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

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gender bending

my first boyfriend
wore face powder
& lip gloss
(i still remember
the smell of kissing him)
his hair
was longer than mine
but once i shaved
off all
my hair
every one of my boys
had hair
longer than mine
because i so loved
the girly boys
with their long
slender
fingers
& their long
batting
eyelashes
every once in awhile
i dated
a chiseled-chin
dimpled cheeks covered
in manly stubble
all the more fun
to dress
them in
lacy lingerie.

this poem was inspired by a completely harmless innocent tiny little crush on my gender fluid editor-to-be…because i wouldn’t be me if i didn’t develop inappropriately intimate feelings for someone i am to be working with….

meanwhile, the ryan renolds movie marathon continues. (i watched the nines last night & loved it. i am pretty sure i am also a nine & that i have created y’all)
i bet ryan renolds would look hot as fuck dressed in “women’s” clothes….

in other news, i am having dizzy spells & my head feels weird…so i’m pretty sure i have a tumor. here is a conundrum…how does a hypochondriac know when they are actually sick? my anxiety manifests as physical symptoms…but what if i really am sick & just dismissing it as stress-induced?…(see how that can spin out fast?)

also, my lawn really really is supposed to be mowed by conventional standards, but i have a hard time thinking about mowing down all those innocent flowers.
if it weren’t for ticks & mosquitoes, i would totally have a wild as fuck lawn.

may the fourth be with you.

mother grim

open a beer
or open a vein
whiskey shot to the head
or gunshot
you don’t know
you don’t know me
& how it feels
sometimes
to try
every day
to be a mother
to these ones
every day
every day
every
day
i make this decision
bag of wine
or bag over the head?
relish these years
when they are little
they say
kids grow up so fast
you don’t want to miss it
they say
miss it?
i am deep as fuck in it
living it
despite myself
every day

have you ever heard of “highly spirited children?” yeah. i have four of those.
they are wonderful, beautiful, brilliant, funny, explosive, screamy, dramatic little things. i love them dearly, but sometimes i find my thoughts wandering over to the dark side.
right now they are with their dad–who again–challenged our placement agreement.
whenever he does, i examine my determination to keep being their primary caretaker–to make sure i am not doing it for selfish or controlling reasons.
i discovered that even though i sometimes think i am a crap-ass mom…i completely believe it is best for our children to have me as a primary caretaker. even though i sometimes feel i am going insane with the stress of being a single mom & of raising four strong-willed children, i think i owe them that little bit of stability that being with me gives them.
i have been there for them since day one. i have a commitment to them. so, sure, sometimes i think dark thoughts, but hopefully–expressing those dark thoughts will help me work out those demons so i can be a better mom.
that’s important to me, being a good mom.
not a traditional or conventional mom, but the mom they need me to be. a crazy-ass mom who (most the time) can roll with the punches.

ps. i don’t drink box wine or else i would have known to call it box wine not bag of wine. oh well….

don’t laugh

so
a spirit guide
came to visit
in the form
of a sloth
[don’t laugh]
a sloth
who climbed
up
to give me
a hug
climbed me like a tree
for a hug
& i hugged him
[don’t laugh]
feeling his warmth
& feeling okay
just before
he sunk his
long sharp teeth
into my neck
telling me
“shit happens”
a sweet hug
& a mortal
wound…
that about sums
it
all
up.

i have been playing around with doing past life regression ever since i had the vision of myself being a murdered celtic queen. i downloaded a past life regression meditation & the first time i listened to it, i saw myself as a young boy in georgia of the russian empire around the beginning of the 1900s. desolate & lost & alone. jumping forward, i saw myself as a young intellectual in a city. a revolutionary. executed during the russian revolution.
after the regression, i was guided to meet with a spirit guide. the above free verse describes that encounter….
huh.
i have done the regression once since then. i ended up as the celtic girl/woman again. & i had a completely different spirt guide that time. not nearly so gruesome & creepy.
maybe i will do a page about that as well.

& yesterday i conjured a bald eagle! i have started taking walks several times a week to combat my “middle age” bulge. so me & the minions were walking yesterday when misha asked me what a bald eagle looks like. i described one, but she suggested we could look them up on my laptop when we got home.
i replied, “maybe we will see one on our walk!” we live near a small river & not terribly far from a bigger river & occasionally do see bald eagles. however, it has only been a handful of times in the past couple years.
nevertheless, just five minutes later, a bald eagle flew over us.

pretty fucking cool.

