On

This is a drawing of a person crawling out of a stack of oddly shaped pancakes lying on top of a mountain or a cliff somewhere. Maybe in Pennsylvania. I visited Pennsylvania one time and there were these really cool cliffs by a river and some train tracks. And I got to watch a bird fly in and out of clouds. That's probably what the guy in this drawing is doing. Watching birds. He seems really content in a simple way. He's not even bothered by the tentacles rising up behind him and even if he saw them I don't think he would consider their full implication, if there is any. 

I think it can be good to be unassuming. Sure, sometimes you'll miss things that appear obvious because you haven't considered alternative motives but it frees up space in your brain for doing nice things like checking on the progress of the plants in your flower bed or compulsively checking your phone while buying groceries. 

I don't think I fully understood when I used to write a lot on this blog how hard writing is. Writing is hard.

Anyway, so the guy is crawling out of the stack of pancakes, or maybe he's not even crawling out. Maybe he's just resting his upper body on them while looking at the birds and clouds.  And at this point, you can make the story about whatever you want. 

But, what I think happens, is the guy is resting there, relaxing, and then there's a flash thunderstorm and it starts to rain really hard and conditions become really treacherous. And the guy is panicking and he's really struck by how fragile his happiness is. Like in an instant it was all taken away from him and he didn't really have any say in the matter. He was enjoying his day, lounging in giant pancakes as one does in his native country, Pennsylvania, and now he's not sure if he can get down and he might get struck by lightning and the pancakes are getting soggy. Fortunately it's one of those storms that only last for about 10 minutes and once it passes the sun comes out again and it's a beautiful day just like it was and the birds are back and he can see the dark storm clouds receding into the distance. 

But now he can't throw himself into the weather the way he did before the storm came. He doesn't trust it. Underneath the warm, it's got a little bit of sting to it because it made him soft and vulnerable. So, what he does is he climbs off Pancake Mountain and he goes to a hardware store and he buys a can of spray paint and he finds an underpass by a Waffle House and he writes TURD in big red letters on the walls of this little tunnel. And that doesn't really make him feel better but it makes him feel more in control of whatever the feeling he has now.