2787 It’s Called Hentai, And It’s Art.

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I’m not 100% sure if the idea of being ashamed of your art will make any sense in our modern, post shame, world. I feel like there must still be places that exist where shame functions the way I remember it as a child and I’m banking on some percentage of my audience being able to cast their minds back, back, back, to a time where shame was an effective means of control. About 5 years ago I reached a point where I found I really didn’t care all that much about what happened to me, and really embraced being the pile of garbage I am in a way I was never able too when I had a lot more hope. At that point the sting of shame was reduced to a point of near irrelevance. I truly realized that the world is controlled by soulless monsters and nothing I’m capable of doing even approaches the outer walls of evil those people are capable of, so why should I feel anything at all if I want to draw sexy catgirls eating cake all day? If I manage to get though a day without purposefully exploiting another sentient being I feel like I’m doing just fine really in the relativistic grand scheme of things. As someone bound by a sense of personal morality I’m always going to be fighting reality, the system, or whatever you want to call it, at a huge disadvantage.
I say this in a joking manner to one degree, or another, and I state that because it seems like a percentage of people who read my blogs simply think I 100% am being serious about everything I say all the time. Similar to how they think the characters in the comic are 100% truthful about what they say all the time. Everything and everyone is taken at face value all the time and I noticed it after all these long years a while back. I didn’t think to speak directly to them until now. Sometimes I just say things because it amuses me to say them. Sometimes a wrap my feelings in so many layers of irony even I am no longer sure what I actually believe or feel. Sometimes I operate at levels of self awareness that it seems like I have no concept of self at all. To a human with no capability to spot nuance that must be very confusing. Even that statement might well be taken as an affront, or attack, because the reader is trapped in a world where scratching the surface of a concept simply reveals more surface. It’s surface all the way down. How ironic it is that the very device I have used to make the comic for over a decade at this point is even named Surface. Surface Pro even. Why, if I were a superstitious sort I might even think that the world itself has been mocking my very existence with such blatant symbolism. I hope that whatever observer makes reality fall into line is getting a good laugh over all the humorous breadcrumbs they’ve placed in my life. If it’s the one that gives children cancer I’m sure their sense of humor is so far outside of what I can comprehend that I can only assume they’re getting a chuckle out of what daily struggles are.

Where does that leave everything? You know what? Let’s not worry about it. Maybe just looking at the surface is the better way to be. Black is black, white is white, and there isn’t billions of subtle levels of gray moving from one side to the other. There’s simply a comic, a reader, and a creator who wishes the reader a nice Wednesday. Perhaps, in this spirit of goodwill, the reader will take a moment to also observe the methods of support available to them and express their appreciation monetarily. Truly that would be divine, in the humble opinion of the creator. Even if this doesn’t happen I hope you remain safe until our paths cross again.