44 Cats and Kittens for BF magazine wip. And some may’s thoughts.

These are just some sketches i did when i was on the subway or on the bus with a common, half-broken pen.

This month i have to draw 44 cats for the music magazine. It’s the n° 44 … and in Italy we have this old song (sang on tv for the first time in 1968) that children usually still sing today. It’s the story of “44 cats without owners, that decided to have a meeting into a basement of a building; talking to decide what their destiny was going to be..  *music* 44 cats in 6 rows and 2 remains they were walking so close in 6 rows, their queues twisted one another… ” the song continues. This old song remains because it’s a very nice way to teach children how to remember the multiplication table. I wonder if in your country you also have similar songs. Feel free to share them, i’m very curious!
Drawing with a bic was at the first time very stressing. I do not like the way i draw… I don’t feel at ease when i know i can’t use my rubber, when i can’t go back. A nice analogy for life, isn’t it? I always wish to have more self-confidence. I am starting developing a mature self-confidence when i write, which is actually a very intimate and particular self-criticism.. But when i draw, i must say i’m still a very very big newb. A kind of tourist. Plus, people in the milieu of European comics tend sometimes to be very arrogant. The most unreasonable thing about this arrogance comes from a series of cultural discords… ignorance, a strange sadism that i really can’t handle sometimes. But the biggest arrogance do not come fom the teachers or the professionists:

The worst arrogant behavior comes from the other students. Sometimes i really feel their thoughts “you are a woman, you are old… where do you think you can go with your 27 years, with your terrible drawings, full of mistakes… c’mon get out from here… ya’ stealing my f***ing air bitch”. In the south of Italy you really still find guys that think like an old man of the XIX century. So you see, here they are, smiling at you, forcing themselves… wondering why i am not pregnant with already 2 children. we’re in 2013. And maybe i’m hopeless with my drawings… but they’re Hopeless as persons.                             Hopeless.           Hopeless.

This is one big reason i am really contemplating the fact of coming back to France, and live there definitely. I can’t stand no longer this guys. I feel a strong pressure.. i feel i’m too different sometimes, and when i’m in Rome, i become a real inconvenient outsider. I am starting now, at 27, to understand what being different means.

Sometimes i stay sat in the darkness, listening to some jazz. Feeling the joy of the music, and feeling at the same time deeply alone.

I never felt so uncertain.

So insecure. I really have no idea of what i am going to do.

May life always treat you gently.

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