Confessions of a Nose-Picking Lover by Ruoki (Mini Kus! #141)

Sure, Confessions of a Nose-Picking Lover is exactly what it purports to be, ostensibly about a person who delights in unabashedly digging for gold, with sickly yellows and reds in the art that almost revel in the booger-sugared (sometimes) bloody consistency. But, what the heck is really going on here? The actual message is that any (consenting) indulgence in life can be good, no matter how taboo it may be perceived to be by outsiders. Ruoki states that nose-picking elicits a “Zen-life flow state” rather than the “wild frenzy” of, say, an orgasm, because it’s a return to some primal satisfaction. When you’re into something so passionately, you should share your love of that thing with the world, do it in public, teach others how to do it, and build a community of like-minded individuals. Perhaps it’s no coincidence that as I write this review, I’m preparing to depart for WonderCon in Anaheim, California to table and promote a new project, and the thought occurred to me that nose-picking is fundamentally no different than making comics. Once shunned by society as a “low brow” art form or pastime, but capable of enjoying mainstream success with an influx of thousands to a plethora of annual conventions. The booger museum full of different specimens that the writer/artist imagines is little different than a Comic-Con, with diehards and civilians alike gawking at all the wares and indulging in their interests among their extended tribe. Ruoki bounces visually between more traditional panel to panel storytelling with vibrant colors, and some lovely rough-hewn black and white images with thicker bold lines, almost mirroring the more socially acceptable hobbies being in the colorful spotlight, with outliers on the fringe still peeking out from the shadows. The final page punctuates the book’s core message; we all have our own kink, be it sexual, bodily functions, the type of media we consume, or different hobbies and passions. In our own way, we are all “soothing the kitten inside our nostril.”

Accept by Andy Leuenberger (Mini Kus! #140)

Accept opens with urgency, using garish red and green and black and white colors reminiscent of Christmas that fluidly ebb and flow with power and balance. Leuenberger eschews the use of words in the story and showcases a playful format for the page layouts that have action extending beyond the confines of the panel borders, at times in an almost recursive grid. The vibe of the experimentation feels irreverent in the best way, not disrespectful or flaunting its abilities, but challenging the norms of what is possible in the medium. The two figures continue contending, eventually pulling back to reveal they’re playing a sort of 3-dimensional strategic simulation game, and I was so pleasantly surprised to see 24 panels nicely fit into the diminutive size of this mini-comic! The figures continue to morph into near-skeletal visages by the end, their battle ultimately either breaking the field of game play or destroying each other and accepting their eventual fate. The open-ended resolution allows readers to interpret what happened, what’s next, and the ultimate meaning.

BLJ by Leo Fox (Mini Kus! #139)

If you informed a prospective reader that this book was superficially about a video game, it would belie the hidden universal truths examined within. I loved the wide-ranging cultural nods, from mid-90’s Super Mario 64, to audio illusions, the infamous work by Rene Magritte, classic cinema, and all the way back around to the gorgeous wraparound cover that mimics the immersive free-roaming gaming experience that the N64 game offered. The Infinite Staircase of Super Mario is examined in a way that ultimately makes it a metaphor for life. We are all hamsters running on the interactive wheel of life, driving toward some unmeetable goal, stuck in the illusion of forever improvement or ascendancy. If Leo Fox stopped there, it would already be a stark, fun reminder about the destination not being the point, and stopping to be present and enjoy the journey, of finding moments for our own illusive happiness in the proverbial rat race of modern existence. But, Leo Fox goes further. With thick figures and bold inky pages that soak up the somber blues and purples and crimsons, they seem to emphasize the very weight of our existence, the visual colors and shadows of oppression! There’s an allegory to be had about transition and renewal in the human body itself; and the inclusion of a clever hack in the game suggest there may also be a hack for navigating our own real-life existence. Reject the premise. Break the paradigm. This leads to freedom. By “conceding failure” on one path (as the book phrases it), you can often jump tracks to another more fruitful path. Sometimes things need to be broken first in order to be truly repaired. I thoroughly enjoyed this and was delighted to flip the book over to find the January 2026 publication date, because that means it’s an early contender for one of my favorite books of the year.

Not From Home, Not From Beyond by Dina Omut (Mini Kus! #138)

Dina Omut’s whimsical entry in this batch of mini kus! is a near-wordless story that  plays like a subverted fairly tale. It’s a dreamlike adventure, with fine lines to the artistic style and intricate details in the early pages with the protagonist being whisked away from her bed, that bring to mind an almost Garden Gnome/Winsor McCay-like fantasy sequence. She travels attempting to find the source of a smell, with beautiful two-page spreads that are revealed smack-dab in the middle of the book, featuring a rocky outcropping and the lair of a serpent. In what we initially think is the final denouement, there’s a Hansel and Gretel-esque abode, but instead of resolution, the quest continues in what seems to be an infinite loop of faux discovery. It remains unclear if the house represents danger or safety, and it remains unclear if there’s ever any resolution – and that’s the point. The quest mirrors the never-ending dichotomy we can all feel and experience, the lure of adventure balanced against returning to the comfort of home, the perpetual paradigm that is life.

