& 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…..

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splattered

i may be naked
but that doesn’t mean
you can touch me
i may be vulnerable
but that doesn’t mean
i will love you
i don’t have to be
flattered
that you noticed i
splattered
myself
all over my world
just because i want to share
my pain
doesn’t mean i am inviting you
to join the melee
i may be
desperate
but i am not
serious
i may be hungry
but i am not
starving.

i found the perfect egon schiele selfie to use for this self-portrait. i wish i had done it justice.

egon!

in my defense, where he has angles, i have curves. oh well.

also, credit to my childhood love, adam ant, for the “desperate but not serious” quote.

here’s the thing. i hate it that someone (usually a man…but i don’t want to generalize…okay, i do…but i won’t) looks at my art, reads my words, and then assumes he knows who i am and what i need.
ack!
it was worse when i was “young.”
then they all wanted to tell me who i was.
now it’s not too common, but laying myself bare through my art & writings does invite the lingering glance, so to speak…or the perv-y stare, rather.
anyhoo!
i am way more complicated than a ba-jillion self-portraits with badly versed thoughts. like any exhibitionist, there is more to me than meets the eye.

building walls & burning bridges, possible title for my memoirs? “no man is an island,” my ma liked to say to me. “i’m a peninsula, mom,” i would reply…and i like it that way.

little punk rock me

when i was 13 i had every intention of marrying adam ant.
i got his strip album that christmas and went on to buy all of his solo albums as well as his punky-er stuff with the ants.

i love adam ant.

he might be to blame for my always falling for short-ish guys with blue eyes & curly hair.

when his concert tour of the u.s. was announced last fall, i posted that i needed to have tickets. and a friend bought them for me (thank you!!)
but then i started worrying.
do i really want to see him or will it just be weird. like the whole “you can’t go home again”? he is almost 60 years old. all his publicity shots seem to emulate captain jack sparrow after a really long night of drinking. is it going to be weird to see an old guy trying to be young?

except…i mean, adam ant was one of the things that helped me survive a fucked-up childhood. fantasizing about a world out there where people like adam ant lived & breathed…it helped me push through all the bullshit of growing up in an alcoholic & abusive home in a small oppressive town where i was a freak from day one.
his music. his lyrics. his seductive lip-glossed smile. his leather-clad hips.
adam ant shaped me more than i realized. is that weird?
i have listened to his music all day today and a lot of my wonderings about how i turned out a feminist in a household that demonized feminism have been answered. i was liberated by adam ant.
sure, i might also have been born leaning to the left in a right-leaning home…but i think if my folks had known what i was listening to, they would have been limiting my time on my walkman.

the concert is on tuesday in chicago. i am driving alone to chicago to see the man i dreamed about every night of my adolescence. and even if he is old, fat, and goofy…i think adam ant will always be my hero.

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