Pure GoldMoo! Moo! Now I want some hay!God’s Country
The neighbors are pretty friendly too.
Mr. Tibbs [I am friends with all 7,334 cats]Deez NutsVery personable chickens… except maybe for this guyIt’s a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood
Whilst cleaning one fine evening, I gazed beneath my stove and discovered a dead body! A. DEAD. MOUSE. BODY.
DUN-DUN-DUNNNNNNNNN
The scene was horrifying. I mean, what exactly happened here?! Why under the stove? Why under MY stove? Was it an accident? Murder? Suicide?
Whatever the circumstance, my house now has a GHOST MOUSE. As fate would have it, there were also LIVE mice. They were squatters and were pretty active squatters at that.
THIS is why “under MY stove”
It comes with the harvest-time territory: plow the fields, the mice find new digs. Not one of those 7,334 cats offered assistance. Immediately I researched “Mouse Landlord Rights: The Politics of Eviction” and found this:
The CaptSure Original Humane Mouse Traps, Easy to Set, Kids/Pets Safe, Reusable for Indoor/Outdoor use [take breath here] for Small Rodent/Voles/Hamsters/Moles Catcher That Works. 2 Pack (Small)
The following is no exaggeration:
And when I multiplied the above equation by 2?
MR. WHISKERS
MRS. WHISKERS
THE WHISKERS’ NEW RESIDENCE [I wave and yell, “Hi Mr. and Mrs. Whiskers!” Whenever I drive by. Don’t judge.]
To honor the dead Grampa Whiskers (?) [I am assuming he died of natural causes unless there was a hefty life insurance policy involved] I acquired this Grampa Whiskers (?) cast iron door stop memorial. Enjoy the bunny molt and chewed walls as well.
“Rural Home Security” is seen in the corner
SIX MONTHS LATER
The lights began flickering on and off. Sometimes they stayed off and I would have to go flip the circuit breaker to get them on again – only to have them flicker and go out once more. “Where is your circuit box?” I’m sure you’re asking. I am so glad you asked.
Ain’t that some bullsh*t?!
But I digress …
We all know what causes these flickering lights: GHOST MICE. Well, it just so happens I own a Ouija [an Ouija?] Board. For mice. I dialed up GHOST MOUSE.
“Mr. Ghost Mouse, are you flickering my lights?”
The room was silent as the planchette began to move! E-G-R-E-G-I-O-U-S At least I think that’s what it spelled out. The lights were flickering and Mice Ouija boards are really freaking small.
Egregious: “shocking” My god. A message from the beyond! FLICKERING LIGHTS / SHOCKING! Wait … I walked to the hardware store for a new switch and replaced it. And now all is well.
on top of MY stove
*This post is dedicated to one of my favorite comics illustrators, LIZ CLIMO:
I am suffering from existential Ennui. At least, I think I am. Or was. Surely, I will be some time in the near future. Just to be sure, I Googled it. The first hit was an article titled: “How to Tell Whether You’ve Got Angst, Ennui, or Weltschmerz.”
Well … “Why not all three?! I *am* an artist, after all. Weltschmerz – there’s a “Fred and Ethel” joke in there somewhere. Alas. (I give to all of you, a dark self-indulgent sigh).
Late at night, I tend to ruminate around in my head and get trapped in my thoughts. And in that 2:00 am alone-ness by the glow of my phone, I am usually surfing the more bizarre corners of the internet. Also, throw in some Pink Floyd to augment the trip. Everything needs a soundtrack.
Between ponderings of life’s meaninglessness, lack of motivation, and knowing I really should fold that laundry, I often wake the house with cackling laughter. Oddly, the dark humor of others’ presented in sardonic meme-form is some of the funniest brilliance I have found. The irony alone gives me the warm fuzzies.
It sure beats yelling at coworkers and/or openly weeping in a parking lot filled with vaping Karens in yoga pants. No offense if you are a vaping Karen in yoga pants – but COME ON.
Anyway, I thought I would share some of the memes that just did it for me.
Who asked ya?
My song list is titled “SUICIDAL DITTIES”
This one hangs above my desk.
HAHAHAHAHAHA
How would YOU color this?
Breathe.
Me.
Still laughing at this one.
Ok. Well, these are the ones that don’t have any swears. It turns out I severely limited my meme options for this particular blog. Is this a symbolic act of what I do to myself in life? (See what I did there?) I share all of the above to say this:
This week Regarding Comic is chronicling the existential crisis of Lance. It’s ok to laugh. ENJOY!
Where there is light, there must be shadow, where there is shadow there must be light. There is no shadow without light and no light without shadow …
― Haruki Murakami
When I was 17, my interest in symbolism caught fire. It began in a literature class when I studied Herman Melville’s Moby Dick. I ran the gamut of that study from Biblical symbolism to feminine symbolism. I’m not sure how my American Lit teacher felt about it, but I am proud to report that I received the only “A” in the history of that class for that project. ::takes an overachiever bow::
MOBY BUN
In college, I discovered the works of Carl Jung and the concept of the collective unconscious. (The idea that we are all connected through an invisible cosmic web – communicated via symbols).
