a half century of me

a week from today i will have survived for one half of a century.
(that is the best way my brain can interpret what is happening)
i have never struggled with a number before…but i really really do not feel like i could possibly be this old.

rage & sorrow

i don’t know which way is up.
it’s a bad time of year for me.
my mom’s burial…the anti-versary of being molested on the exact same day my dog died…the fourth of july…my dad’s birthday…then my birthday….
i’m hoping to stabilize by mid-july?

haiku doin’?

the rain did stop. the
sun did come out. mosquitoes
remained the constant.

more delightful art journal pages written while camping in wisconsin instead of funeraling in texas.

escape from texas

i did not go to my mother’s funeral…i went camping instead.
i just could not gamble
on going from a “green” state
to a “red” one
willingly
exposing my family
to the stigma
of traveling in the time of covid
i have a lot of mixed feelings about this.
and a couple of journal pages….

ink & brush

this is me of late
all i want to do is do art
don’t want to mom
don’t want to adult
don’t want to do anything but hide in my office with my ink & just let the world go by…
go bye.

look at me now

i have finished the project! the portraits for an art show are done.
in all, i have 69 portraits.
wow.
i did a final one in the style i have been using for my current journal pages. it is on display over on my patreon site, but eventually might make its way over here.
i am, overall, pretty happy with the collection.
so…
what now?

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