Internet Anger and the Blessing of a Breeze
Man, being alive was a thrill this week. At my show last weekend I felt like I was walking around a river in a rainforest; this week brought the cold front to end all soupy skies. Timid sun and dry, dry air. The beginning of this new month brought everything that August does— tomatoes in the garden, dogs running in the creekbed, and a $250 electric bill.
I was having a good day on Monday, then decided to check on my student loan for some reason. To make sure it didn't just get up and walk away, I guess. In one of my many moments of pure genius, I decided to make a post on Threads— bitching about it. My first post in many months. It started taking off almost instantly; I was kind of proud in that hey, I've still got it kind of way. There are so many old men on the internet just waiting, foaming at the mouth to shit on posts about student loans. I was seriously cracking up at some of the hundreds of comments it was racking up over that day or two. I'm glad I was in a good mood, because some were very disparaging.
After that, I spent the week in a blackout haze drawing new work for some upcoming Autumn and Winter projects. I am incredibly excited about all of this. This year of my business has really felt like a process of settling; less about experimenting to figure out what works, and more falling into place and expanding upon what I know. Like how Corn nuzzles into my left arm on the couch at night. I feel so much more confident in art I am making and the stories I am telling. It is an intensely gratifying process.
To end things off today, this stunning Sunday, Josh and I decided to relax with some cleaning and buttery brunch and flea market shopping and rose garden strolling. We brought slices of blueberry pie to our friends set up at the show because we couldn't stand the thought Katie's mother going a second longer without knowing the Dough Mama experience. (Katie— please don't tell her, but for the life of me I just cannot remember her name.) We played Kishi Bashi in Josh's ten year-old Prius and slurped cold brew tang from a bright yellow straw. We rolled all the windows down and played the music a little bit louder so it could stand a chance against the wind. The speakers crackled under the fight. Sun fried our little arm hairs and lapped up our energy like a dog. Josh is napping now. The lights are off and the fans are on and I am listening to bugs chitter in our backyard. This is the most beautiful summer I have ever known— even with the car crash and the identity theft. There is a feeling here, in my 24th year, that I'm not sure how to describe quite yet. But I know it is good.
A book that caught my eye in Clintonville Books. Surreal, messy life through risograph comics. Aptly titled.
Dough Mama's back patio. A little world of its own.
If you hadn't noticed, I've not done one of these before Weekly Bulletin. I've always wanted to. I think I just get overwhelmed by all there is to do. But that's the good of it, right? All the things in life we get to do. I'm gonna try to keep up with it. I love to write and keep you all posted, and I hope that maybe it can do some work in grounding me a bit too. A week looks a lot smaller— more manageable— when you tidy it up into a few hundred words.
July 28 – August 3, 2025.
