here comes trouble

last night veronica was born to my goat, agatha. agatha is my escape-goat. she will not stay in a pasture for anything. i am hoping veronica changes that….
but maybe i just now have two trouble makers.

meanwhile, claudia, who is now one week old is doing awesome. she is fluffy & bouncy. this morning while i was milking her mom, magdalene, claudia kept jumping on my back–trying to scale me like a small mountain.

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checking in

i have been working on getting my patreon page up & running. i have posted several times for my patrons.
i totally have two patrons!!! yay!!!

i was thinking. for those of you who are as poor as me. if you have a way to do trade, i would totally do that. like i be your patron & you be mine? something like that…i’m trying to figure out a way to be accessible while also making some income.
it’s just a boost to know someone thinks my arts, writings, and random ramblings are worth anything.
it’s nice.

also! i am applying for the sustainable arts award for mother writers & mother artists. it’s a nice award, and the best part is how much i realize i value myself when i fill out the application telling them who i am.

meanwhile, i have gotten to second base with my goat magdalene. she is producing lots of milk which i share with her kid, claudia. claudia gets one teat, i take the other. so i have fresh goat’s milk for my tea.

in other news, i had a weird thing happen last week which i am just getting to in my art journal.
an epiphany? a moment of enlightenment? a breakthrough?

at the very least, a new story, similar to “fallen” in being a fictionalized telling of something real to me–this time about my most formative past life.
so…become a patron & you can hear all about that.

or, just talk to me on google hangouts, & i’ll tell you all about it.

here are some teasers for my patron page:

including a journal page about my little voices and one about my imbolc meditation on longing (for my work on the healing wheel.)
and two pages of illustrations for a collaboration i am doing with benjamin davis on his story fetish.

the image is based on my childhood memory of making my first ever comic series on a chalkboard in my basement. a version of “hey diddle diddle” where the members of the nursery rhyme were some sort of soap opera.

a difficult decision

i have been thinking
debating
i added another tier to my patreon page
a $1 tier where i can post my art journal pages
sketches
works in progress
& sneak peeks
which means i will not be posting as much here
it’s an exercise
in taking myself seriously
and trying to make a go of my dreams
but as a girl
who always gives it away
for free
and who doesn’t mind
giving it away
loving the idea of a world of trade &
mutual support
a world where money is not an issue
alas.
maybe someday
but today i have to buy
groceries
notebooks
clothes & shoes for my kids
buy food for my pets
buy art supplies so i can keep doing art
and!
spend money to support
other artists & writers
(also, one day soon, pay rent &
utilities)
so
for now
the bulk of my posts
will be over on my patreon page
for one dollar a month.
i understand if this is too much
i totally get it.
but maybe, just maybe i can get some patrons
& then be able to afford to do the same
for my fellow
artists & writers & crafters of all types.

whether you join me over on patreon or not, i really really really appreciate your support.
& i’m not disappearing from here, i just have realized how much energy i spend on this site and wonder what would happen if i put that energy into trying to earn money for my art.

xxoo

peeling the onion

what if
my overwhelming desire to be out
of that
relationship
by any means necessary
was not a reflection
on my
ability
to commit…
some sort of self-sabotage…
no, not at all
in fact
a survival instinct
what if
i knew he was wrong
wrong for me
wrong to me
even though on the surface he was
mr. right
what if
my escapist tendencies are all
the only thing
that keeps me from falling
into
the
abyss
of a relationship with a narcissist
not a bad thing
not at all
not something to punish myself for
20 years later
but!
something to celebrate
i
survived.

i’m finding layers, y’all. all kinds of layers. things are not just black & white, good or bad…there is all kinds of stuff going on in the layers.
my energy is shifting.
it’s kinda pretty awesome & i feel a giddy feeling about it. so giddy.

this is a thought i had about a person–many many posts on him. we were together and he said he was my true love and all i wanted to do was run and i did run a couple of times but i tried so hard to make it work and all i wanted was out.
then he left me for someone else. in a pretty fucking cruel way.
and i spent too much of my life thinking i did something wrong & fucked my entire life up by not being able to love him the way i thought i should have loved him.
then, i realized, though he did it a bit differently, he was pretty much the same as all the other charming assholes that my gut said, “RUN!!” about.

funny that instinct. not always a bad thing, running away.

the illustration is based on an egon schiele sketch.

new kid on the block

i’ve been spending a lot of time in the shed today. so much cuteness.
but i am getting some art done.
a little.
claudia the kids is nursing successfully & has dried off so she is actually adorable now.

