Roses Are Read- Poundcake

Occasionally I do illustrated blog posts in addition to my comics. Some of them are about specific comic strips— like this one, and some of them (see: Mothothers) are not.

I call my comic strip

so naturally I HAD to call my blog    

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My Patreon structure…

rewards patrons of $30 a month or more with guaranteed comics starring themselves from time to time. All patrons have the chance of being featured in comics, like this one. But it’s part of my incentive that people pledging at very-incredibly-generous amounts get guaranteed comic strip stardom.

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This particular comic is for a dear friend of mine.

We shall refer to her as, A.

True, I haven’t actually seen her in years.

True, I do not initiate conversations with her as frequently as I ought.

But we went to college together. It’s a bondage bonding thing that happens at that age I think.

typo comic here

People who stick with you during formative and/or messy years kinda stick with you for life.

A is one of those people.

See, long ago. We’re talking more than a decade. A and I went to this graphic arts college. My psyche was not exactly a fortress in those days. I had a lot of emotional turmoil. A lot of unaddressed pain that I channeled into partying, psychotic-dieting, and chasing after horrible dudes.

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A lived across the street from me

in the slightly nicer apartment complex, and frequently saved me from myself.

A had her own troubles in those days too. I think ill-advised eating habits, poor choice in men, and a blatant disregard for liver-health is somewhat ubiquitous among a lot of young women.

A kind of took care of me. She bought me food, participated right along with some of my most bizarre humor, and was 100% nontoxic. And I know I am not the only person who remembers that toxic people were rife AF in the SF bay area in the early-mid 2000s. I would like to think A garnered some form of comfort from having me around too. Even if it was only to feel better about herself by comparison.

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A didn’t like me much when we first met

She thought my fashion sense was atrocious. And she was correct.

I am not ashamed to admit that I did, and still do, just LOVE tacky clothes. But my penchant for tackiness grew on her eventually.

And A will be ecstatic to know I still have the metallic faux-snakeskin jacket. I wore it less than a week ago, because I don’t have a raincoat. Although admittedly it’s a bit snug on me these days. That’s ’cause I no longer engage in “d-dieting”.

Anyway, she shared the poundcake story with me and I knew it needed to be immortalized in comic strip form.

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P.S. I still use the pink brita she bought me.

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P.P.S. if you want to become a patron, go here.