church of the lawnscape

i know now
why we’re so fucked up
as a society…
it’s that we don’t get the therapeutic
meditative
cardio
workout
of mowing our lawns with a reel mower
& scythe
dude…
i’m serious here
as a hand dish washing
line hanging out laundry
reel mowing
she-ra
i am here to tell you
listen as i preach it
an easy life
is no life at all
work it, people
work it….

as the main representative of the church of the reel mower & sole member/candidate of the thunderdome political party….
i do need to start recruiting.

seriously, y’all. i just want someone to praise me…worship me…speak my name with such devotion….

i don’t know if y’all can see it, but i am mowing a little every day around the house to create some yard so the minions don’t have to go in the weeds if they don’t want to.
i am completely ocd about it. i get out there with that fucking mower & i cannot stop. then, when i finally do, every muscle in my body says, “goodnight.”
it’s clearing my head as i clear some lawn.
i really do think we as a society have lost our priorities. someday i will get that church going–get that political party started….
in the meantime, i am feeling fine.

also! i finished the seascapes i was commissioned to do.

in other news, i have been thinking a lot about direction. i feel that my self-portrait series is wrapping itself up. even though i was told to pay no attention to the critique that questioned my writing abilities
(thank you for your support, xxoo), i have been thinking about it. i want a strong narrative to go with my self-portrait series. so i think i am going to go back through all those journals and try to create that narrative. i don’t know if it will end up being more verse than prose or more prose than verse…or a mix of the two.
but it is time to embrace an ending to it…& also a beginning.

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shark guard

this is not poetry
i am not a poet
i cannot stress that enough
i never imagined myself poetic
never
ever
ever
it’s just that free verse
is such an easy way
to say
what i need
to say
nevermind the rhyme
i am not a poet
not
ever
ever
i just have a lot to say
a lot rattling around
in this brain of mine
& the easiest way
to get it out
is to
just
blurt
in free
verse.

so i got rejected for the second time by the sustainable arts awards for mother artists & writers.
poop
i really really could have used the money.
also, i can only find rentals that say “proof of employment!” telling me i need to be earning three times what the rent is.
the real world just fucking sucks sometimes.
but!
am i down?
am i out?
no. for some fucking rainbow shooting out of unicorn ass’s reason, all i feel is hope.
so fucking weird.

i wrote the above not-a-poem because one of the critiques of the portfolio i submitted to the sustainable arts foundation commented on my sub-par writing while complimenting my artwork.
so!
just trying to keep my spirits high…though, again, weirdly they are staying up all on their own.

the above image is what happened when i tried to do a commissioned seascape that included a mermaid. here is the same seascape yesterday before i changed it:

do you see what i did? i put in another shark. it occurred to me as i was trying to fall asleep, another shark would create a “guard” effect rather than suggesting the mermaid was in trouble. or, at least that is my take-away.

works in progress

i survived mother’s day…just barely
noticing via instagram posts
that i cringe when husbands praise wives
& when i see daughters & mothers together
but am okay with sons & mothers
…hmmm
you don’t need to look twice
to see where my damage is….
but i survived
and will live to see
another
mother’s day
& maybe not be such a
train wreck
next
time….

here are some commissions i am working on. i realize, the more i ink, what my style is exactly–& i try to stay true to it.
i am excited to see how these will turn out…& hopefully the people who commissioned them will be just as excited.

and for those of you wondering about my patreon page:


woe is me

living inside
your own head
you forget
about
the world outside
a world that works against
single low-income moms
a world
that won’t take a risk
on you
no matter
how good your heart
might be
a world that is set up
to grandstand your options
telling you to
follow your dreams
but in the end
leaves you
very few choices
the more kids
you have
the fewer
choices
they say it takes a village
they don’t tell you
that the village
will quickly tack up
a “no vacancy” sign
when they see
you
coming.

how’s the house hunt going?
well, pretty fucking hard since i can’t even get out to look for a place…& then when i look at the average application for a rental & they want a job & income & job history…
all i feel is despair.
i have savings. i have enough to pay a year’s rent. i have sparkly clean credit. i have child support payments. i have government aid. i spend less money–with four kids–than the average u.s. citizen without dependents does. i am frugal as fuck. but i have to get face to face with a real person–the right person–to convince them that this is enough…& being seemingly physically trapped here at hotel california…how the fuck do i make that happen?
i was going to try to run out to iowa today to look for rentals & someone to convince that i am a good tenant. the minions come home tomorrow….
despair says, “why even bother?”
but i can’t just run over to iowa with four kids in tow. iggy hates road trips (he got that from his dad–not me,) & i don’t want to budget in a stay at a motel (though they do love motel tv.)
so three weeks until the next time i am able to run to iowa sans minions…meanwhile, the lawn grows free now as the lawn mower died on me. so i should get that fixed. i don’t even know how to go about that. i so so so hate being all alone out here.
yes, i’m a feminist, but fuck me if i want to do everything myself. i want someone here who knows how to do all the stuff i suck at. i want someone in my life who appreciates what i can do & who i worship for their ability to fix a mower…or clean a toilet…or just hold me & tell me it’s all going to work out when it feels like the world is spinning out of control.
sigh.

if you want to contribute to my “income”…. here are sneak peaks of some of the posts you would be able to see as a patron of mine….

