between homes

summer 2015
while trying to convince the dad to move away
leaving a “commonwealth” scam
leaving a doorstep haunted by a predatory woman
leaving a sadness that soaked my bones
just leaving, i begged
or not…
i tried to to convince the dad to move away
somewhere cheaper
far away from his predatory “other woman”
i tried
& failed
he would not leave her
& stupidly
i agreed on a rental that would not be open until
the end of
summer
summer of 2015, between homes
bouncing around
crashing, house-sitting, visiting relatives
only to land again
in my own
sadness

i have been thinking of that summer, if only to remind myself that i have been “between homes” with four children before…& survived.
i am hoping that this time i do not land again in my own sadness.
the dad has been trying to convince me to come live with him again….
right???
what insanity would that be?
i have broken free of him & to give up that freedom would surely mean the end of me…
but, i might have to turn to him for temporary shelter. i am trying to find other options, but having a safe place for the minions to be trumps all other concerns. & where the minions go….
i’m trying to be excited about a change, even an uncertain one. i mean, i am excited about it…but also worried sick. i turn every scenario over & over in my head. i do everything in my head, first, preparing myself for anything unexpected.
this is how i survive.

to help support my traveling circus & our search for a forever home, check out my patreon page where i am working on character development of a comic book hero who has been in my head for about five years now….

and being a patron of mine of the $5 a month or more, gets you personalized art postcards like these:

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new moon magic

i call my challenger
i look inside
i call you
wild womyn
to be my challenger
to face my fears
to break down
self-imposed walls meant
to keep me from
action
call me to arms
wild womyn
i am ready
***
i call my healer
i look inside
i call you
unblemished girl
who is still whole &
not
broken
i call you to teach me
again
to whisper magic
to the world around me
to listen
to hear
& to heal
the hurt
deep inside
i am ready.

it’s a new moon. as i work “the healing wheel” i have struggled to do this part. calling my challenger & my healer. so i decided to look inside & see what i could find.
the challenger was easy. i have felt her in there all through my life. now i just have to embrace her & listen to what she has to say.
the healer was a bit trickier as i sought a mother figure, however…
an internal mother figure is strangely absent (thanks, mom) but i found this little version of me. the one who would tromp around the woods rescuing animals & talking to trees. i think she is my healer. i think she will help make me whole again.

so a little witchy woo on this new moon as i continue to try to survive & heal my broken with my art journal self-portraits.
(in case you’d forgotten why i am obsessively drawing myself)

my brain hurts (but my heart wants all the attention)

demented
deranged
like a mix tape
stuck on a loop
picking petals
off of flowers
loves me
loves me not
surely loves me
now
surely surely
at least a little?
how about now?
at least give me my heart
back
i’m surely sure
i need it
if i want to survive
this
demented
deranged
long ride on a
short
track
& please don’t
leave
me
alone
to figure out
the end
all on my
own.

in our ever-loving & slightly incestuous wordpress community, there is the inevitable inspiration via another blog.
after reading mike’s post about icarus, i was all like, crap–i haven’t done me as icarus yet.
so here you go.
i am the sun (look at me shine) that i fly too close to…but, my wings are not melting. goddammit, i am not falling. i am going to fly right into my own light. just you watch me.

great gatsby!

okay chickadee
make a choice
drink whiskey
or
play around on
dating sites…
no more
swiping under the influence
for you
yes, lonely eats like a
velociraptor
at your heart
& every
one
could be
might be
the one
especially
after a couple of glasses
of whiskey
but
don’t waste you
don’t waste your creative
energy
on men who don’t even stop
to listen
to your magic…
so
drink your whiskey
alone
& write
& draw
& paint
your lonely
your beauty
your masterpiece of you.

happy new year, y’all. here’s me as a flapper with some side boob. let’s see if that holds you over until 2019.
this is about as close to having a new year’s resolution as i get.

(i’m not drinking alone; the fruit flies are dying for some whiskey.)

emotional cargo pants

sometimes i think
i must be crying
someone else’s
tears
must be feeling
someone else’s
pain
must be haunted
by someone else’s
ghosts
how could one person
feel
this
much?
maybe i am cursed
maybe i am blessed
maybe it is
my destiny
to pocket
not just my own
suffering
but a piece
of everyone else’s
as well
people who don’t have
all the pocket space
i do
i must be a pair
of emotional
cargo pants
used to carry
all the woes
of the
world.

you know,  emotional cargo pants to go with my sweater of depression. to be found in my neurotic wardrobe.

this one’s a bit messier than usual. the thought was difficult for me to express in the right way. i suspect there is a spectacularly poetic way to do it…but i am falling short & struggling with it.
additionally, my rapidograph pens were being assholes….as is in their nature, but i still love them.

moses jones…episode three page eight

another page! i like how this one turned out. i don’t always like my work (shhh, that will be our little secret) but i really like this page.

