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….

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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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& how does that make you feel?

so i had a dream this morning about my teenage heartthrob of choice, adam ant.
he was at my house…the kids were away…it was the perfect recipe for mischief.
why was he at my house? i don’t remember that part of the dream.
i do remember him coming on strong.
but i wasn’t in the mood
& he was being annoying
so annoying that
i took him by the shoulders & said to him, “i would be the best you have ever had, but you would just remind me of my ex-husband.”
because he already reminding me of my ex-husband
clingy & annoying
but i consented to a kiss…i knew i was a good kisser, but i was having my doubts about him
i went in all gentle & sexy only to get viciously probed by a pointy little tongue
so i stopped, pushed his tongue back in his mouth & told him
“knock it off.”
but he didn’t…so the kissing stopped
then the kids came home so i figured that was that
i offered to show him the posters i had of him from when i was a kid.
he was game
i found the posters, but only one was of him, the rest had changed to me
posters of me
i said, “the posters have changed–like they would if i were dreaming.”
then he came at me with a back rub…the foreplay technique that has, historically, relaxed me into many a tight spot….
so i said, “fine.” & started figuring out where we could sneak off to.
he asked if my bed was clean & i said,
“i gave birth in that bed!”
i asked him if he had protection, & he just shrugged
i was a bit worried about where he has been
i knew i had condoms but i didn’t tell him that
i did start working out a cover story to tell the kids
& readying a room for us….

if you made it this far, that’s where i was woken up by feisty morning minions. i have heard said that no one is interested in your dreams…but this one was so empowering & entertaining for me, that i just had to share.
seemingly laden with messages.
i haven’t quite worked it all out yet, but the dream seems to be
all
about
me.

ps. the image is from an old journal page showing 20-something me & my therapist.
lately i am really missing making comics.
i might be headed back to comics…..

church of the lawnscape

i know now
why we’re so fucked up
as a society…
it’s that we don’t get the therapeutic
meditative
cardio
workout
of mowing our lawns with a reel mower
& scythe
dude…
i’m serious here
as a hand dish washing
line hanging out laundry
reel mowing
she-ra
i am here to tell you
listen as i preach it
an easy life
is no life at all
work it, people
work it….

as the main representative of the church of the reel mower & sole member/candidate of the thunderdome political party….
i do need to start recruiting.

seriously, y’all. i just want someone to praise me…worship me…speak my name with such devotion….

i don’t know if y’all can see it, but i am mowing a little every day around the house to create some yard so the minions don’t have to go in the weeds if they don’t want to.
i am completely ocd about it. i get out there with that fucking mower & i cannot stop. then, when i finally do, every muscle in my body says, “goodnight.”
it’s clearing my head as i clear some lawn.
i really do think we as a society have lost our priorities. someday i will get that church going–get that political party started….
in the meantime, i am feeling fine.

also! i finished the seascapes i was commissioned to do.

in other news, i have been thinking a lot about direction. i feel that my self-portrait series is wrapping itself up. even though i was told to pay no attention to the critique that questioned my writing abilities
(thank you for your support, xxoo), i have been thinking about it. i want a strong narrative to go with my self-portrait series. so i think i am going to go back through all those journals and try to create that narrative. i don’t know if it will end up being more verse than prose or more prose than verse…or a mix of the two.
but it is time to embrace an ending to it…& also a beginning.

shark guard

this is not poetry
i am not a poet
i cannot stress that enough
i never imagined myself poetic
never
ever
ever
it’s just that free verse
is such an easy way
to say
what i need
to say
nevermind the rhyme
i am not a poet
not
ever
ever
i just have a lot to say
a lot rattling around
in this brain of mine
& the easiest way
to get it out
is to
just
blurt
in free
verse.

so i got rejected for the second time by the sustainable arts awards for mother artists & writers.
poop
i really really could have used the money.
also, i can only find rentals that say “proof of employment!” telling me i need to be earning three times what the rent is.
the real world just fucking sucks sometimes.
but!
am i down?
am i out?
no. for some fucking rainbow shooting out of unicorn ass’s reason, all i feel is hope.
so fucking weird.

i wrote the above not-a-poem because one of the critiques of the portfolio i submitted to the sustainable arts foundation commented on my sub-par writing while complimenting my artwork.
so!
just trying to keep my spirits high…though, again, weirdly they are staying up all on their own.

the above image is what happened when i tried to do a commissioned seascape that included a mermaid. here is the same seascape yesterday before i changed it:

do you see what i did? i put in another shark. it occurred to me as i was trying to fall asleep, another shark would create a “guard” effect rather than suggesting the mermaid was in trouble. or, at least that is my take-away.

works in progress

i survived mother’s day…just barely
noticing via instagram posts
that i cringe when husbands praise wives
& when i see daughters & mothers together
but am okay with sons & mothers
…hmmm
you don’t need to look twice
to see where my damage is….
but i survived
and will live to see
another
mother’s day
& maybe not be such a
train wreck
next
time….

here are some commissions i am working on. i realize, the more i ink, what my style is exactly–& i try to stay true to it.
i am excited to see how these will turn out…& hopefully the people who commissioned them will be just as excited.

and for those of you wondering about my patreon page:


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