pages seven, eight, and nine

i’m feeling a bit crappy today.
i didn’t get morning sleep, which is where my good dreams are–the ones that speak to me. and then light bulbs burned out and my camera left out in the rain by a belligerent 11 year old and all i can do is worry about money to replace these things and i don’t have any money and i am so so tired of people treating me like crap….

so here are my latest illustrations.
i like them & i hate them & i just want to go back to bed.

and i have no beer & no coffee
and, again, no money.
poop.

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the whole wide world

so yesterday morning
i had a dream that is a reoccurring theme for me
the dream has me
desperately
trying to reconcile with dusty
desperate
to be with him again
so i spent yesterday
pissy
& wondering
does my subconscious really really?
want me to reunite with dusty?
really?
& i guess my subconscious was listening
because this morning
i had the same dream
but with a different ex
desperate
again
to reunite
to be in love
happily ever after
now i know it’s not dusty
my subconscious is messaging me about
but i am still in the dark
is it as simple as my own desperation
to be loved?
to be happily ever after?
or does it go deeper….

i’m not getting art done. the minions are crazy, & i am crazier. i need to get art done. because, well, deadlines…and because it is something that keeps me sane….

but late summer is acting like fall and i have bees to get ready…goats to find a stud for…lambs & turkeys to butcher…winter gardens to plan…chicks being born and deserted by their fickle mama hens…

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i did get around to signing up as a place for travelers to come & help out. i am on helpx and on wwoof. today a couple of girls contacted me about hanging out here in september.
did you know that not only can i feel like an imposter as an artist, but also can i do so as a homesteader?
i’m all like–is my homestead actually a homestead? are they going to be disappointed in my homestead? like take one look and go–you call this a homestead???

aw fuck.

relationships, art, writing, motherhood, and homesteads…it’s all one experiment in rejection….

speaking of, a work of creative non-fiction i submitted to a magazine that was doing a theme that screamed of my story, rejected my story before the email submission had even cooled…and i cried…and then felt like an idiot for crying when there are people losing their homes to fire, flood, and fascism….
but it still hurt.

ps. if anyone is good at dream interpretation & wants to take a crack at my dream, please do so!

pages four, five, & six

so much ink. i’m not sure if i should re-do this one or go with it. i am playing around a lot with intentional ink stains. i am no van gogh however.

i’m still undecided on some of my results.
some i feel really strongly about…others, i’m not so sure.
i could point out all of the things that bug me…but i’m not going to. i’m working on managing my anxiety, and i think this somehow falls into it.

so here are some pages.

done-ish.

my empathic heart

when my empathic heart
opens wide
it is a kaleidoscope
of emotion
washing over me
burrowing inside me
traveling through me
borrowing my tears
& my smiles
my sorrow
my anger
my elation
& no drug–or other person–could ever
make me feel
like i do
when my heart is wide open
& i am safe
to feel
just feel
the world around me
all of its beauty…its light & its darkness
this is me
this is mine
this is who i am & who i want to be
an open heart

when the minions are away, i have the opportunity to do things i cannot do when they are here. this is one. spreading my art all over the kitchen table. i love doing that. then i work on it, walk past it, add to it, debate over it, smudge & splatter and just be my art. ink ink everywhere.
makes me happy.
other things i do when i am alone:  talk to myself, revel in the bathroom being clean, binge watch shows on netflix, focus on myself & my healing….

sometimes being alone is a good thing.

pages one, two, & three

i wrote the following poem/facebook post for my new moon manifestation

internet dating
with it’s oozing
toxic
masculinity
both the profiles
(sports! sports! & sports!)
and the interactions
(ass-hole-io!)
have caused me to swear off men…
a new moon
(new beginnings!)
& an eclipse
(feminine moon blocks out masculine sun)
methinks i should explore
the ambidextrous nature
of my heart.

so ever since i said i’m not dating men anymore, men keep approaching me via facebook. friend requests, message requests, and–today–one “god fearing” man offered himself to me (or any other of the single ladies) on a post i had written about how much internet dating sucks ass. i suspect my frequent postings about internet dating has put me on some sort of demented facebook singles page.
gross.
what really really really pisses me off is that not a one of them took the time to see who i am. seriously? all my information is right there–pagan anarchist single woman seeking other women. how difficult is that to research?
do you research, fellas.
i’m done.
so done.
i just want to do art. hang with my minions & other critters here. contemplate the mysteries of the universe…and not be a single lady.
no more.
i am not single.
i am complex. and amazing. and wonderful.

while the ink dries…

so i started working on the finished project of “mistress of mud.” i have page one and page two more than half way done (only 17 more to go!)

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homesteading…artist…mama.

except, if the minions were here, i would not be able to take over the kitchen table like this.
and while the ink dries?
check the beehives
give treats to the sheep & goats
move last mama away from her lamb for weaning
weed the lawn & garden
plan for future landscaping
mow the massive lawn
(or let the livestock to it)

hang the laundry to dry
do the dishes
make lunch (apparently i still need to eat when the minions are away)
pick veg out of the garden

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do something with said veg to make it last through winter
feed the hordes of animals which includes catching bugs for the toads
clean cages
collect eggs
pet the kitten–or stash him in your hood so you can update your blog…or binge on netflix…

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what else?
oh!
don’t forget to go back & finish your pages once the ink has finally dried.

would i read this book…?

you know how your own voice
sounds so fucking weird
when you hear it recorded
and played back to you?
my art sometimes
hits my ear that way
i hear my speaking
and it is irritating
and i wish my voice were huskier
and more
melodic
i want my art to sing to me
like tina turner
but
instead
it is off tune and without soul

when i check out picture books for my kids–or look at graphic novels, i almost totally choose stories based on their illustrations.
you can see me in the library pull a book off of the shelf, open it up, blurt “ew!” and quickly re-shelf it with a wince.
so as i am making illustrations for my friend’s story, i keep wondering, would i choose this book?
except it’s difficult. like looking at your own face in the mirror and trying to figure out if you are pretty. what do other people see when they look at you because all you can see is that one eyebrow is higher than the other and your nose is asymmetrical.
ack!
so i don’t know if this is actually a finished page…or just one more step towards getting it almost right…
close enough that i’m not embarrassed by it, at least.

on a side note, i think my inner catholic is peeking out again as i try to illustrate this story.

update: i literally just started this inking, but i already like the sound of its voice better….

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