The Everett Herald is the closest print newspaper that’s running the strip right now (the Seattle Intelligencer has it, but they’re online only now). I believe their article is still forthcoming, but I did a special strip for them for having the courtesy to be not very far away:
There are a lot more articles actually (110 is a lot of publications), but most of them are written from the press release, rather than go to the trouble of interviewing me (but I used to be a reporter, so it’s cool, I know how it is).
Longtime fans know I’ve loved the Beatles practically my whole life. This is my favorite underrated Beatles song: “I’m Looking Through You,” from 1965′s Rubber Soul. (In my head a hear a saxophone part.)
By the way, you’re welcome for getting that song stuck in your head. Ha ha ha ha ha.
Ahem. Anyhow, my editor says I can tell you this: MARCH 30! That is the date that “Phoebe and Her Unicorn” hits newspapers. (If a paper has only bought the Sunday strips, as some do, the date is April 5.)
The last number I heard was 78 newspaper sales (the current number is probably higher), which is a very good number I’m told, and we’re in some pretty cool markets, too. (I don’t know the full list, but watch this space for more information–and if we’re not in your local paper, I encourage you to start bothering them until they fix that.)
So we’re six weeks out. And the reason the online strip is in reruns right now is that I’m building up a backlog for the print strip. I’ll try and get something original out in the next six weeks, but the launch is the priority right now. It’s what I’ve been working toward for the past decade and a half.
I feel like saying “my cat died this week” doesn’t capture it.
It’s an accurate description, but it seems so sterile and matter-of-fact. A cat I had adored for many happy years was taken from me by lymphoma this week.
Seriously, fuck you, cancer. Gladys was old, but she wasn’t that old–exactly 13 1/2, to the day, when she died, and lots of cats live years past that. It’s so unfair that she couldn’t.
But I loved her so much that the rest of my life wouldn’t have felt like long enough to have her near me.
I’d resumed the ritual of “Friday cat blogging” recently (using photos from before she got sick), even though I’m not an especially prolific blogger, because I was acutely aware she might not be around much longer, and I wanted to shout to the world about what a wonderful kitty she was, and how much I loved her, while she was here.
Of course, she had no idea. She had a tiny little kitty brain. “A tiny little spaceship head,” Nikki would say.