don’t worry

spirits
ghosts
whispers of things
i do not know
a flutter
at the corner of my eye
voices
bumps in the night
letting me know
i
am
never truly
alone…
if i don’t
answer the door
don’t worry
one of my other
personalities
will
i am safe
tucked
into
the corners of my mind
trading secrets
with my demons
&
arguing
with my angels.

this is what happens when i start a thought on one day and finish it a day or two later. ha! i kind of like it.
in my effort to not escape me by binging on god-awful tv shows per netflix, i am only watching movies on netflix.
the other night, i watched the kindergarten teacher with maggie gyllenhaal. it has a five year old writing poetry and–of course–i started comparing my own “poetry” to his (which i am sure was actually written by a team of adults.) like i do with my art. then i have to remind myself that it is okay for me to be in love with someone else’s style…it does not mean that mine sucks.
right?
that’s the story i’m sticking with.
anyhoo…this random thought free verse started one day finished another…it kind of (just a little bit) reminded me of the poetry in the movie.

short story long.

and i do constantly argue with my angels. they are all like, “focus on you, heal you…” and i run off with the demons because they have a six pack, several seasons of some completely pointless & poorly written tv show, and smoldering looks of come-hither.

also, because i don’t seem to have a mother personality in place for myself–just a horde of wild women & some really awkward pre-teens–i keep going outside in the snow without shoes on to chase goats.
so my head cold should turn into pneumonia anytime now.

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my big brother

while i typed novels
that no one
would
ever
read
on an electric
typewriter
he led the way
in that whole website fad
making a fortune
designing political
websites….
while he wore
a tie
& his million
dollar
smile
rubbing elbows
with bushes & kochs
i was
stomping about
in my doc martin
boots
head
half
shaved
& packing up my
compact car
at a moment’s notice
to go
where
the wind blew me….
we both kept pictures
of the other
to show off
with a laugh
& bipartisan pride
“can you believe we are related?”

twenty-nine days after all saint’s day (day of the dead) is my brother mike’s birthday. nineteen days after that is his death day. i spend a lot of this time of the year thinking of my brother.
so when i saw sarah’s post on her blog “fresh hell” about her amazing brother, i had to chime in in the comments.
and, of course, that wasn’t enough.
so it became a journal page of it’s own.

home sweet prison

i have created
a life
i want to escape from
i built
my own prison
just so i would have a reason
to tunnel
to file & chip away
to avoid
reality
by any means
necessary
i have done this
i want to guess
on purpose?
…but
why?
my life is the rat on the wheel
running
& running
but going
nowhere
a life
fashioned
for escape
but no
actual
escape.

i just don’t even know what to do with me anymore. today is a wash. what the fuck, emje?
ack!
it’s like–sure, i can see what’s wrong with me…but i have no fucking idea how to fix it. i’m just like in my head saying, “you’re just going to fuck this up too, you know.”
that’s me. that’s my life.

that’s what i get for going out in public

i totally have some cold/flu thing. crap. we didn’t get sick all last winter. now it’s only november & i’m down. i woke up yesterday with a sore throat & immediately began worrying about the minions who are in wisconsin with dusty.
he texted later to say poppy was down & the others were a bit snuffy & sore throats.
crap.
when you do the whole no-refined-sugar-&-artificial-crap lifestyle…but then let your minions go trick-or-treating & binge on just that…. for a day or so i think all we ate were “foods” we don’t eat the rest of the year (i’ve never claimed to be mother of the year.)
probably a shock to our systems…the immune one for sure.
plus spending a night cavorting with public school children.
i might need to re-think my allowing a halloween binge.
i mean, at least, ration or something a responsible mom would do??

but yesterday i did get out some of the things i need to be working on. i set up space for them on the kitchen table, which means moving the other random things to the other end of the table (homeschoolers, y’all.)
and i did get some work done! i just need to shade the last page of beyond the field, and all of those pages will be ready to send to the author. i have yet to start the final for another illustration project, but i have been turning it over in my head for a day or two…that’s actually part of my process. thinking about it. some label it “procrastination,” but i learned in my writing courses at UW that this is a very important part of the creative process. i call it “percolation.”
and i did draw a journal page, but it felt so much like all the other journal pages that i could not bring myself to finish it. i am feeling a bit crappy about my art right now too. i mean, i know it is being triggered by doing art for people other than myself–i start to doubt me & wonder if i am any good at all.
i wonder if shel silverstein or ralph steadman (two of my favorite male artists) ever felt that way…i am going to go ahead & guess that vincent van gogh did. imposter syndrome on red alert, y’all.

