Uploading comics that first ran exclusively on Patreon. This was back in January, but whatevs, he’s still as Dave Gahan puts it, “a cunt”. http://www.patreon.com/jgonzalezblitz
Apologies to Matt Furie for my homage to Pepe The Frog, an originally very benign (if not too hygenic) comic character from his Boy’s Club series.
There’s also new exclusive content, for those who subscribe:
I like this one, it’s got that “doomsday with the one you love” feel
So I’m recovering from another couple of days of dizzying migraines…my contributor copies of the Prince Coloring Book came yesterday afternoon from Feral House! But when this happens I can’t sit upright more than 5 minutes at a time, more or less. Eric read the forward Darius James wrote to me. Above is the drawing I did for the book.
Between us, me and Eric might have about 8 or 9 “preexisting conditions” on that ridiculous list from the proposed new healthcare bill that would make things impossible for us. Including the one that’s not a medical condition but a felonious crime.
New weekly comic up! See it by pledging just $1 @ www.patreon.com/jgonzalezblitz
My current goal is to get a new comic up for $1 patrons weekly. They’ll be there before they’re anywhere else.
“Jolts” are another good word for them that aren’t entirely accurate. Those shocks of fuschia and yellow that grip me, putting every pore on needles and pins, making the air electric, sucking all sound into one all consuming sine wave . It’s horrible. It’s agitating. My body jerks and writhes trying to shake these attacks off. Sometimes I think only water will disperse them. Sometimes I think only dirt and nighttime will bury them.
Sneak peek panel of a secret comic over on my Patreon:
What does that much cartoon vomit mean? Unlock it and find out. Or read some older stuff that I’ve made public. Stuff’s gonna be going through Patreon first.
Today I’ve been mostly immobilized by migraines however. Still, Blessed Nuit/93
When I was a bit younger more uncertain and naive, there were women who came to the city and were my contemporaries or a little older who maneuvered the nighttime scenes with metaphoric knives out. Not everyone was this way, thankfully, but it was definitely a human trope. This type of person invariably fancied herself some newfangled combination of Dorothy Parker, Holly Golightly, and Edie Sedgwick.
Time marched on and began to bring a new kind of transplant with it, a bit more affluent but with the same type of attitude, only now they were fancying themselves, some newfangled combination of Carrie, Samantha, Sarah Jessica Parker, and hell-I-forget-the-other-one. But anyway, did I get less uncertain? Or did people’s New York City delusions just get less impressive?
When I could not think of anything to write about one night I stayed up until 5 in the morning making this, with nothing but recurring dreams I’ve had throughout my life of post apocalyptic landscapes where everyone had to breathe acrid poison air.