weener coop page three

so i lived in this coop in madison, & there was a chick there who i swear was stalking me. every time i left the room, she would take my chair…. it was kinda funny until one time i left the room & she took my ex-husband.

weener coop page two

so it’s a co-op of halloween figures…& yes, i am the zombie voodoo thing. my ex-husband is the mummified corpse (representative of his contribution to our family.)
based on a true story, of course.

weener coop page one

some of you may know i spent 4 years living in a cooperative house. this comic is based on that experience.
yes…i am a little jaded by the experience…yet i still believe intentional community is a good thing…just a tricky thing.

i personally find this strip hilarious…but i am sure it is totally offensive to some….

confusion perfume…the book

there were like four more pages of confusion perfume…however, the wonderful tara caribou is planning to publish my comic with a couple other of my comics in a book due out later this year….
what?!?
yes, it’s true.
while there is no news on my short story collection, tangled together, which was supposed to come out in 2019…now, out of the blue, i have a different book coming out in my medium of choice: comics!!!!
so fucking exciting.
by the way, should there be a publisher who wants to tackle the short story collection, i think i can safely assume my other publisher has jumped ship.

anyhoo. the last four pages were a change of pace for confusion perfume, less levity…more dark & scribbly. a short story about 9-11-01 that i turned into a comic using berenice beaumont (my character in confusion perfume in case you are just tuning in.)
and i decided not to post them to give y’all a little mystery. plus! tara has requested i write little ditties like i like to do, explaining/rationalizing/analyzing my work. so i am totally having a blast doing that.
also…maybe brand new never seen before pages????

so what now?
well, today, we have quixotic postcards i made years ago at a ‘zine fest when the printer did not have my order of postcards ready & i had to make some up on the fly.

tomorrow?
(or the next day if tomorrow is too hectic)
pages of my comic in progress: weener coop
& by in progress, i mean, i really do plan on getting back to it one day because i think it is totally fucking awesome.

buy more art

i updated my store page here with some more recent inkings…i am also trying to get up the nerve to put things in a physical space here in driftless wisconsin…. we’ll see how that goes.
i mean i bought sleeves and everything…i’ve even put some of my art into the sleeves….
though i can’t figure out how to price them & want to just put a sliding price tag on….

my kids think i’m an awesome artist….

circles

the free store i started is a month old now. it is packed full of goodies. so many awesome people donating.

i have only noticed one problem.
all the accolades i have been receiving have triggered my impostor syndrome & sent me into some serious dark & downward spirals.
weird, right?
like when people tell me i’m doing a good thing, i feel like i am somehow fooling them.
when one woman said, “way to pay it forward,” i flinched. of course, for me it is not about karma. it is about giving the people what they need; keeping crap out of landfills; putting one over on the man….
but am i a good person for doing it?
i don’t feel like a good person…
then i start to wonder…if my art took off, would i suffer in a similar way? spin out to a dark & devastated place where i fear everyone will realize i am actually a fuck up in sheep’s clothing?

however, i can’t help hoping all the spinning i have been doing will leave me standing still

let's all drink to the death of a turkey

my family lost a friend today.
he was the only livestock we did not sell when we left our illinois homestead.
a turkey named hamlet.
he survived three thanksgivings & died roaming free in the hills of wisconsin within warbling distance of his wild cousins.
he was a good turkey.
he will be missed.

(on a more personal note, hamlet was the only male in recent history to find me sexy…but that is a story for another day)

good night, sweet prince

in memory of mike connell

today is the eleventh antiversary of the day my big brother was murdered by the political party he spent his life working for.

above is a pastel i did in memory of his & my relationship.
below is a poem i wrote on the fourth antiversary of his death.

heavy

when someone close to you
dies
it becomes part of your description
she has brown hair
a nice smile
and her brother is dead

birthdays are the hardest
his last one
I didn’t know
it was the last
his voice sad on the telephone
my pledge to keep in touch
this time

we live in a world
where I can obsessively search for
intimate details of his death
available in short video
burning plane
gray matter spattered on a playground
his last words, “oh fuck.”

notorious IT guy for the other side
the “Forrest Gump of stolen elections”
everything reminds me
of him
the sound of a single engine plane
sad songs on the radio
politics, Christmastime, and charismatic men

I drink Irish whiskey this time of year
but it was Scotch at his wake
four years now
four years since the last election
four years since the plane crash
a conspiracy theorist’s wet dream
murder Republican style

when someone close to you
dies
do you let it redefine you?
hello. I’m Connell
a mama, a student, an artist
let me tell you
about my dead brother

free storing it

so far so good with the free store…though more is coming in than going out. which is awesome that people are so generous–& hopefully it will find it’s own ebb & flow eventually.

i have discovered that i really enjoy sneak peeks into the lives of strangers via donations…must be the fiction writer in me. i also enjoy making sense of chaos. so it’s all good.
though my folding skills leave something to be desired.

maybe i’ll get a trend going here on free stores for sustainability & community.
start your free store today!

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