(yes, my art is messy–mostly on purpose–but, again, some of the ink stains are actually from my scanner & my seeming inability to clean it)

my ophelia fantasies

why do i find
thoughts of death
my own death
by my own hand
so comforting?
when i am
weeping & wailing
& life seems so
so fucking unbearable
i just think of laying down
in the stinky
green
pond
back yonder
the one
the ducks
won’t even swim in…
just a short nap
y’all
then i’m sure
i will be as right as rain.

this is a comic i did. one page of confusion perfume. i wrote it a long long time ago…before i was a mom.
time has passed. things have changed. but i still have my olphelia fantasies.

episode three…page four….

almost four months later…it’s page four!

if you read the script i posted the other day. here is how it begins.

recap…mojo & the minions went foraging in the woods. moses fought zombies. “accidentally” slaughtered dusty. & they are headed back home when….

so. “consistency” is not my middle name. for anyone looking for my fuck-ups, you may have noticed that at the end of episode two, as they go into the woods, mojo is wearing jeans & a leather coat. however, at the beginning of episode three–seemingly the same day–she is in a skirt & no jacket. and, same day or not, it is doubtful she took a change of clothes into the woods.

i dunno.
maybe i will one day re-do episode two?
maybe?
or it will be a drinking game. find the inconsistency, take a drink.

what is your zombie-fighting preference? jeans or a skirt? leather jacket or no?

moses jones…homicidal mama

in march i re-started the third episode of moses jones: apocalyptic mama with this page. before that i had gotten several pages into a third episode only to realize i didn’t like the direction & wanted to change it…. plus my real life relationship went from trying to work it out again–to finally giving up on it for good.

so i killed off dusty rather than reuniting with him as i had started to….

mjp41

plus i wanted to rework the artwork a bit & return to some of the more edgy art i had used for the mojo prototypes.

mjversus

i wrote three pages of the new episode…then petered out in the spring of this year. but all of a sudden, as i am laying in bed trying to fall asleep, i have started writing new pages in my head. i know what is going to happen now! yay! but the problem with comics is…it takes for fucking ever to get from point a to point b. you know, layout, blue pencil, rough drafts, and 17 pages just to express one idea. and if you are a luddite like me–doing the whole thing with pen & brush on paper rather than using a computer program…eternity.

but!
i have started writing the script & it is just flowing out of me.
so…here’s a little of what is going to happen next.
(if you are interested & want to know what is going on, i have two pages on this site dedicated to moses jones. i am not sure about the artwork…but you can at least catch up on the plot so far.)

moses jones…episode three…homicidal mama

moses & the minions come out of the woods and over a rise to see the house ahead of them.
moses stops.
the minions stop around her.
moses: something is wrong
they are all quiet & still
fidgit: i hear a baby crying
moses picks up misha & breaks into a run.

moses: what happened?
susan: lucy…she’s–
malcolm: where were you? why weren’t you here? you should have been here!
moses: where’s lucy?
malcolm: she’s dead! you weren’t here. we needed you. but fucking moses jones has to do what moses jones has to do. fuck what everyone else needs.
moses: what happened? where is she?
malcolm: do i look like a doctor? she died. she had a baby & it killed her.
susan: (whispers)
there was so much blood.
malcolm: shut the fuck up, susan.
moses: what about the baby? is the baby okay?
malcolm: fuck the baby!
moses: can i see lucy? can i see the baby?
malcolm: no! (stalks off)
moses: (to susan) has he let anyone see her?
susan: cheetah is in there. he is cleaning her up.
moses: where’s the baby?
susan: (shrugs) maybe with one of the others? oh! i think amanda has it.
moses: who’s amanda?
susan: some girl that dusty brought here while you were gone. she stayed here when he went looking for you. did he find you?
moses: (without hesitation) no.
susan: so he’s still out there?
moses: i don’t know. so where’s this girl then? wait–was dusty supposed to let me know lucy was in trouble? was he supposed to find me to get me back here?
susan: um…i think…i think her labor had started…i don’t think he knew that was a problem? he showed up right after you left. him & that girl. i don’t remember for sure what was next. he went to get you though. you didn’t see him out there?
moses: no. so what happened? what went wrong?
susan: she was in all kind of pain. she said something was wrong. she knew something was wrong. she collapsed. then she had the baby. then she started bleeding & wouldn’t stop. there was nothing we could do. i don’t know why malcolm blames you. i don’t know what you could have done.
moses: he’s in pain. he needs to blame someone. maybe it is my fault.
susan: there’s nothing you could have done.
moses: you don’t know that. if i had gotten back in time–

so there it is. my work in progress. now i have to finish writing script & start thinking about layout.
i will probably skip the blue pencil…y’all should know how much i love my mistakes.

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