AT PLAY IN THE COSMIC WEB
This is when I dove head-first down the rabbit hole (so to speak) of feminine symbolism and archetypal journeys. Archetypes are:
In the psychology of Carl Jung, archetypes are the images, patterns, and symbols that rise out of the collective unconscious and appear in dreams, mythology, and fairy tales.
dictionary.com
Jung believed that these symbols originated from when we crawled out of the primordial ooze. It is a beautifully romantic way to explain why so many cultures all over the world (who never had contact and were oceans apart) have the same images and characters and mythologies. To put it simply, we are all connected.
RAGING
Fast forward several years when I felt trapped in my life’s circumstance. We have all been there. If not, you are either young or very blessed. It was a place of frustration, agitation and it was a bit dark. At this same time, Honorable Daughter #1 began bringing rabbits home. She would rescue/steal/accept/smuggle them. She would nurse and care for the sick, groom them, rehome them. To this day she has the heart of a rescuer.
DEFEATED
Lance, Russette and Sammy were the three rabbits that I would not allow to leave. These three are affectionately known as “The Olde Guarde”.
I grew up in a farm community surrounded by all types of animals. My observations, even as a child, taught me that rabbits are animals of prey and behave accordingly. House rabbits, after having all those years of domestication, still behave as such. So there I was feeling trapped and frightened … with rabbits.
The following are basic definitions. They are moreso concepts based in an Aesop Fable (The Dog and the Wolf) sifted through my filters of feminine archetypal insanity (It’s my journey I can do what I want):
THE WILD – Freedom to be your true self. Living in the cover of the forest tapping into who you really are. The subconscious. This self allows you to set boundaries without guilt.
THE DOMESTIC – The comfort of shelter, food and the guides of social norms. In its ideal, it guarantees safety and healthy boundaries. The conscious mind.
Each, however, has its shadow:
THE WILD SHADOW – Hunted, hungry, darkness, fear, lost (yearning for the domestic)
THE DOMESTIC SHADOW – Caged, victimhood, dependent upon others for survival, the collar digging into the skin/complacency (yearning for the wild)
Our goal in living with these archetypes is to bring them together to find balance. In my opinion, in that balance, we find our “home.” It’s a lifelong journey and we all bounce around now and again. and again. and again. and yet again.
I could very well relate to the rabbits as prey animals. I also believe that this projection gave me an exceptionally strong bond to and with them.
The illustrated journey, unbeknownst to me at that time, of making peace with the WILD v DOMESTIC archetype began.
This was the birth of Raging Bunnies.
As I broke away from my situation and managed some self-examination, the bond with my rabbits evolved along with my art. I began to appreciate the rabbits’ gift of bringing laughter, absurdity and healing into my life. Regarding the Secret Life of Rabbits was born at this time. Then the characters in the comic started revealing themselves (and continue to do so).
THE FIRST COMIC
The comic offers humor even in strife. The process is very healing for me. The fact that others are interested in it is humbling. And the longer I do the comic, the more I reveal parts of myself.
Now, I stand in a visible (and quite public) duality. Wild (Raging) and Domestic (The Secret Life)
LilithRegarding The Secret Life Of Rabbits
Rabbits are timeless in their imagery. Not only are they recognized as symbols of fecundity and luck, but they are also symbols of the spirit world and rebirth; the eternal cycle of Life/Death/Life. Mortality and the hope for the eternal is a big theme in my Raging Bunnies artwork. Dark. Serious. Desperately attempting to preserve. It is an existential crisis in action.
Regarding the Secret Life of Rabbits shows the day-to-day, mundane, sometimes vulgar struggles but is always presented with the absurd. It offers a light-hearted look at life. I like that. And I will find something in every situation that makes me laugh (regardless of how inappropriate it may seem).
Together, you see my wild next to my domestic selves. One must always be able to express their wild. One must also realize boundaries are not always a bad thing. Reconciling the two brings peace. Through my work, I am “home.”
Sammy
I was asked to address the loss of Sammy. I have lost all three of my crew in the course of a year. They all lived long (and sometimes overfed) lives. Please know that The Olde Guarde lives on and always will. I even take offense when people refer to any of them in the past tense.
I honestly thought that when I lost Lance I would be devastated. He was my heart. Lance died in my arms and with his last breath I was, absolutely, devastated. Sammy was already in precarious health. He had horrific arthritis and was struggling but we were nursing him and loving him as always. The first night without Lance, he dragged himself over to Lance’s “spot” and just sat and groomed the floor. I witnessed him fade away. As you may, or may not, know – Sammy joined Lance within a month.
What I was not prepared for was how I felt at the time of Sammy’s departure. All of the Olde Guarde took on certain characteristics: Russette is a caretaker. She is curious and ornery but she is loving and slept at my feet. Lance is the wise protector standing guard by my bed and in the halls. Sammy, however – reflected some of my own neurosis and selfishness. It felt like I lost a part of my self.
When Sammy passed, I cradled him in my arms, turned into a corner and just wept; a painful ugly snot-filled cry. I would not let anyone touch him. Eventually, I was able to lay him down (still crying and petting him) for the Vet to take over. The experience was surreal.
Baskets are a womb symbol, a holder of life. They communicate spiritual joy and fulfillment. Baskets even sail saviors down rivers to be scooped up and adopted. Sammy loved his basket so much he ate half of it. This was his favorite spot.