& i’m trying really hard not to obsess about death….

wanted: strong & silent type

this guy showed up in my tarot spread a couple of days ago in the “near future” position of my celtic cross spread.
he could either indicate something to be found inside me (self-reliance, closeness to nature, steady & practical) or he could indicate someone coming into my life.
please please please be my punk rock lumberjack poet! my own sweet shepherd.
i can live alone. i can do this. i can sort of be practical if i have to be, but i don’t wanna. i really really don’t wanna.

i read in the empath survival guide that there are three kinds of partners for the full blown empath (me.)
they are the intellect, the empath, and the strong, silent type.
i want door number three.
i argue with intellects; i don’t think i could deal with another empath; i need my lumberjack.

once upon a time i married a strong, silent type. a nice earthy earth sign (taurus.) it was nice. he had his room; i had mine. we ate together–but different meals (he was all meat & potatoes–i am fanatic about veg.) we would go out to live music shows & have cocktails & he would take me out to eat all the time (i like being fed.)
problem was, he didn’t know what to think of me.
and my empathic abilities could not deal with his waffling on whether or not he wanted to be with me.
he pulled away, and i pulled away even further.
like to another state.

but i think that he is the closest to a stable relationship that i have experienced.
fire signs ravage me & leave nothing behind.
air signs irritate me & make me want to do things jut to spite them.
other water signs are fun…but too much of the same leaves no room for passion.
earth signs. they sometimes irritate me too–because they are so fucking stubborn…but they also help ground me.
something i do need.

so, universe, if you are listening. i am ready for my punkrock lumberjack poet now.
thank you

i don’t know what i’m doing

in the mid-90s i was all set to go to school
to study
animal husbandry
i was living with my folks to save money
but then
they did what my folks do best
& i was all
fuck y’all
and got in my car & drove off
leaving my dreams of college behind

flash forward to the fucking mania that convinced me i could just wing it.
i don’t know what i’m doing.
this cute thing showed up this morning & i’m just thinking, “god i hope i don’t somehow kill you–or inadvertently cause your death due to my own ineptitude.”
i don’t know what i’m doing.
both the babe & her mama are looking like they have no clue. i’m looking like i have no clue.

the clueless homestead, that sounds about right.
i need a hunky shepherd with the patience of an oak tree to come and rescue me–i mean, assist me.
stat!

my own

you have your
issues
i have mine
one of which
is my habit
of thinking of exes
as that favorite worn-in
pair of jeans
the work
already done &
you know they fit (ish)
when
in fact
my exes are more like
the broken coffee
grinders
lining that shelf
in a forgotten cabinet
where i stashed them
wondering
if i could one day
fix them
or
at the very least
figure out
the appropriate way
to recycle
them.

this is written in response to those who would be quick to judge my collection of exes and my mixed feelings about them.
it’s my issue.
my own.
i’ll sort it out. don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.

again, my hair totally looked like this when i got up this morning. it’s colored fuschia right now, and i had it ink a hair band while it was wet–and then slept on it. i should have taken a picture. it was glorious.

i’m a fucking flower. a beautiful fucking blooming flower.

say ‘what’ again, i dare you

i want to be
the samuel l. jackson
of the art world
i used to say
you know
grandma moses
so i’d have
plenty of time
but now i’m thinking
sooner
rather than
later
& with
as much
profanity
as
possible
so…
hold onto your
butts.

samuel l. jackson had a relatively late start to movie acting. he got rolling in his 40s. now he is an icon.
so, yeah. that’s my aspiration.

but, i will keep doing art either way.

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