anchored wanderer


Would you have stayed
If I had listened to you
When you begged me not to leave
When you begged me not to

Been a year since last June
Echoes of twilight
Float through the window every night
They sound like loved ones
Long passed, Long gone
Long passed, long gone

Still the walls stand
Built on a foundation of sand
Nobody gets in
Nobody gets out
I’m one man in a love seat
Staring at the indent you left
My anchor is gone
I’m wandering without you
I’m always wondering about you


There is a crushing feeling against my chest that I can no longer suppress
Like an anchor pressing against my lungs, leaving no room for breath
It’s funny how no one questions when you are drowning,
But even scarier still how people don’t believe it until they can physically see you gasping for air
”It’s all in your head.”
How many masks left to wear until the soul feels satisfied
How many more times do I need to fake normalcy until it actually feels right
How many more times should I seek an escape from reality until I can finally live in it without feeling like an anomaly
How many more times must I drown before people are convinced I cannot breathe
Withering away before them, and they cannot see

Watching the SDCC Wander Over Yonder panel from 2014 (mainly to hear everyone Do the Voices, let’s be honest) and Craig just cited Krazy Kat as an influence. I’m so happy, because I’ve had that comic strip flitting in and out of my head this entire time. For many reasons–Krazy Kat is an enigmatic little character (his creator George Herriman described him as a “pixie” rather than a cat) who leads a roving, hoboish existence, offering kindness to everyone he encounters and returning the fury of a violent adversary with utterly sincere endearment. 

Plus, look, he plays a banjo!

There are other ways in which the comic strip puts me in mind of the cartoon–especially the roiling desertscapes which seem to predict the atmospheres of many of Wander’s planets–but most essentially I think it’s the notion, so central to the cartoon as an art form, that you can hang the world on a simple concept. Krazy Kat constantly encompasses comedy, poetry, philosophy and language–it counted E.E. Cummings, Frank Capra and Jack Kerouac among its fans–but the core story is always, always about a mouse throwing a brick at a lovesick cat. There’s a similar willful simplicity anchoring Wander, which is most essentially about an entity hellbent on loving the universe until it becomes a thing worth loving. No matter what else it delivers, it never fails to deliver the brick.