the invisible exhibitionist

the invisible exhibitionist was, in part, my response to social media. being a highly sensitive introvert, social media was especially difficult for me. why was everyone happy but me?
so instead of posting selfies with perfect hair, i inked how i saw myself, warts & all. instead of photos of my delicious meal or fantastic vacation, i posted free verse that glorified all of my short comings as a mother. as a daughter. as a friend & lover. 

i didn’t want to show everyone how well i was doing, i wanted to reassure others that they were not alone in their struggles.

the invisible exhibitionist is available through lulu.com or contact me for an autographed copy. 

image is “feral” one of the self-portraits from my book

enough

i watched him fall down
a full flight of stairs once
& land on his feet
i was totally attracted
to how self-destructive
he was
that tended to be
my favorite part of people
the part i could
recognize

the part i could

understand

that wanting to erase yourself….
i took him home that night

that falling down drunk night
i lured him away
from the other girls
with their naughty reputations
“for his own good” i told myself
i lured him with promises of blowjobs
it was the second time 
& last time
we would have sex
for as much as i loved him
& obsessed over him
for all the years i spent following him
with my heart on my sleeve

it turns out
he wasn’t self-destructive enough

to love me back.

notta not-a-boy page three

okay. another month with only one page to show for it! my tarot cards keep telling me not to waste a gift. is it pretentious of me to assume they are talking about all the awesome comics that i am not getting written?

feral

i have been enjoying doing ink on canvas. it is a different process. i have to think more about what i am doing. i guess i’m exercising a new part of my art brain.
this one was inspired by a journal page. i’m not exactly sure what is going on. i keep staring at it & trying to figure the story out.
my art is always always always about the story.
speaking of which. i have been doing some brainstorm doodling. i am on the verge of a new comic (that might be a mishmash of many other ideas from other stories playing in my head these past seven years.) right now it is percolating…& doodling….

up top: “veronica”
16×20 inking on canvas
$200 plus shipping

dove soup

the dove sits on the telephone wire
watching me do yoga, poorly
like i was feeling out of sorts
& yoga only confirmed
how badly my mind & body
are aligned. how ungrounded
how uncentered i am
& the bird watches all of it
through my picture window…
usually a lone mourning dove
is a comfort
an echo of my own lonely heart
but today it feels like a taunting
a mockery
& all i want to do
is shoot the damn thing off of its
spy’s perch
& have dove soup for lunch.

farts

life moves forward
art helps keep me sane
as well as writing random things down
for me
to remember
like
in my household
“it is only funny when i fart”
says everyone.

time for me to shine

truth is
i’m more comfortable
in the dark
more at home
in the shadows
truth is
i’m afraid to look
at myself
in the light
afraid you will see
all the broken parts
of me
truth is
i think i belong
in the dark
hidden
but the truth is
it is time
for me
to shine.

this is the follow up piece to the last one i posted.
this is something i am doing a lot of inner work on right now. bringing myself into the light. discovering my own magic. letting go of the fear i have held on to for so long. the fear of myself.

the door out of the darkness

emerge from the dark
go through that open door
fly higher
urges the hawk

yesterday i was talking to a friend about the invisible exhibitionist
telling the story once more about how i first became invisible
i was the fourth of six children; i was the third of four daughters.
i was a quiet child.
once i asked my mother why my younger sister got whatever she wanted. “the squeaky wheel gets the grease,” my mom answered.
rightfully so–this pissed me off. it made me more determined not to be a squeaky wheel but to earn reward by my own merit & my own hard work. to be noticed for being remarkable…not for being loud & obnoxious.
so i waited quietly for said reward.
sigh.
i have stayed invisible all my life out of spite…and no one has noticed.
now i find myself unwilling to promote myself for the same (misguided?) reason.
i don’t want to get noticed just for being the fucking squeaky wheel. i want to be noticed for being amazing….

additionally!
my latest meditation revealed that not only am i afraid to be noticed. but also i have purposely hidden myself for fear that if i am somehow noticed, i will be deemed unworthy of attention. i am more comfortable in the dark than i am in the light.

i knew this on some level already, but now i feel it is time to drag that belief out and really work it over.

my energy worker told me i am all twisted up right now.
maybe it is time for me to twirl myself out into the light.

coming soon!

tara over at raw earth ink sent me a sample of things to come for my next publication
the invisible exhibitionist!
so exciting!
for you who weren’t with me from 2017 through 2019, i was obsessively inking self-portraits & vomiting free verse in an attempt to root out the damage that kept me broken.
i wrote about everything & anything that went through my head or that i felt inside me.
i exorcised as many demons as i could find
& ended up making friends with a few of them.
i did almost 500 pages of self-portraits.
during 2020, i hung up a show at a local art spot & more than one person told me it should be a book.
so!
it’s going to be a book.
every time i read what i wrote back then, it makes me cry all over again. i was a raw as i could be.
and i share that rawness in hopes that someone who needs to see it will. in hopes that i can help at least one person not feel alone.
i am looking forward to seeing it all together in one book.

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