hourly comics day 2022

Hourly Comics Day is an annual comics event on the first day of February where a bunch of cartoonists make journal comics about what they got up to each hour of the day. I love it. It’s the most wonderful time of the year!

2022 was a bit of a challenge to turn into a story because I took my public holiday (from working through January 26) with the plan of working on my graphic novel all day… which turned out to be not what I got to do.

  • Comic reads: it didn’t get below 25 degrees all night. I check my phone at 4am, disgruntled. Then, 5am, Peony, a cat, wakes us up. “No,” “why!” And at 6am, then her brother. He’s a small black cat who says, “wrow? Wrow?” Over and over. 7am: Gideon, the third cat, elects to cuddle. I say, “aw, hey bud,” while reading tweets. Then I feed the cats (“wrow, wrow, wrow,” “yeah, I know,”) and coffee and cereal while I think, “I feel like I’m forgetting something today.”
  • 8am, Charlie has to go to work. He says, “have a good hourly comics day” and I say “you, too.” He says “mean!! I don’t get the day off” while his shirt reads, “I’d rather be playing God of War (2018).” Sorry, Charlie. I took my spare public holiday today so I could work on my book… (the colours of the comic inverse, so I’m white lines on a black background). “Oh my god. I forgot to do the acquittal for my book grant.” Shower, while thinking “oh no oh no” while surrounded by the creative Victoria logo. Then the same spiral while watering the plants. But Josie, our neighbour, says: you need to pick the tomatoes!” I say, “you’re right.” Josie: “get a bowl!” And there is neighbour gossip while I pick tomatoes.
  • 10am, hourlies on the couch. “Hmm.” I am thinking if I can make these into a zine for Festival of the Photocopier. 11am, hourlies, but now more ergonomically at my desk. And then, with inverted black and white again, I internally scream over the text of my grant acquittal as I work at the computer. 12 pm, the same, until—“oh. Time to go for lunch.” I go to meet Laura and Isy. Laura is a wheelchair user who is wearing a dress. Isy is walking and has thick curly hair.
  • Heading to lunch, Laura says “what have you been reading?” and I launch into a long winded spiel that isn’t written out in its entirety as she and Isy listen. I pause. My friends are very patient with me. Over lunch we talk about houses and family and work, and then I sneakily pay for all our food while my friends are distracted. On learning what I’ve done, Laura yells “ableist!” and chases me down with turbo mode on her new powerchair. I go from laughing to saying “oh shit!!”
  • 3pm, we all have a calming cup of tea. Then Laura has to go back to work, and I say “I should go work on my grant.” Isy says “of course”… and then we talk for an hour about fiction. At 5pm, worrying about my grant acquittal, I walk home to a podcast, pausing only for a quick pasta purchase. 6pm hourlies, and then… black and white inverse. I scream internally and say, “these questions don’t apply to me!”
  • Tweet for help. “How do I answer questions like ‘how many people showed up’ help me.” Then I eat some chips for strengths and feed the cats, stewing: “man, I haven’t gotten to work on my book at all today because of this gosh dang grant acquittal,” Black and white inverses again. ???pm. Maybe food helped. I type furiously while my third eye opens, and then note, “also, emotionally, I have just given up.” I balance the budget. Then, declaring “I am! Spiritually depleted!” I hit send. I flop forwards on my desk, radiating a black cloud, as I receive the confirmation email.
  • 7:30 pm, Charlie is home. A cat meows offscreen as I say, “he’s lying! I fed em!” And Charlie leans into the room to say, “how was your day?” My third eye comes back and I issue a black cloud. 8pm, we eat pasta and watch the main character of Pushing Daisies, Lee Pace’s eyebrows. Then, 9pm. “it’s time!” Charlie says, game controller in hand, as his shirt reads “I am currently playing God of War 2018.” He cackles on top of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, the top of which reads “god of war 2018.” I reflect, “I love to see a boy boss winning.”
  • Charlie is in Gideon’s evening couch spot. The black cat glowers at him. 10pm: the bad night’s sleep is catching up with me. I write alt text on my iPad, grumpily. My iPad says “low power” and I say “me too, iPad. Me too.” Time to read a book in bed. I chortle delightedly as I read Gap Year in Ghost Town. Then, at 11pm, with absolute horror, I realise I’ve spelt acquittal wrong for my entire day……….. Time for bed. Good night!

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