently against unnecessary decompression) but this is a worrisome trend: seems especially prevalent in comics from smaller publishers (can we consider Image to be a small publisher?) and is undoubtedly at least partially a money issue though perhaps starting the story a little later might assuage the problem?
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Tornadoes and major storms missed us, though the rain was impressively torrential. To my relief, The Paintshop made it through with nary a minor or major flood.
Eyes have recovered, mostly, from the deer in headlights drops, last night being the most unenjoyable pizza ever though it was delicious: a mix of hypoglycemia (which, of course, became hyper– later, thanks, delicious pizza) and being literally blinded by the light. Collapsed to the floor (hypo) but at least the floor was cool and I felt better after a few minutes of laying there without anyone licking me or pawing at my face. No diabetic eye damage for another year, prescriptions unchanged, though it was time for a new face so I've got a new pair of spectacles on order. Going round.
Part of the week's big experiment with myself has been pushing my work times a bit later, allowing myself the freedom to not feel like I have to rush through everything to be available to people who no longer exist. Very act of doing so feels subversive and thrilling. Better late than never, I suppose.
