falling apart

i’m on the email list
apparently
for my old co-op & keep getting emails
about the upcoming reunion
fuck me
i want to burn that place to the ground
i moved in there
full of hope
i escaped there
a jaded & broken person
people are liars. people don’t even know they are liars.
but
they are liars.
they lie to themselves.
they lie to you.
they lie to me.
they pretend they want social justice
they pretend they want to make the world
a better place
they pretend they care about you
they are motherfucking hypocrites….

the carpet folks who saved my mom’s basement (where i live)
have not been paid
i contacted my siblings
before calling in help with the flooded basement
everyone told me to go ahead
call in professionals
the professionals came…did their job well…and saved
the carpet & wood siding
now no one is paying them
i don’t have the money
my mom does
my siblings do
not me
in my stupid stupidity moving here so my siblings could forget about this place
now my heart hurts
for a carpet company
who was unintentionally scammed
by me
it seems
am i a liar?
if i knew then, what i know now
i would have let this place
sink into the mud.

in one week
i will rent a u-haul
& go in a general direction
i have no destination
just
a
general direction
hoping
beyond hope
i will
somehow
land on my feet
once more.

here’s stuff going on over there:

the main image of this post is an art page that went south & so i just doodled the fuck out of it.

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cataclysmic (or that’s how it feels anyway)

yesterday the olde english faire got rained out & we didn’t get to see jousting or birds of prey or raunchy pirate shows. i was so looking forward to losing myself in the festival for a day. instead i spent the day waiting for the rain to stop.

except yesterday was the longest day of the year & it rained & rained & rained some more.

and with the impending status of being “between homes” the minions are losing their little minds & my skin is crawling off of me to just stay sane enough to deal with their excited & agitated energy.

now i just feel weepy & like drinking away my sorrows while binge-watching marvel shows on netflix.

so i’m not getting much art & writing done at all…but i did do this goof-off inking of cats.

not really cataclysmic, i guess…but it does make one wonder why so many words like “cataclysmic,” “catatonic,” & “catastrophe” start with “cat”…hmmm….

for more of a dog person’s thoughts on cats (just kidding my page in non-partisan) check out what’s going on on my patreon page for just a dollar a month:

between homes

summer 2015
while trying to convince the dad to move away
leaving a “commonwealth” scam
leaving a doorstep haunted by a predatory woman
leaving a sadness that soaked my bones
just leaving, i begged
or not…
i tried to to convince the dad to move away
somewhere cheaper
far away from his predatory “other woman”
i tried
& failed
he would not leave her
& stupidly
i agreed on a rental that would not be open until
the end of
summer
summer of 2015, between homes
bouncing around
crashing, house-sitting, visiting relatives
only to land again
in my own
sadness

i have been thinking of that summer, if only to remind myself that i have been “between homes” with four children before…& survived.
i am hoping that this time i do not land again in my own sadness.
the dad has been trying to convince me to come live with him again….
right???
what insanity would that be?
i have broken free of him & to give up that freedom would surely mean the end of me…
but, i might have to turn to him for temporary shelter. i am trying to find other options, but having a safe place for the minions to be trumps all other concerns. & where the minions go….
i’m trying to be excited about a change, even an uncertain one. i mean, i am excited about it…but also worried sick. i turn every scenario over & over in my head. i do everything in my head, first, preparing myself for anything unexpected.
this is how i survive.

to help support my traveling circus & our search for a forever home, check out my patreon page where i am working on character development of a comic book hero who has been in my head for about five years now….

and being a patron of mine of the $5 a month or more, gets you personalized art postcards like these:

tarot wisdom aka fuckit…this is my life



i did my tarot on the last night before my kids came back having forgotten to do it the other days they were away. i was tired & thought about skipping my monthly check-in with the universe via tarot, but in the end, i lit candles, shuffled my deck, and asked for guidance.

rebirth was my first card. the card representing me at this time. rebirth is also judgement. the past shaping the present. a time for moving forward with new resolution.



next came the delusion card. it is what is challenging/crossing me at this time. delusion….
i didn’t know what it was, but now i am guessing it represents the house i thought i was going to rent. the house that, as of yesterday, sold to someone else.
a decision that did not work out….

