cosmicturbulence

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A short comic I made about my experiences as a seasonal worker, and the way places change you.

Prints & PDF

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mircalla millarca carmilla

[ID: black and white digital fanart of carmilla from the novel by sheridan le fanu. wearing an 1860s style nightgown with her wavy hair loose, she stares steadily at the viewer. her eyes are red and her face, the front of her gown, and hands are all stained with blood. end ID]

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jisoupy

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being a marine science major like.

each day i feel worse and worse at the unimaginable scale of carnage that has been done to our oceans. i would die and kill to see them as they once were, before industrialization and colonization.

FISH!!!! :DDDDD!!!!

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how many bois will we find at the beach??? many echinoderm friends

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btw if you tell me something and i reply with “oh???” that’s the equivalent of a dog’s ears perking up

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everywhere in the world theres birds. and you should listen to them

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River Monsters

Prints

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You wouldn’t think that flamingoes are extremophiles just from looking at them. It’s like somebody tried to build the vertebrate equivalent of that fungus that lives inside nuclear reactors, and ended up with a gangly pink dinosaur with a spoon for a face.

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none of those words are in the epic of gilgamesh

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I drew a little something for the Hiveworks micro comic summer~

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i think humanity’s love affair with the sea is perhaps the sexiest thing about us 

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Two tiny shrimps battle each other on the back of a sea cucumber, filmed at a depth of 15m. Seacrop Diving School | Japan

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vintage pillow belonging to my mother that gets funnier the longer I look at it

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The Least Intimidating bakery in the village has closed for good so now I’ve got to go to the Intimidating Bakery, it’s awful. If you don’t have a PhD in being French I don’t recommend going to that bakery, here’s the humiliating account of the 3 times I’ve visited it so far:

the first time I went in there I pointed at one of those extra-skinny baguettes and said “a flute, please” feeling pretty sure of myself, and the baker said “… that’s a ficelle” (you idiot) (was implied) “a flute is twice as large as a baguette.”

That’s insane, first of all, a flute is a skinny instrument. Call your fat baguette a bassoon, lady—I made some timid remark about how it would make more sense for a flute to be a skinny bread and the baker said, “In Paris it is. I thought you were from the South?”

oh, that hurt

I guess I’m from the part of the South that’s so close to Italy the bread’s waist size matters less than whether it’s got olives in it, but I left the bakery having an existential crisis over whether living in Paris had made me forget my roots

the Least Intimidating Bakery just had normal baguettes vs. seedy baguettes vs. horny baguettes (easy mode, some have seeds, some have horns), while the new bakery has breads that are only different on a molecular level—there’s a good old loaf and then another, identical loaf called a bastard? google told me a bastard is “halfway between a baguette and a bread” but denouncing them like “those are not regulation-sized bastards” would get me banned from the bakery for life

on my 2nd visit (while I stood in line discreetly googling baguette terminology) there was an English tourist who asked for a baguette while pointing at what was either a rustique or a sesame and I felt a bit worried for them, but the baker just clarified “this one?” to waive any responsibility if they found out later it wasn’t a classic baguette, then handed them the bread without educating them in a judgmental tone and I felt envious

I know it’s because she thinks the English are beyond saving but still it made me want to come back with a fake moustache and an English accent so I wouldn’t be expected to play bakery on expert mode just because I’m French. I asked for a pastry this time and the baker asked “no bread with that?” which felt cruel, like she wanted me to sprinkle myself with ashes and admit out loud that my level of bread proficiency isn’t as advanced as I once believed it was

The third time I went, I had lost all self-confidence and I hesitantly pointed at a bread and said “I’d like this, uh—what is it called?” and the baker looked at me in disbelief and said “That’s a baguette.”

God.

for the record, if that stupid bread had been flanked by a skinny bread (ficelle) and a fat one (flute) then yeah of course I would have known to call it a baguette, but in the absence of reference points I now felt lost and scared of being called a Parisian again

it’s hard to express the depth of my suffering so I’ll just let the facts speak for themselves: this morning a French person (me) stood in a French bakery in France surrounded by French people and pointed at a baguette and said “what is this called”