death wishes

i usta sit
by darkened
winter windows
this same window
i now make art
with the light of
eons ago
i stared at the dark
reflecting little me
reflecting damaged me
back
waiting for him
to come home
praying
he would not
come home
death wishes
for daddy dearest
&
only forty years later
wishes
granted.

yesterday as i was driving back from dropping off the minions, my cell phone rang & “pure evil” came up on the screen.
i did not answer.
when i got home, i listened to the message. my mom, telling me that she thought he was asleep, but that my dad is dead.
that’s my mom, phoning around for a reaction before actually calling the paramedics.
so…my dad is dead.
don’t say you’re sorry, because i am not & if you say you’re sorry, it will only make me feel like a bigger shit.

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ghosting illinois

in the spring of 2016
i lived in manitowoc wisconsin
i had begun volunteering
at a community garden
working with
farm to school
& helping to launch
a cooperative grocery
things i had wanted to do
most my adult life
i was doing them
joining a community
on the icy shores
of lake michigan

circumstances changed
my landlord decided
she needed more space
my ex decided
we should try again
my parents moved away
and i had a free place to stay
who doesn’t want
a free place to stay
but
as we all know
nothing
is free

i’m trapped in illinois
isolated
no community
no urban scene
any where near
for
gardening
& creating green spaces
i am stranded
right in the middle
of a giant fucking green space
(turns yellow though
when the corn has tassles)

i want to ghost
illinois
move to a town
large or small
but a town that needs
someone like me
a town that wants
someone like me
a town that loves
someone like me
a town
maybe
in iowa?

throwing a dart at at map. what about decorah iowa? it has nice assonance. i do enjoy a good ass..onance.
i don’t know. any thoughts? anyone?
i have to stay within kid-swapping distance of their dad in southern wisconsin…but i don’t want to be too close. plus people in wisconsin do not like me very much.
i used to live in iowa city. for the first four years of my adulthood i lived in iowa city. and i did love it. i ended up ghosting it because i was 22 & the world beckoned & my therapist wanted me to stop dating & focus on healing…so i skipped town & moved to illinois (briefly) & binged on boys before beginning a state-hopping escapade, full of boys.
but that is another story.
i liked iowa city. and i like the idea of going back to school & being close to friends…but i also like the idea of finding a small community in a picturesque setting.
hmmmm?

i’m hoping to be out of here by my birthday (july 12–mark your calendars!) as both a big happy birthday to me and as a fuck you to my folks who are headed back up here to wrap up loose ends.
i know, really mature…but you should meet my parents before judging my desire to avoid them at any cost.
plus my kids are still traumatized from their last interaction with my parents.
(never ever ever should have moved back here…but that is a lesson learned)

projects! projects! projects!

(i don’t know if anyone ever notices…but i often use movie quotes or mangled movie references in my posts. it amuses me. this one is from robocop (the real one) in reference to clarence saying, “guns! guns! guns!” man, i love robocop….)

so, idle hands being the devil’s playground…or something like that…. i am, at least, keeping busy despite my mental breakdown.
so yay for that.

over on my patreon page, you can find the full posts of an except from my novel-in-progress: chasing ghosts
i’ve been working on it for over 20 years now, so you know it’s good.

also! i am finishing up illustrating benjamin davis’s story fetish. one more page to go on this installment. hopefully he & i will continue working together, & i will be doing more in the future.

and, as always, my adventures as the invisible exhibitionist continue via my art journal self-portrait series.

well worth the dollar a month!

drawing in cars with boys

here’s what it looks like when i try to draw a car

i’m trying to illustrate a scene from my novel-in-progress chasing ghosts where the male lead drives a ’65 impala.

i can’t draw cars…but, compared to the other things i find i can’t do lately…this one, at least, i can use some artistic license with.

