rubble

how many times
will i be deeply
wounded
how many times
can i
be deeply wounded
before i
turn into a pile
of rubble
or maybe i will
become
that meme worthy vase
that grows stronger
with each break
& each
repair.

i do not have internet at my house & was unable to google what that vase is called.
now, upon googling it, i find it is actually a bowl & is called the art of precious scars: kintsugi
the art of precious scars
my scars are precious…to me…& apparently i like to show them off to you….

okay. so speaking of my precious scars scars & how i express my wounds through art & writing….
i need to figure out how to make money or how to attract patrons to my work aka promote myself (i’m sure i’m not the only one)
ack!
i am running out of savings. my house still needs a heating system. & i loathe the idea of just getting a “job.” i tend to wither away working in most environments (i am a fucking delicate flower, y’all)
i do not need luxuries–i do not own a tv. internet. smart phone. lawn mower. refrigerator. washer. dryer. or a number of other “luxuries.”
i am totally okay with not making a lot of money…but i do need some income. you know, for like heat & food?
so how do i make money without compromising myself…&/or how do i become more (shudder) marketable?

feel free to talk amongst yourselves….

(if you read yesterday’s post, i referenced my spilling of blue ink…this is the one i was working on while holding an open jar of blue ink…oops)

stalemate

change comes from within
no one
can change me
just like i cannot
change them
i am not going
to change a world
that is only interested
in changing me
some sort of
cosmic
stalemate
& all i can do
is walk away
from the game.

more thoughts from my most recent breakdown/breakthrough…funny how those two things happen back to back. breakdown…breakthrough….

two thoughts on this inking.
1) what is my deal with sweaters?
2) i was working on the page opposite this one–absentmindedly holding an open jar of blue ink–& just forgot i had open ink in my hand. drips galore.

my green man dance

i am the eagle
i am the empress
i am the green man
only the warrior
is missing from my spread
i soar above
i embody motherhood
i am the essence of the earth
a feral thing
with bared teeth
i am
who i am
i am
a celebration
of me.

those are the last three cards i drew from my three different divination decks (two tarot & one medicine card deck.) i really should do a fresh spread, but i have been drawing strength from these cards as reflections of me. i am hoping i can believe this of myself. i totally see the green man in me…but i worry i need more of the empress; more of the eagle.
maybe that is the message. to embrace these things that i fear i am lacking.

hmmm.

my way

i’ve got a chip
on my shoulder
i’ve got
an axe to grind
&
fuck you
i’m gonna do it
my way.

more of this. anger…angst…figuring out who i am. the hero or the anti-hero…i think i am more of the second one. when i try to be the hero things just get messy.
so maybe the trick is accepting that i am not the hero.
& wondering if i ever really even wanted to be the hero.
i mean, i showcase my flaws–i don’t hide them under spandex. i definitely lean to the dark side while still holding something of a moral compass.
i guess things just aren’t as black & white as hero & villain. & who would want them to be? things are much more colorful this way.

a horse called fury

i am not a martyr
for my cause
i am not
going to suffer
so you can
live
without sin
i will ride in
on a horse called fury
i will swing
my sword
indiscriminately
&
i will
burn
this motherfucker
down.

you will all be relieved to hear i was able to download more criminal minds after i figured out that the site i use had changed addresses & i was following a dead link…. yup.
in last night’s watched episode, my favorite character (dr. reid) said, “everything falls apart…the trick is letting go.”
which i’m sure he was saying right to me–yes?
it feels to me like i am often watching everything fall apart.
add in trying to figure out who i really am…am i a good person? or am i a serial killer who just has not yet been triggered? i honestly lean more to the latter these days.
i am exhausted by thoughtless people.

speaking of! i am playing with two new ideas for comics.

the invisibles

and the misanthropic philantropist

loop de loop

i hurt you first
but you hurt me
worst
so many of my
relationships
travel this path
i push away
for fear of rejection
then i come back
just in time
to be rejected
my own little
negative feedback loop
self-fulfilling prophecy
my own
tragic ending
every time i try to be
a whole person.

relationships. can’t live with ’em…can’t live without ’em. i am a mess. my most recent decision is to just dedicate myself to my family & my art & writings to to say “fuck it” to community & relationships.
if i were a man, they would write an epic poem about me–but being a woman, i will just get labeled a spinster & children will fear me.
(i made myself laugh one time thinking about how they never have “most available bachelor” auctions for women–but if they did, it would be a spinster auction.)

obligations

i don’t feel like
moving
i just want
to disappear
but that’s not
really an option
is it
some asshole
had the bright idea
to become a single mother
a freestore manager
to buy a house
that needs so much
work
(so much work)
some asshole
gave me obligations
so now i have to
fucking
get out of bed
even though i just
don’t
wanna.

i talked about this yesterday. of course i wrote this page on the 7th of july & it’s like 10 days later? still feeling it, i guess. not as much though now that i’m past my birthday & don’t have my next painful anti-versary coming up until next month? september for sure…
meanwhile, fuck i have a lot to do.

the ruins

i have been living
in the ruins of me
picking through
the rubble
rebuilding walls
just to watch them
crumble
back down
stumbling around
my own disaster
hoping i will find the
blue print
needed
to rebuild…hiding
from the world
outside
feeling exposed
vulnerable
lost within my own
world
the world i made
the world i desperately
need
to
redesign.

more on my trying to figure out me. as i type this, i feel i am just as lost as ever. not focusing. but there are the kids & the house & the free store & an upcoming art show & everything else i am committed to & all i want to do when i get a free moment is sit & maybe have a beer & lose myself in a book.

becoming

who am i becoming?
so intent
on transformation
did i stop to think
what i would be
next
who i would be
now?
who do i want
to be?
i guess that
is the question
in becoming
i need to draw
a map
to the true me.

this is an ongoing thing. i am emerging from the trauma of having a birthday & am once again trying to move forward. i keep meaning to meditate on this…yup. that’s me, forgetting to meditate on who i am. that’s who i am…but is that who i want to be?

innocent abandon

with the help of a beer
& a novel
i realize
i will never love anyone
the way i loved him
innocent
abandon
eyes wide open
believing it would
never
end
now i know
all about
endings
& have trouble
seeing past them
to new
beginnings.

there are a couple of relationships this could describe. a couple of forever afters leaving me jaded after they crashed & burned.
will i ever be able to find another beginning? it just seems impossible.

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