Quiet moment – Chapter 1, Strip 55

Mopey just wants to spend some quality time alone with her despair, but those Egyptian tombs are livelier places sometimes than most people would expect.

Yay! Up to now, I’ve had random gaps in the numbering of my comic strips at some places, and squeezed in extra strips at others, but today I finally managed to post strip 055 AFTER having posted 056 last Thursday. Which chronologically are numbers 57 and 58, anyway. No wonder I like the Three Stooges, I’m a moron, obviously.

When Mopey is in a romantic mood, I need lots of black for the strip.

God, I hate it when somebody interrupts my brooding and mopeing. I do it for a reason after all, how am I supposed to achieve the desired catharsic effect with people trying to cheer up? And then they complain that I’m in a bad mood all day, I would have been finished by 10 AM if they just had let me do my broodwork in peace. Oh, and another thing: When I’m brooding I’m brooding, I’m NOT ‘pouting’!

I needed some nice piece of stereotypically bad goth poetry for this strip, but, unstereotypically, no goth I know does any of that stuff. What are they thinking, why can’t they just show their rejection of societal expections in the way society expects them to? Well, so I had to try and come up with something myself, but my prosaic disposition made that turn out much badder than acceptable even for stereotypical goth poetry. Internet to the rescue, I thought, perhaps online I would be able to find something, or even some kind of goth poem generator.

I found three goth poetry generators on the first page of google results. You gotta love the internet. This here, in case you are interested, is the one I was most happy with, and which generated the poem I ended up using in the strip:
http://www.deadlounge.com/poetry/

But for the stalwart minds among you, and to show I don’t shy away from my fellow man’s ridicule, here’s the poem I did myself and discarded *blushes* :

Entombed alive, imprisoned eternally
in a love without hope…
How can a mortal heart contain the
despair of countless millenia spent
in vain pursuit of a lost dream
that should never have been dreamt ?
My senses waver at the touch of
eternity, the rythm of eaons….
Mere words fail me…

If you want to support my comic, please vote for me. If you want to support my poetry…you have a strange taste, ideed. Thanks for tuning in, on Thursday the action will start to heat up again.

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