I see you I see you not both of us common daisies day eyes closed at night perennial herbs creeping under the covers while the whole wide world ties cords in knots we see one another we see our cans and our cannots.
You can subscribe to “Laconic Cartoons,” which promises to be fun, free, with no ads, and no AI! If you do subscribe, you’ll get an email with each new cartoon I post. So a subscription keeps up-to-date. The cartoons will go directly to your inbox, where you can view them, delete them, or print one and tape it to your icebox! Or you can visit Laconic Cartoons at the Substack website anytime you’re looking for a smile.
There won’t be much to read – explains the “Laconic” in the title. Of course, cartoons are noted, even with captions, for using few words – short, economical, crisp. So maybe the title, “Laconic Cartoons” with subtitle “simple doodles with few words,” is superfluous, but that’s what doodles are, and gratuitous. And doodles are spontaneous, improvisational, which is something you can’t quite aim for. A good cartoon is thrifty. Like this one:
Substacking: Messing around with Substack again. Tried out songs with video (which I ended up using here in post previous to this one), deleted the songs (“More Modern Songs”) substack, started a poetry substack, deleted that one too, settled on cartoons. “Laconic Cartoons: simple doodles with few words.”
Substack format seems busier than when I previously gave it a trial go. More social media characteristics. “Notes” page, for example, that seems to work like the old bluebird site (see cartoon, “This Bird has flown”).
Listened to a short podcast this morning on a cartoonist’s substack I’m following. Two and a half minutes in which she reads all the captions from the cartoons in this week’s New Yorker. It’s Liza Donnelly, who is herself a New Yorker cartoonist. Clever idea, captions without the drawings. Sounded like a John Ashbery poem as the captions ran together randomly as if they were connected by some logical narrative thread. Flight of the bumblebee. I was going to leave Liza a comment, only to find I couldn’t – only paying subscribers can comment on Liza’s substack. Clever idea that, too. And there were two captionless cartoons in the issue, which of course she could not read, but I was reminded of John Cage’s 4’33.
“Laconic Cartoons” has no paying option, and no plans of such. All free, and feel free to comment, such as, “Dude, seriously? You can’t give these away!” Something like that.
Decluttering: Have now filled a dozen grocery bags with books, eliminating the need for several bookcases. Vietnam Veterans will pick them up, along with some cool items recently discovered in the basement. What books did I keep? Might want to save that for a future post.
Guitar: Working on more original songs. “More Modern Songs”: that title, btw, suggested from Dylan’s latest book. Planning more videos. Had not tried to post a video on WordPress before. Easy. Songs are different from poems. Though you can usually read a song a lot quicker than you can listen to it, but you can listen to music while doing other things, though vacuuming the living room presents challenges, while poems should be read aloud to achieve their full flavor.
Cartooning: Here’s a cartoon (captionless) for readers unwanting or unable to visit the Laconic Cartoons substack:
At the mall I walk thru glass and almost fall trip boarding an escalator in the book store, my feet not quite aligned to alight gracefully.
I pass a lady who looks lost and a mannequin just found her head squeezed dahlia pops at the top of a pair of stylized skinny jeans.
I walk through sounds smelly perfumes, anonymous noise guy in uniform and money bag reading a mall directory two robots pass by glistening.
Old guy sitting in food court selling postcard size drawings on his face a weathered frown lady in front of me at coffee cafe dabbing red stained tissue on arm.
Janitor pushing cleaning cart picking up fallings the mall as clean as a movie screen playing Logan’s Run (1976) countryside bubble malls.
I study a few of the other people at the mall and try to see us as others might see us in the mall season reasons even Mr. Mall forgets.
I pause in a general sitting area and pull out my cell phone and work on a few comics then the cell rings and it’s time to meet back up.
The Universe is useless without us and these songs and poems the sober calm voice of a turtle the trills of the song sparrow the sweeping tones of the blue whale tunneling through the sea.
When are we going home, our space suits covered with dark matter and such truck one picks up living on the road, sleeping in train depot motels out along the Milky Way walking, waiting.
The Universe is nothing outside thumbs hitchhiking backwards what we see when we look out into the light switches on and off and all along the potholed road ramshackled machines sit idle.
The Coming of the Toads 