in the “present situation” position of my tarot spread came my very most favorite card. one i have not seen in quite awhile.
the warrior card!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
present situation…kicking ass & taking names…er, rather, forward moving energy. mastering adverse circumstances through my determination & courage. confronting fears.
fears like living way off the grid with four kids & a bucket to poop in…which is what is happening since our rental fell through.
i mean, on one hand, i like the idea of an adventure & the experience of living in a very unconventional way…on the other hand, i am having difficulty imagining that happening with four kids.
but!
i do have the generous offering of a free space to camp while i look for a more permanent situation. so i should feel blessed for that. and it is summer. the best time to camp.
and once i have a roof over our heads, i’m sure we will look back on this time & have a good talk with our therapist(s) about it.
(i would like to point out that the present situation card has a badger on it which is the state animal of wisconsin–where i am moving to–so that seems to be lining up.)

& lest i forget! my patreon page is still looking for new patrons… here is a glimpse of some of the goodies you could peruse should you fork over a dollar a month:

the next chapter

this is the rough draft for the cover of my collection of short stories. funny thing, after i did the initial inking, i decided to go back in & give my cover face a crown of thorns (because so many of my characters are martyrs)…as i inked her a crown of thorns, nine inch nail’s cover of the johnny cash song “hurt” came on my pandora mix.
kismit anyone?

other big news. i found a place to live!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! not iowa, but wisconsin. closer to friends & family & a support system & a future in working with intentional communities & rights of nature, etc.
so–yay! here is a photo of my new neighbors….

also, i finished my sixth journal of my self-portrait series.

i am officially taking a break from self-portraits to work on other projects. i have been playing with my style and really liking what i am doing. here are some sneak peaks from my patreon page….

one of these faces is not like the others (as i end my self-portrait series & begin the next journal)

finally, i started working on my next collaboration with benjamin davis. here is a sneak peek of that….

loving the lunatics

holy crap
what if
what if
you can’t do
normal
what if dysfunctional
is the only
speed
you move at?
you say you want
stable & secure
but then
then
you secretly shop for
fucked up
you crave crazy
you love the lunatics
lists of issues
are a turn-on
is this your sickness?
is this something
you can recover from?
or is damaged
&
broken
just the way you
roll
your own
warped
happy
ish
ending.

originally posted on october (inktober) 7th of last year. this page of the invisible exhibitionist was inspired by/stolen from one of my favorite male artists (& a bit of a freak himself) egon schiele.

i usually post a picture of the finished portrait next to the original…but my camera, abused by minions, refuses to work. i had to go shopping for a cheap replacement & am waiting for it to arrive. when it does, i will post some before & afters of this page as well as “the wrong one.” though i still don’t like my re-do of “the wrong one” (i tried three times to get it right) as much as i did the original.
sigh.
for love, support, & a new camera... (haha, you totally thought i was going to link you to my patreon page….)

itching to leave my cocoon

itching to leave my cocoon
itching to bloom
i’ve been in here too long
safe & snug
throughout my cold & dark
transformation
into a bright eruption
a moth to the moon
a bee to a flower
my purpose
awaits.

stream of consciousness verse. that’s basically how my brain works. if you ever have a conversation with me in person, it’s not too different than reading my brain outbursts here & in my art journal.
disjointed thoughts
mixed metaphors
backstories
in all the wrong places….

but i digress! i am itching to get out of my cocoon. i feel like that is what my time here at my childhood home has been. i feel like that is what my submerging myself into my art journal exploration of my dark & drippy psyche has been.
i’ve written out all the parts of my brain that i can right now. i’ve written them out to make room for new thoughts.
revolutions & epiphanies await.
just have to shake free of the rest of this
chrysalis
rise from my tomb
& go.

for a front row seat to all the amazing things i will do…just a dollar a month, y’all.https://www.patreon.com/emjemccarty

the wrong one

The literati mafia

after all this time
after everything
or
because of everything
i just can’t believe i am the kind of person
who deserves to be loved
whenever
i see someone i would like to call
my own
i worry they will find their true love
before
i can convince them
to love me
i worry they will see
right through
me
right through
to my rotten
core
i know in my heart
what they will one day discover
i know in my heart
i am
the wrong one.

© quixotic mama 2019
find more of my art & writings at quixotic mama.

the image is one from my the invisible exhibitionist series of self-portraits.

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