speaking of, i included in my yesterday layout of work to do the workbook “healing wheel” a samhain to samhain workbook. i was late getting started (too busy gorging on candy it seems.) and decided to start yesterday on the new moon. the samhain section is focused on confronting/noticing our fears. i did manage to do my tarot–which told me what it always does–i use distractions & escapes & do not take myself seriously when i really really should.
i tried to cast a circle…making me realize what a lazy witch i am. i was supposed to call a challenger. i imagined my first ever therapist. and to call upon a healer. i imagined…fuck. i could not think of someone who believed in me. so i started crying & closed my circle. later, i thought of a wonderful female friend who seems so open & accepting of me.
but overall i felt like a letdown to my witchy bloodlines.

all i can do is keep trying, i suppose.

maybe i will finish that journal page & post it later.

random thoughts in order of appearance pretending to be cohesive

i love the wide open sky
but i miss the energy
of a city
i love the peace & the quiet
but i miss the sparkle
of a city
i am alone
lonely & isolated
i want to find
my strong & broken poet
a kindred spirit
someone who knows how
to love me
someone who lets me
love them
i miss adventures
i miss roaming
i miss possibilities
i built a fence
i fashioned my life
into a prison
that requires me to use
old escapes
built using things i love
it took me a while
to realize
the walls
were there
but now that i see them
i can walk
right
out.

i totally started writing a journal page in my head last night as i lay in bed. then i put it on a mental post-it note which apparently has fallen off of my brain desk & fluttered away.
i need a bedside notepad. for real this time.

today i voted (yes!), donated clothes, recycled, and cleaned out my soul. okay–it’s a kia soul which i had accidentally infested with mice while taking my recycling to the drop off. credit to messy minions, there was enough food on the floor & seat of my car to feed a small family of mice for quite some time.
i also thought about picking up a homeless/nomadic man. i am assuming here that he was homeless. he had the homeless vibe, layers of clothes, a huge backpack, enjoying a salad while sitting on the sidewalk…. he was easily the most physically attractive hobo i have ever seen.
and i dig a guy who has needs.
it’s the cancer in me. i want to nurture. so i see some man who seems to need some nurturing & i get all soft in the head. for example, everyone i have ever dated…except for one guy.
i had a total fantasy about taking the hot hobo home & putting him to work–kind of a my man godfrey thing.
by the time i had almost reached my house, i had convinced myself he was my soulmate, & i had totally blown it by not inviting him over.

honestly, i don’t know if this is a desirable personality trait of mine or an undesirable one. or if it even matters.

today is a bit of a ramble.
i am sober for over a week now (vs. my two beer a day habit)–for health & money reasons.
i am also trying to quit my netflix habit which is getting out of control, & i have serious issues with the quality of shows i am willing to binge lately.

the minions are gone away…& i don’t know how to play…but i do have art to do. so i will get to it.

flying leaves & falling birds

i am so in love
with this time
of the year
when i cannot tell
if the leaves are falling
or the birds are flying
because the trees
are so full of both
fluttering birds
beautiful decay
the trees
wishing well
to both as they let go
i need to
let go
as the days
grow short & gloomy
the nights
grow clear & crispy
i breathe
easy
it is time to rest
no one
expects
anymore
i can let myself
breathe
all
is
quiet.

sometimes my “poems” change when i move them from script to text. sometimes they don’t, but sometimes they do. the art journal page is a rough draft. i sometimes make a final draft…sometimes i don’t. these pages are thoughts & possibilities for something more. experiments. works in progress.
like me.