Scraps of Memory by Ula Rugeviciute Rugtye (Mini Kus! #137)

Scraps of Memory is an excellent examination of the illusion of nostalgia. It reminds us that the place you remember never truly existed, and attempts to try and hold onto a place and time are fleeting, because by definition that place and time no longer exist. What our memories create are not accurate depictions of reality; they are illusive, ethereal, fleeting, ephemeral, and transitory; the past and future don’t actually exist, only the present, and any attempts to recapture and revisit are fruitless. The story contained is about survival being its own act of rebellion, but also carrying a sense of guilt or regret. The art is depicted with what looks like beautiful watercolor washes, mostly warm earthy tones that have a calming effect, which is a nice tonal fit to family history. While it can be comforting, family history is also so easily lost, the stories and experiences are so rarely captured in writing that is a firsthand account; it’s often spoken history that’s so easily subject to inadvertent alteration. While we may think we still have time to document it and capture it, the end scene reminds us how easily it can just fade away.

Rain in Tears by Mao (Mini Kus! #136)

Rain in Tears begins with an interesting prompt: “What if Blade Runner’s tools of oppression were used for liberation instead?” There’s a manga-esque quality to Mao’s art, with panels packed with pixelated detail, and perspective shots that lend a sense of speed and movement to the proceedings, befitting the iterative biotech advancements the story plays with. The faces of the human figures are depicted in a very interesting way, partially obscured in either shadow or deliberate modification, like techno-organic visages that almost look like advanced Kabuki-style masks. I enjoyed the inclusion of “Medusa” as a sort of sentient computer program/AI monitoring the experiments with the sea creatures. It feels like cutting-edge speculative fiction, as Medusa makes decisions, either deliberate acts or casual omissions, which result in humans getting caught in the crossfire of blame. It all plays like a cautionary tale that counterpoints and bookends the tech question opening the comic with a more natural dilemma to end on: “Is Nature a benevolent mother taking care of us, or a Lovecraftian horror eating itself up?” Rain in Tears is compelling, playing like technological horror, with caustic yellows and pinks in the art alerting you to the dangerous questions that lie within.

The Boy and the Worm by Heather Loase (Mini Kus! #135)

Heather Loase immediately pulls the reader in with thick lines, bright colors, and a meta-aspect to the writing. There are scripting notes like “there is a commotion off-page” that read like a comic book script or movie screenplay, which are fun and not distracting. The reveal of the goings-on inside the barn being a boy who entertains himself with his imagination catalyzed a deep sense of nostalgia for me. I recalled myself playing for hours with G.I. Joe action figures, using modeling clay with my dad to create elaborate castles and fantasy figures, or casting and hand-painting lead soldiers with him from WWII or the American Revolutionary War era to then run elaborate desktop RPG-style war games. There are pros and cons with healthy fantasy play; it’s good for a child’s creativity, but can also foster a sense of loneliness. Loase’s narrative eventually pulls out to reveal the author at work scripting the very book you’re reading. This allows her to depict all of the trials and tribulations, the self-doubt, the impostor syndrome, inherent in all creative types. I literally laughed out loud at her scene involving being bulled at an Italian deli, drafting a faux apology letter to the Kus! publisher, or imagining her work in bargain bins! (This resonated; I knew I’d arrived as a writer when I bought up my own work in 50% off discount bins at San Diego Comic Con to resell at full price at my next signing!). Loase is an excellent cartoonist, using exaggerated caricatures and emotive figures, which is hard to do at small scale, but it’s quite effective here, even in an immersive double-page spread that boasts 27 panels! This is funny and entertaining, but also a meditative treatise on the act and process of creation itself. This is superb comic book making.

Kickstarter Pre-Launch is Live! [Westside]

From the creative minds behind California, Inc., a powerhouse indie team returns with a gripping new crime saga. Writer Justin Giampaoli (Rome West, Starship Down), illustrator Dave Law (The Space Odditorium, Wolf Punks), and Studio 12-7 publisher and variant cover artist Arthur N. Ebuen (Systemic, Disrupted Tales) invite you into the world of Westside.

This 52-page neo-noir crime drama plunges readers into a volatile crossroads where race relations, car culture, and crime collide. Drawing from deeply personal, autobiographical roots, Westside: Volume 1 is both a hard-hitting crime story and a haunting elegy to Justin’s hometown in California’s Central Valley. Bringing the world to life is veteran indie artist Dave Law, whose bold black and white storytelling is layered with dramatic ink washes, and creates a stark, atmospheric landscape where every conversation hides a secret and every choice has consequences.

If you’re a fan of the slow-burn tension of HBO’s The Wire or the gritty crime comics of Ed Brubaker and Sean Phillips, Westside: Volume 1 will feel right at home on your shelf. Think True Detective, but set in the sun-bleached streets of California’s Central Valley.

The Kickstarter Pre-Launch page is live and has already earned the coveted "PROJECT WE LOVE" badge from the good folks at Kickstarter! CLICK HERE to be notified when the campaign goes live and you can back it! https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/arthurebuen/westside-volume-1

Signing @ Now or Never Comics

Panel @ San Diego Comic Con (SDCC)