Kathleen Jacques

@kathmachine.bsky.social

I make a comic called Band Vs Band. Cartoonist, sapphic designer, friend to all cats, she/her. bvbcomix.com

One way in which reading about amusement park accidents is wild is that it feels roughly equally likely that your death will be attributed to something called like "The Demonscreamer", or "Alvin's Chipmunk Chaos Nutty Squeak O' Round"

blah, what a week. had to go home early from a nice trip to visit family because the cats were freaking out and wouldn’t take their medication. my sister (amazing) was able to go help out the cat sitter yesterday, so it’s sort of under control, but I couldn’t leave them like this several more days

Got stressed enough to start playing a bit of Stardew Valley again for some emergency chill, and...okay, the machines available for your barn feel like some duality of what Technology represents The Auto-Grabber...a fine and useful tool. The Auto-Petter? a cold dystopian mockery, I reject it.

lightly bracing myself for a day at work like coworkers: so, what did you do this weekend? we had a picnic on the beach making irreplaceable precious summer memories with friends and family me: (got PRETTY CLOSE to beating the secret boss in deltarune chapter 5, but it’s like really hard)

this reminds me a little of my favorite wrong number: years ago late at night: missed call, and a voicemail with no context saying call back. I called the number back out of curiosity, and got the automated general reception at a hospital. i googled the number and figured out it was the MORGUE

Well, fantastic, I just phoned UBC Hospital because I mistakenly got a text message about someone else’s MRI, and a nice person confirmed it was “their AI system” mixing up people’s health care card numbers

me: yeah, I used to be really clearly femme 4 femme and look like my own type, but while my attraction hasn't changed, I guess I'm more... futch?... now? how would you describe- leader of the group of mutated warrior women I just met in the wasteland of 2030: you here for Wife Tournament, or not

I have become weirdly fixated on the idea of finding the perfect little old CRT tv, like I need to rescue one of the last surviving magical creatures of a Past Age before they go extinct in the wild. and I know once I get one, it'll be like. okay. Now What? but it's fun to have a quest.

two nights in a row having surreal dreams about book design. first I was reading "the scariest horror story of all time" which was scary because the book itself was just really really large, and then for some reason I had made a special edition of my Band Vs Band Vol. 1 that was printed in mustard

had a scary flare up of symptoms this week, think I’m gonna be ok, but: ok, this is bullshit. I hate living in this terror zone with my body threatening to betray me. I hate cultivating a quiet inner resilience about this instead of just being a lil nerd goofing around drawing funny pictures!

Very specific gripe: man, does it bug me how the standard Well, Actually response to the phrase "drinking the Kool-Aid" is pointing out the poison drink at Jonestown was actually "Flavor-Aid" brand...when, more importantly, well, actually, a lot of them were forced to drink it against their will