disappeared

i want to just
disappear
no one loves me
anyway
i’m alone
so alone
& no one
not ever
reaches out
just to say
“hey–are you okay?”
i’m damaged
hurt & confused
it’s no fucking secret
i struggle
every
day
& no one
not ever
just for the fuck of it
checks to see
if i’m still
breathing
i’m alone
so alone
&
i have
already
disappeared.

i’m going through some rough shit right now. i don’t know what’s wrong with me.
i spent yesterday reading through select years of my journals to see if i could figure it out.
i don’t seem to be an inherently bad person. just stupid. so why does everyone gravitate away from me?
why does everyone leave me?
or just have nothing to do with me to begin with. not even the other lepers want to deal with me. i always think i am ghosting–but no one saw me in the first place.
(except for the narcissists. they usually stick around. which is all the more damaging as it turns out.)
what is wrong with me?

if i had a friend or a sister who was alone in the country with four kids, i would fucking check up on her. why does no one ever do that?
it makes me cry.
i have been crying for days now.

whispered love spells

yesterday as i was driving
i don’t know why
i played & replayed
the song “loverboy” by billy ocean
i do not know how many times
i listened to the song
feeling a pull in my heart
painful & yet…
i kept playing the song
crying along to the lyrics
feeling the pain of it
but enjoying the pain of it?
being an empath
i am never sure if i am feeling what i feel
or feeling what another person is feeling…
in this case, i guess, billy ocean
but
i kept playing that song
then i looked up to see that the semi-truck in front of me
had a sign on the back of it
a picture of a beacon with the word “beacon”
yesterday i wrote about how my heart
has become a beacon
my heart is a beacon…but
i have not taken down the walls
around it
so i am kind of like a lighthouse
warning of the rocks…
i wonder
how do i take down
the walls
how does my heart
become a beacon
of welcoming?

i am still accepting patrons (just a dollar a month!) over on my patreon page where you can read my whispered love spell and see the entire page of this gustav klimpt inspired inking (yay!)

also, two more pages of “stolen,” my art journal adventure as i explore a past life as a kick-ass celtic warrior queen.

broken people

i’ve always loved the broken people
always always
i am drawn to them
but not like a moth
to a flame
because i am also the fire
my own all consuming
damage
at least as deep
as theirs
at least as bright
as theirs
i love them because i think
they will understand
they will know me &
they will love me
because i am like them…
thing is
when both of you
are broken
who is picking up the pieces?

this was originally posted on july 3, 2018. it was inspired by the song “broken” by lovely the band.

i can’t decide which one i like better. i think i like the original better. it’s creepier. and the leg splay is awesome. but i do like the rouge i put on the second version.

an open book

he says
i never told him
why
when actually
he just never
never listened
to all the times
& all the ways
i did tell him

i have always
been
an open book
that no one wants
to read
i make the words
louder
the pictures
brighter
only to have my cover
snapped
shut
that much quicker

i try so
so hard
to be seen
to be heard
fearing the attraction
i have never gotten
but craving
that
validation
so badly
so fucking
badly

this was originally posted in may of 2018. i re-did the illustration. now it is another finished piece for my the invisible exhibitionist project.  it was based on an egon schiele painting.

stolen & fetish

in addition to working on a collaboration
with benjamin davis
of his story fetish
an illustration i am doing
using my bamboo pen & ink brush

i am working on turning part of me
into a fiction story
a lot like i did
(am doing)
with “fallen”
the story of a 40ish mother who realizes
she is the devil
“stolen”
is a realization
of a past
life
experience

done in my art journal like my other pages
like my other
self-portraits
but different in that one day
it will be a full-length story.
i am pretty excited about it
though as i am inking yet another treasure map
while my fetish pages dry
i realize i have a lot
going on
and expect myself to totally keep up
with all my projects

and i wonder…what makes me think
i can do all this?
who is that
part of me?

(a dollar a dance…i mean, a dollar a month, gets you full page access to these projects and my undying love. yes, a mere dollar a month. that’s like 3 cents a day. surely i am worth 3 cents a day….)

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