Finally kill the slimemold on the back wall with new gadget, a steam-cleaner. End up spattered with matter (though the wall looks good) and dripping water into the space under the sink where the packet of salt I keep for cold-dying has leaked all over an old paintbrush. Bleach, rust and salt dissolving the skin on my fingertips. What did I buy all that poster paint for? And when? In revenge, the doorlock sort-of breaks, leaving us sort-of anxious about being sort-of locked out. I tell the landlord, but you know how sort-of problems go ...
New-term return of novelty pajamas, new animated series, hangover television. Dick and Dom giving their occupations as flap-cracker and clock-hanger, racing live babies, children dressing up adults as robots and making them fight. Nanaimo back again; RE:Cleanskies Looking for love, not age pants ... funny girl seeks funny guy cracks. The day after I posted the nanaimo strip, I got five messages from it. The day after I post this the artwork gets taken out of the shopwindow. More random than cause and effect, more like making a slight dent in the fabric, that causality can run down ...
House-warming party at
jinty's too self-conscious to take out my crayons, feeling ugly, small, and very unimportant ... I'm snarling too much, I can't find that centre. The last few unfinished threads of C Evidence and Changeling 72 are prod-prod-prodding at me. Damian says I need something new in my procrastination chain, but I just want to finish. Note: the quote in this week's strip is by Aubrey Beardsley. Couldn't find a good reproduction of the picture online, this one will have to do.