the main image is of a character of mine that hopefully will one day have a story….

gender bending

my first boyfriend
wore face powder
& lip gloss
(i still remember
the smell of kissing him)
his hair
was longer than mine
but once i shaved
off all
my hair
every one of my boys
had hair
longer than mine
because i so loved
the girly boys
with their long
slender
fingers
& their long
batting
eyelashes
every once in awhile
i dated
a chiseled-chin
dimpled cheeks covered
in manly stubble
all the more fun
to dress
them in
lacy lingerie.

this poem was inspired by a completely harmless innocent tiny little crush on my gender fluid editor-to-be…because i wouldn’t be me if i didn’t develop inappropriately intimate feelings for someone i am to be working with….

meanwhile, the ryan renolds movie marathon continues. (i watched the nines last night & loved it. i am pretty sure i am also a nine & that i have created y’all)
i bet ryan renolds would look hot as fuck dressed in “women’s” clothes….

in other news, i am having dizzy spells & my head feels weird…so i’m pretty sure i have a tumor. here is a conundrum…how does a hypochondriac know when they are actually sick? my anxiety manifests as physical symptoms…but what if i really am sick & just dismissing it as stress-induced?…(see how that can spin out fast?)

also, my lawn really really is supposed to be mowed by conventional standards, but i have a hard time thinking about mowing down all those innocent flowers.
if it weren’t for ticks & mosquitoes, i would totally have a wild as fuck lawn.

may the fourth be with you.

running with wolves

i just know you guys
are all
holy fuck will she ever shut up about her patreon page
but
no
here i am again
pimping myself
taunting you with a little taste
to lure you
to spend a some money
on me

the picture above is one of the pages of my latest series, “running with wolves,” where i examine my feral nature.
also, i have done pages on my latest epiphany–the one where i realize i have deluded myself into believing i had “true love”–twice–fucking it up both times.
turns out
i’m not a fuck up…i’m just delusional.
yay!

i am trying, in addition to supporting my own creative nature, to learn to support other artists & writers as well.
if you are interested in some kind of swap, let me know.
you all are totally worth it. reading your stuff & looking at your art brightens my every day & often inspires me.

change is not death

“If you don’t release something voluntarily, it will cause you pain when it is snatched from you against your will.”

this card was driving me crazy because sometimes it feels like all i do is let things go.
what else can i let go of?
then i caught myself going to a dark
dark
place when i saw a friend’s loving post about his wife.
right? why should that cause me pain??
and that is when i realized what i needed to let go of
my fantasy that i had once had
true love
& had lost it through carelessness…
to stop being angry & depressed about losing something
that was never mine
to begin with.

i journaled about it over on my patreon page (more pages to come) & am trying to process it out.

i also have added a couple of more pages in my new series about being feral.

don’t laugh

so
a spirit guide
came to visit
in the form
of a sloth
[don’t laugh]
a sloth
who climbed
up
to give me
a hug
climbed me like a tree
for a hug
& i hugged him
[don’t laugh]
feeling his warmth
& feeling okay
just before
he sunk his
long sharp teeth
into my neck
telling me
“shit happens”
a sweet hug
& a mortal
wound…
that about sums
it
all
up.

i have been playing around with doing past life regression ever since i had the vision of myself being a murdered celtic queen. i downloaded a past life regression meditation & the first time i listened to it, i saw myself as a young boy in georgia of the russian empire around the beginning of the 1900s. desolate & lost & alone. jumping forward, i saw myself as a young intellectual in a city. a revolutionary. executed during the russian revolution.
after the regression, i was guided to meet with a spirit guide. the above free verse describes that encounter….
huh.
i have done the regression once since then. i ended up as the celtic girl/woman again. & i had a completely different spirt guide that time. not nearly so gruesome & creepy.
maybe i will do a page about that as well.

& yesterday i conjured a bald eagle! i have started taking walks several times a week to combat my “middle age” bulge. so me & the minions were walking yesterday when misha asked me what a bald eagle looks like. i described one, but she suggested we could look them up on my laptop when we got home.
i replied, “maybe we will see one on our walk!” we live near a small river & not terribly far from a bigger river & occasionally do see bald eagles. however, it has only been a handful of times in the past couple years.
nevertheless, just five minutes later, a bald eagle flew over us.

pretty fucking cool.

& today is iggy’s birthday.  he is eleven. i never cease to be amazed by my kids in our “buy-nothing-new” & low-impact lifestyle. misha & poppy wrapped up a bunch of their own toys, cash, & candy  to give to iggy. (using the tissue paper that our bamboo toilet paper comes wrapped in.) iggy was thrilled with everything he got.
sometimes i feel like i am doing something right….

IMG_2519

searching for the sun

should i dig my hole
and hibernate?
forever ever after?
or should i grab my
essentials
and set out
in search
of the sun?
my own bright
light.

orignially posted on december 27, 2017
another page for the invisible exhibitionist

IMG_2474

coincidentally, yesterday, on my patreon page i was also writing about my search for the sun…but a more sexy search where i am the moon & my once & future soulmate is the sun….

when i started the re-do of this one, i was like–oh no, this is all wrong…but the more i worked on it, the more i liked it. so i am staying with the new version.

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