tumbling down

i have lived my life
like falling down
a flight
of stairs
except
of course
i was totally pushed
or
at least
tripped
before i fell into my own life
half-assed
&
so totally
not
paying attention
hitting each step
as i fell
(i’m picturing one of those
circular, iron
staircases
you know
one with lots & lots & lots
of unyielding steps)
now i am
sprawled
at the bottom
of my own
life
…fuck it
time to get up
i guess.

so i was living in madison, wisconsin, attending UW madison, studying art & writing. i was pretty happy…except dusty didn’t like to work & did like to have girlfriends on the side.
i was having trouble affording rent in madison…and was losing myself to my fucked up relationship with dusty.
i told dusty he could choose between his girlfriend & me, the mother of his children & his supposed soul mate.
i told him i would leave madison if he did not choose me.
he did not choose me.
so as 2015 ended & 2016 began, i packed up the minions & moved 2 hours north to rent from a friend in manitowoc, wisconsin. there i started to get involved with the grocery co-op they were starting as well as getting involved in the local farm to school program & the local community garden. i felt like i was finally finding the community i wanted to be in.
six months in, after learning that my parent’s place was available to me, my “friend” kicked me out of her house. i still don’t know why. but dusty (who since i had left him all of a sudden decided to choose me) was on board with moving to illinois and had me convinced that the end of times was coming with the 2016 election. did i want to homestead–or was it a reaction to an unstable economy & society? a paranoia that dusty fed every chance he got….
did i want to move to rural illinois…or did dusty? he came with me and lived here for six months before i kicked him out.

now i’m here alone with a yard full of animals that cost more than they benefit…with a house that is too much for me to care for…with no support system or community in sight….

and i’m pissed off.
i thought i was doing what i wanted to do, but looking back, i think i did what i had to do as well as what other people wanted me to do.
and i’m pissed off.

i know that i can live like this if i have to (butchering my own meat & raising livestock.) and i do want to continue with living sustainably and continue growing my own food, but i was doing that when i lived in town & had access to a community. i don’t have to isolate myself to bumfuck illinois to do that.

crap.
dusty always was good at covertly isolating me. now i’m locked in some fucking tower waiting for him to rescue me?
fuck that bullshit.
i’m building a ladder.

surrender dorothy

i look around
me
& wonder
how much is my own
& how much is done
in reaction
to subtle pushes
& blatant
insults
did i choose this life
or was it dropped
on me
like
a house
from kansas
am i doing this
because
i thought it was a good idea
or because someone else did
i look around me
with new eyes
& feel
the bitter angry bile
of a life not mine
…all i want to do
is spit.

okay. so i have been wondering for awhile now if i want to continue with the life i have. i mean, i feel trapped in my own life. and there are things i cannot change…but there are things i can change…eventually…maybe…some day….
lately, or always, i wonder how i got here.
and i get angry when i think of the decisions i really didn’t get to make. the no-choice situations i found myself in.
like being too broke & desperate to do anything other than agree to care-take my childhood home in bumfuck illinois alone with four kids.

i guess i have just made a lot (a lot a lot a lot) of bad choices.
sigh.
i’m wondering…what do i do now?

i think i need to learn to trust myself…. maybe start there?

blackbird man

my shadow man
my thing of nightmares
my samhain visitor
i give you my heart
but you want my soul
i fight for my life
while accepting my death
my birdman lover
i am your
lonely
plaything
a half-dead
essence
a half-living
carcass
not knowing
whether to welcome you
or to fear you
if i should
hold you
or
let you go.

i keep thinking about this dream i had. it felt very strong. my subconscious loves to talk to me through my dreams. this seemed like a message.
especially as it came the night of the witch’s new year.
the time of year when the veil between the living & the dead is at its most flimsy.

i think it has everything to do with relationships. with myself. with men. with the world around me.

i do not remember an ankh in the dream, but for some reason i feel compelled to put the egyptian key of life in the inkings i have done about my dream.

i want to play with it more.
both as a message for me to heed as well as a potential story.

hmmm…my blackbird man….

also, this is the last page of my current journal. i have now done almost three hundred self-portraits since last october.
i made one page for all of my art journal self-portraits in my attempt to stream-line my art & website.
i hope my site is looking better & making sense.

tomorrow–a new day & a new journal!

 

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