hourly comic day

this is a mad sprint; my entire waking period, delineated into sixty-minute chunks, feels simultaneously epic and also trivial. each moment i experience, i think about if i can express it in a few quick scribbles; every hour i finish, i feel pressed towards the next one.

this is a silly tradition. my fingers feel rusty every time i try to draw, and there is a peak mid-day when it seems like its going well, and a drop off in the evening when i'm running out of juice.

this is something i enjoy, i tell myself, and feel strangely about the additional self-imposed constraint of writing a post every day. draw every hour. zine every month. is this how i want to live?

yes, i tell myself. i'm making progress. i'm proving i exist.

i don't know if i want to prove that i exist.

01 February 2018 21:37

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