wishes of fishes

morning coffee
to the screams 
of minions
as the world fogs over
on a cold morning
day
waiting for a plumber
to return my 
calls 
so i can stop
pooping
in the yard 
(i’m not really
pooping
in the yard)
i can tell you this
i finished 
my fish
cards

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itchy fingers

no pages written
no pictures drawn
looking at other people’s art
& being
down
on
me
wondering
when i will get it right
when i will
win the race
trying to find my way
and feeling like
i’m going in circles
today is a new day
but
in all fairness
so was
yesterday.

just me. fucking around with lines & colors & concept after looking enviously at the art of other artists on instagram.
i looked through five journals today, trying to figure out which of my self-portraits i like the best to do a final draft of. that is a lot of me to look at. and although–yay–i like a great number of my self-portraits, i suppose i am going to have to narrow it down. maybe i will try to get some audience participation 
who wants to pick self-portraits for me?
i also worked to edit my short story, “together, tangled” while sharing my laptop with three minions who think they should all come first. c’mon kid, is daniel tiger more important than my becoming a successful writer? 
i guess that depends.
eventually, i got tired of the editing & pulled out my journal to see what would happen if i put pen to paper.
but even in my goofing off, i am working towards being a better artist, a better writer. 
i feel very grateful that the things i love to do are the things that i love to do. 

there are no happy endings

you see
i’m that person 
in a corner
because
nobody said
about me
nobody put
baby in a corner
leaving me
alone
in a corner
sad
in a corner
crying at those movies
where the misfit
finds
true love
after all
because i know
nobody
loves 
misfits
&
there’s no such thing
as
true love.

i’m just going to stick with being a faun. it speaks of my true nature…and, as a faun, there is no need for pants.
no panties!

if you are wondering, this is what a friday night watching netflix original movies while drinking wine & eating gummy worms looks like. 

reindeer games

it’s a good thing
i was not rudolph
nor rudolph 
me
’cause i totally
would have been
like
fuck off reindeers
i don’t want to play
your goddamned games
anyway
i would have gone off
into the wilderness
bad attitude sharp enough
to fight off
wolves
& i would have
lit up my nose
so the birds
& squirrels
could come & play
in my 
light. 

this is an accurate portrayal of how hairy my legs are. yes. i am a satyr. they just burned off my horns when i was born. 

as my ink gently dries

these are fun to do because they don’t require a lot of thought. it’s kinda zen. just move the brush. wax on…wax off. and i am always amazed at what happens when you put ink on paper. the hardest part is being patient. 
this is step two (i posted step one a couple of days ago)
i still have a few more steps before they are done…but i have to be patient & wait for my ink to dry between steps.

also! i love my bamboo pen so much lately! 

divine intervention

maybe i should not have
but i drowned 
all the fairies
in a glass of beer
with a drip of 
soap
drunken little bastards
they never returned
the pen
they stole
 but now i find myself
crossing my fingers
& waiting 
for the little voices
to whisper
again
telling me
what to write
guiding
my pen
in stories
they pull
from somewhere
deep
dark
inside me
as i watch
& wonder
“where the fuck
did they find 
that?”

my cracked wheels

i fall in love
as a way
of hating
myself
the cracked wheels
that turn

animate my soul
are powered
by a crush
my heart
crushed
so i can shine
my light
on 
someone 
else.

disconnect

used to be
you had to go to 
the fields
hunt
in the woods
trade
with a neighbor
if you wanted to eat
you worked together
with your tribe
your clan
your society 
to make sure everyone ate
now
now it’s drive up
drive through
don’t stop
don’t even get out of your car
ever
fast food, liquor, now your groceries
all
available
no eye contact
required
don’t look up from 
your phone
…do you call this progress?
because
to me
it feels like
deterioration
a breakdown
a disconnect
an 
utter
collapse.

this might not be a popular opinion. okay, obviously not a popular opinion. but it is mine. i couldn’t even draw myself holding a smartphone i hate them so much. that is not me. someone else there. 
i hate drive-throughs almost as much as i hate smartphones. i get my ass out of the car, unpack the minions, walk in, and do what i need to do. 
am i a martyr? 
some might say i am being a martyr.
fuck that 
i am trying to retain human contact because i think community is dire to our survival. i don’t even like people…and i have serious social anxiety. 
but i get the fuck out of my car and talk to people and make eye contact.

because what happens if we lose even more of our connection to each other?  

ode to an ex-husband

you don’t think
you are
being 
a motherfucker
because
being a 
motherfucker
is the only
reality 
you know
but
trust me
as the sole
beneficiary 
of your
motherfuckery
you
are
being

mother
fucker.

this is an actual text i sent to my ex-husband. i do not have a smart phone–so i had to type it all out without the aid of a keyboard. that’s how dedicated i am to letting my ex-husband know what a motherfucker he is. 

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