messing around; getting dirty

i have just been craving
some literal
hands on artwork
so i found some pencils
to add to my inks & oil pastels
i haven’t used pencils in forever
i poo-pooed their eraserability
but now i find myself desiring
the scribble & smear
of charcoal pencils
i can’t help but wonder
what it means
about me….

(up top: “escape” 9X12 pencil, ink, & oil acrylic on watercolor paper…suggested price of $75)

creepy art for the samhain

it’s the pagan holiday of samhain
the pagan new year’s
also, the day of the dead
the thinning of the veil
where the dead
creatures from other realms
& other creepsters
(like me)
come around
looking for love….

as a witch, this is a powerful time of year, and a good time to do a lot of personal & magical work. i like the effect it is having on my art šŸ™‚

“over-buttered popcorn” (i let my son name it & his cat’s name is popcorn) …9X12 ink & pastels on watercolor paper…suggested price of $60

creepy art for all hallows eve….

feeling a bit creepy
and it shows in my art
this is the one day of the year
i wear make-up
i will be answering my door tonight
as a gruesome ghoul
& handing out monster
cookies.

“flower garden massacre”… 9X12 ink & acrylics on watercolor paper….suggested price of $60

no matter where you go…

don’t forget to check out my “love for sale” page for new inkings & all my available books.
also! i am always available for commissions or collaborations.

…there you are

up top: “patron saint of miserable mothers” …9X12 ink on watercolor paper
all pieces are a suggested price of $60 with $5 for shipping

queen of breakdowns

exploring my relationship
with patience
exploring my non
relationship
with patience
i want it now
now now now
patience, that is
i want it now…
alas
though i do not prescribe to
good things come to those who wait
i do believe
if it is worth having
it is worth fighting for.

i can’t tell you how many letters i have written to this man since i have broken my knee. it started out like one a week…now it is two or three a week? i have so much to say to him…but he still has nothing to say to me. nevertheless, i keep writing. not knowing if the letters are opened or not. read or not. maybe that isn’t even the point. maybe it is all just an exercise in patience.
in knowing what i want & fighting for it.
i have realized, on the topic of vulnerability, that i do feel vulnerable to him…& maybe that is why winning him back–in one capacity or another–is so important to me. i cannot be vulnerable to just anyone. but i am to him. open & exposed.

in other news…
i have been going to an energy worker/chiropractor for a few years now. river of ahz in viroqua. he is totally worth it. i have seen him for my knee (& the resulting chaos to the rest of me) twice now. both times, after, my knee has felt like a new knee.
today i am even walking with just one crutch instead of two.
& i have put a rubber tip on my bokken to use it as a walking stick as i try to wean myself off of the crutches altogether.

& speaking of breakdowns…i have not even had one today–despite the usual challenges of motherhood. so we can set the sign to 1 day since mom’s last breakdown.
yay!

queen of breakdowns…9X12 inking on watercolor paper…suggested price of $45 to $75

break my heart gently

you know what?
i don’t need an editor because i fucking rock at grammar, etc
what i do need
is a test audience
readers
who want to read my novel
& answer a few questions for me
general feedback
like
do you like me…yes or no?
can you fit your fist through any of the holes
in the plot?
that kind of thing

my only taker so far is my younger sister aka my polar opposite. i am willing to let her read it because she does get me–at least sometimes. and we did come from the same place even though we took different exits (i was vaginal; she was a c-section; i ran away to become a fry cook; she went to college, etc….)

who else wants to read a better life through sock puppets? a darkly funny story of a runaway suicidal mom? yay!
just remember, in critiquing it for me…break my heart gently.

“break my heart gently” ink on watercolor paper. 9X12. suggested price: $45 to $75

daily nightly

thank you to everyone who bought art from my sale! you all are wonderful.

i’m struggling right now with the fact that being able to put weight on my leg does not mean i am back to normal. i’m sure that is a sign of the way i approach life, just assuming i can do it without putting in the work? expecting to be a success from the word “go”?
ack…doing the hard work….
instead i laid on the floor today crying because i cannot do an extended child pose in yoga. not to mention most of the other poses i did effortlessly before this.
doesn’t that count for something? that i used to be able to do it…just 3 months ago??

so i guess i have to take the long way.
again.

ppbbt.

daily nightly…9X12…$45-$75 (sliding scale)

what i’m doing while i’m not doing

one project i am hoping to complete while my leg heals (4 more weeks to go before i am up & outta here) is another attempt to write a children’s book. as you see, i am playing around with characters, etc.

thoughts? concerns? positive feedback?

the violence we inherit

i wonder as i replant all of the basil babies
my son’s cat
dug up in the night
i wonder
was there a voice in my dad’s head that day
a voice that urged him to stop
or to at least take a beat
& think
about what he was doing
as he loaded his gun
or was he too loaded himself
sound voices unable to reach a brain fevered
with the excitement of an excuse
to do violence
what did he think aboutĀ 
as he blew out my cat’s brains
& destroyed the last of my childhood dreams of love
dreams of feeling loved
of feeling safe
as much as i want to do violence
to my son’s cat
i will not
i know the feeling will pass
i know it is important not to hurt my son
know if is wrong to hurt an animal
who is just doing what animals do
i hope my son
feels loved
i hope he feels safe
i hope his cat appreciates that even though i amĀ 
sometimes void
of the empathy that normally haunts me
i am able to recognize right
from wrong
however
even though i assure myself that i am not
my father
i am grateful to the cat
for having the sense to hide
before i found my damaged seedlings
so that belief
did not have to be
challenged.

i don’t remember how old i was when it happened. i’m pretty sure a lot of the details were told to me. but i don’t remember by whom. all i know…or all i was told…was that my sister had put nester the bunny, my baby brother’s pet, on the deck in a cardboard box. my sister did this so she could clean the living room. she cleaned in an obsessive-compulsive way. she cleaned because it was something she could control. she cleaned to survive. so nester was put in a cardboard box on our deck so my sister could do what she had to do.

my cat was a farm cat as my parent’s didn’t believe in house cats. my cat was a big tomcat covered in scars. i loved my cat like nothing else. 

my cat found the bunny and with his own set of survival skills, he broke nester’s neck. this is what i was told.

i remember that midnight then ran under the deck to hide. i am not sure how he knew to hide. but that is where my dad found him. telling the story for years after, my dad would say my cat was laughing at him while my dad pulled the trigger.

what about me?

where was i? was i screaming? was i crying? i remember knowing. i knew my cat was going to be shot. what did i do? was there anything i could have done?

i was already damaged by this point in my life. recent readings have me wondering if i suffer from attachment disorder due to emotional & then physical barriers that kept my mother from bonding with meĀ as an infant & into my childhood.and the violence my father was capable of kept me in a pretty constant state of fear.Ā i am pretty sure i was just hanging on by a thread at this point. my dad had already been responsible for at least one otherĀ instance of killing someone i loved when he put my pet mouse out in the rain.Ā 

i think this was it.

the straw that broke the camel’s back and left me unable to love. to trust. to bond with another living creature.

…until i had children of my own and found a fierce love somehow…somehow…still burning inside me.

“foxy” 16X20 inking on canvas…$200

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