& today is iggy’s birthday.¬† he is eleven. i never cease to be amazed by my kids in our “buy-nothing-new” & low-impact lifestyle. misha & poppy wrapped up a bunch of their own toys, cash, & candy¬† to give to iggy. (using the tissue paper that our bamboo toilet paper comes wrapped in.) iggy was thrilled with everything he got.
sometimes i feel like i am doing something right….

IMG_2519

a visit to my dark side….

i don’t think very many of my current readers were reading me back when this blog was obsessively dealing with my ex-husband’s infidelity.
my ex-husband had a relationship
with a crazy stalker chick (other than me.)
she would leave little presents
yes, like a cat
for him on our doorstep
& other various places
she would hide in the bushes
& wait for him
i would even find things hanging from trees
in our neighborhood
intended for him.
i became more than slightly unhinged by it all
i began searching his pockets regularly
kidnapping his phone
searching the neighborhood for clues (she liked to graffiti his name about the place)
& throwing various objects (keys to her apartment, love trinkets, & even his phone)
into the river by our house
it ended up being–i’m sure much to the delight of my narcissistic ex–a battle of the stalker chicks
hitting a climax when i found them together
kicked her in the knee
broke my own arm in the process
& got charged with disorderly conduct.
i will never forget having to talk to two cops on my doorstep–having them ask what everyone asks
why didn’t i kick him??
that’s how sick i was with the whole thing. sick & crazy & completely manipulated into being someone i was not.
why do i bring this up?
dude. there is a torn piece of a shirt stuck in the tree branches of one of the silver maples in front of my house, and it is all i can do to not have flashbacks to her weird little leavings meant for him ….

i’m trying to learn how to not hate him…maybe this is the universe’s way of challenging that?

in other news.
i have an appointment to look at a house in an idyllic little town in iowa. it’s an area heavy with norwegian roots–so i’m thinking–lumberjacks??? (or i dig vikings too)
i thought about putting up a new okcupid profile in the area seeing if i could find someone to help me unload my moving truck should i get this house i am looking at on sunday….

oh! & before i forget…stuff over on my patreon page:

& for my next trick…

surviving myself
may be
the best trick
i have ever done
now you see me
now
you still
see me
i’m still here
manacles
straight jacket
cement shoes
submerged in a tank full of every tear
i have
ever
cried
&
i climbed back out
i
survived.

i will rise again

i am in the midst
of an artist’s block…
my pen won’t cooperate
my hand ignores
everything i tell it
my muses have all gone
missing….

i have been trying to do art journal pages, but i have ended up ripping out pages, ripping up pages, re-doing the same picture over & over & over….
something is amiss.
but i am working on it.
& i am not giving up.

the above is a birthday postcard being sent to a friend…
below are a couple of sneak peeks of art journal pages over on my patreon page…i have been relying heavily on edward gorey to help me through my block…interestingly enough, i drew two different self-portraits with my arms thrown up in the air….

harpy love song

my heart
shrieks
for you
like a falcon
on the hunt
echoing back
it sounds like a
harpy call
so desperate
lonely
& bitter
i cry to the sound
of my heart
shrieking
& wonder
who could ever
ever
be lulled
by the sound of it.

there is a struggle happening in my heart as i try to find that ever elusive balance between light & dark…hope & despair.

as i contemplate my impending search for a new home for my minions & me & the money involved, i think again, how nice it would be if you would be my patron….

i post almost daily over there & you can read those posts for just a dollar a month.
for five dollars a month, you get all my posts, & i send you a handmade birthday card.
for ten dollars a month, you get all my posts, & i send you two cards annually.
for twenty-five dollars a month, you get to read all my posts, you get two cards, and a commissioned 8X10 inking.

pea-ed off

lately
i have been
thinking of life
like
the princess & the pea
no–
the pea
is not
for me
you see
i know i am a princess
a true one
at that
for look how easily
my skin
bruises
not to mention
my heart…
the pea is for
every man
i encounter
i hand him
my pea
to see
who
he
will be
but
so far
i have found more frogs
than
princes.

this one cracks me up. but it’s true. i will think, “hey, he’s kinda cute.” then he will do just one thing wrong, and i will be like, “eww. what did i see in him?”
just little things too.
it might just because i am of a certain age with a certain history of dating any fucking mo who came along.
i think i wrote about this the other day. probably after i had written this page. everyone’s a bit of a disappointment to me right now.
yet still i wait to be crushed by the one who can’t sleep a wink because my pea is too hard. (what??)
speaking of, i am goofing off over on okcupid again.
why?
boredom? desperate but not serious? longing for a deep conversation with a nice pair of eyes?

oh! in other news, do not read rick springfield’s memoir–it’s a real stinker. like i have to tell you that.

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