Days Ago, I Was Struck With A Vision.

Days ago, I was struck with a vision.

What if an immortal man watched over his family, and took it very seriously that he was the family Grandpa. Full #1 Grandpa gear, including custom socks and sandals.

Then in a fugue state, I brought him into the world.

Not pictured: The #1 Grandpa stitching on his belt (too small, too lazy); the #1 Grandpa keychain; the wallet full of grandkid pictures that's so stuffed that the string of photos rolls across the floor and out the door; and the lovingly handmade #1 Grandpa pillows and blanket proudly displayed on the couch (too lazy to draw so you'll just have to imagine it).

Maybe someday I'll put more than five minutes worth of effort into it but for now, here he is.

This is the only response I'll give from now on when people ask what my sexuality is

“Are you the witch who turned eleven princes into swans?”

The old woman stared at the figure on the front step of her cottage and considered her options. It was the kind of question usually backed up by a mob with meaningful torches, and it was the kind of question she tried to avoid.

Coming from a single dusty, tired housewife, it should’ve held no terrors.

“You a cop?”

The housewife twisted the hem of her apron. “No,” she muttered. “I’m a swan.”

A raven croaked somewhere in the woods. Wind whispered in the autumn leaves.

Then: “I think I can guess,” the old woman said slowly. “Husband stole your swan skin and forced you to marry him?”

A nod.

“And you can’t turn back into a swan until you find your skin again.”

A nod.

“But I reckon he’s hidden it, or burned it, or keeps it locked up so you can’t touch it.”

A tiny, miserable nod.

“And then you hear that old Granny Rothbart who lives out in the woods is really a batty old witch whose father taught her how to turn princes into swans,” the old woman sighed. “And you think, ‘Hey, stuff the old skin, I can just turn into a swan again this way.’

“But even if that was true – which I haven’t said if it is or if it isn’t – I’d say that I can only do it to make people miserable. I’m an awful person. I can’t do it out of the goodness of my heart. I have no goodness. I can’t use magic to make you feel better. I only wish I could.”

Another pause. “If I was a witch,” she added.

The housewife chewed the inside of her cheek. Then she drew herself up and, for the first time, looked the old woman in the eyes.

“Can you do it to make my husband miserable?”

The old woman considered her options. Then she pulled the wand out from the umbrella stand by the door. It was long, and silver, and a tiny glass swan with open wings stood perched on the tip.

“I can work with that,” said the witch.

Dracula and Jonathan’s Tango - from The Polish National Opera production of ‘Dracula’.

With Choreography by Krzysztof Pastor and Music by Wojciech Kilar.

You can be depressed and not feel sad or blue. Depression can also be a haze of sleepiness, distractedness/obsessiveness cycles, and a twinge of irritability that can be hard to recognize because you might already be a “fiery” person. It can feel like a lazy Sunday that keeps imposing itself for weeks or months.

Pen and paper art is so frustrating after I spent my whole life watching people do digital art.

Like, what do you mean I can't just switch layers on a sheet of paper and fix the hand I drew on backwards

Now my sexy demonic witch dragon lady has a giant backwards hand

I hate it here