aaaand we’re back

cup of coffee, blueberry/blackberry scone, jazz samba. it’s a fine day for starting again.
the hardest thing these days is turning off the urge to multitask. my brain running three or four processes at once has long been my m.o.; now i just want to practice being where i am.
i had given up and moved on. this blog was a rock in my mind that i was content to walk away from in favor of other projects, other mediums; sitting down at a computer and free-associating got old quick. i could never stop the urge to write entries based on preconceived titles, to fake some cheap and tired wisdom. that was what i expected of myself and the habit i’d built over time.
the tradeoff is scary: giving up what you know you can do for things you know you might be able to do, but not without a good deal of embarrassment and clumsiness and generally poor execution; the early steps of anything new. between that and the sheer ease with which i get distracted, the prospect of ‘making it’ as i’ve come to hold in my mind has looked grim. in my daily writing i’ve learned the value of pushing through hard spots and seen the satisfaction that comes from working through a cold start in spite of not wanting to. but multitasking, itself a minion of the Lord Trying Always To Be Elsewhere and Do More Than I Can In A Day, remains. my recent preoccupation – or sideways flight – into a game approach has yielded one definitive truth thus far: life does not resemble a game so much as an office job, where most of the time is unremarkable and repetitive. setting out first thing in the morning with goals like have an epic day are fun in theory but largely impossible to execute, and are rather exhausting to attempt anyway. working within smaller, mundane confines is our lot.
today was like any other day.
and then i checked achewood.
for the last several years chris onstad’s work on achewood has served as an example of what is possible in comics, both in terms of quality of writing and the endless possibilities of what can be said and done. over the course of nine years he produced an incredible variety of stories, in a manner that could perpetuate itself forever. the world of achewood was not limited by sequence or consistency or continuity, or any other marks of a small perspective. it simply went anywhere and everywhere, one small and absurd and wonderful step at a time.
last year, achewood began to slow and slow until it came to a full stop early this year. it seemed that onstad had broken down under the mental pressure of his legacy, that he had lost faith in his powers. in the dry month of january checking for new strips became more and more a futile act of self-deception. it was over. what hurt was not that it had ended, but that it had ended with its author in defeat. storylines lay open and unfinished, and there was not even a farewell-and-thank-you to signify that the end had come. just silence. it shouldn’t have ended like this, not after all this time.
i felt despondent; if the price of making something like achewood was the mental collapse of a man, what hope was there for the rest of us?
i was on the verge of composing a eulogy for the strip as one might do for a friend who died too soon; the energy of all the life they had still to live screaming out like a siren of all things wrong in the world. forever a bitter taste.
and then, today.
achewood has returned.
only time will tell if it regains its former speed and strength, but this much is certain: i could have asked for no better sign this morning that today, always today, is a fine day to start fresh, and make what was so wrong right again.


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