112: When Spoing is Lost


Bunson Hoppydew sits sadly by himself. Bunson: I’ve lost my spoing Bunson sits sadly, ears drooping. Buson looks down Bunson looks up and to the left. Bunson looks to the right. Bunson’s still sitting with his ears drooping, but he’s smiling. Bunson: But I’ll find it again.

100: Practice

Zomg! 100th comic!! It’s kinda exciting, kinda strange to think so much time has passed, so many comics have happened, and hopefully this is just the start of the journey for the things. I tried do a big elaborate pinup plus process video for the 100th comic, but software crashed and deleted my process scribbles, plus random layers, and I wasn’t happy with how anything turned out anyway. Today as I was walking to breakfast with my sweetie I found myself thinking about practice, practice in many different parts of my life and how much I struggle sticking to a practice schedule… I struggle and I could say I suck, but then I thought about all the practice schedules I have stuck with, especially the ones with external motivators. I thought about what Chip Delaney said in one of his essays somewhere, we are what we practice. Practice is so hard and practice in one thing builds practice muscles for other things… And so I came up with today’s comic. The Things have been an ongoing practice for many months (a year come the end of June). I have not always practiced them consistently, but I try. I’m learning to build my rhythm, learning to be ok with not being perfect, learning to sit with the knowledge that maybe none of my comics will be as good as some of my early comics like Belief or Bad or Thinking or Vulnerable, but if I keep creating who knows what other surprises will come round the corner… I didn’t know those comics were coming to me until they happened, so I just have to keep going and keep discovering and keep wondering what the Things will teach me next. Thank you for helping me in my practice, may you travel well in yours.


Thing 2: I’m going to practice! Thing 1: Practice what? Thing 2: Practicing Thing 2: it’s really hard Thing 1: I admire you

88: more feelings


Thing 1: so Thing 1: so Thing 1: so Things cries a little Thing 1: so Thing 1 and Thing 2 hug Thing 1: happy

61: Wasted Hugs?


Thing 1 and 2 are hanging out togeher. Thing 1: I didn’t earn those hugs Thing 1: I licked the electric fence I wasted those hugs They look at each other. The two Things head boop. Thing 2: I like hugging you

50: Sleep


Thing 1: zzz Thing 2: I can’t sleep Thing 1: zzz Thing 2: I’m too sad too worried too grumpy too stupid too lazy too tired + not enough Thing 1: zzz Thing 2: Things I have done + haven’t done I don’t know what to do Thing 1: zzzz Thing 1 snuggles onto Thing 2 in its sleep. Thing 2 smiles.

42: We like you

The Things are pretty good at vulnerability and yesterday I wrote a letter to them. Ze’s lovely song of acceptance has earwormed me thoroughly and last night the Things and I made this:
The words are ze’s. I’ve lost most of my graphics software, but my hope is that one day this shall be an animated giff.

Dear Things

Thank you for being in my life. You’ve only been in my life for a few months, but you are very special to me. I’ve been sitting for a while in the hot LA sun trying to figure out what to say. And describe what you mean to me and why I like you so much. But when I try to put words and labels on to you they don’t seem to fit. The words are too complicated or cloying or lacking magic. I thought and struggled some more and I figured something out. Well, actually Ze Frank helped me figure something out. Dear Things, you don’t carry shame. Shame that slowly steel the stars, creeping up like pollution and city lights. Stars diminishing in number, the weakest lights smothered first, then a narrowing field of the brightest lights, and maybe the smog will take them too. Things, you don’t carry shame. Sometimes you feel guilt, but that is different. Sometimes guilt can face the risk of turning into shame and presses against you, but it is a puzzling thing to be looked at, to be asked questions, treated firmly and kindly and put down. There is no shame in worry, no shame in vulnerability, just an open, natural questioning. For you, shame is not a natural piece of star stealing virtue. Even shame is something you look at without shame. You are curious and kind. You are what I aspire to be. Wrote the heart of this when I was in LA, sitting on my suitcase while waiting for a store to open. This is the post by Ze Frank that inspired me.
I like you. PS: It stunned me when he said check out Brene Brown. By that time I already knew that I wanted to write this letter. We both like Brene Brown this is Things being vulnerable and my shout out to her.