INKtober seventh

holy crap
what if
what if
you can’t do
normal
what if dysfunctional
is the only
speed
you move at?
you say you want
stable & secure
but then
then
you secretly shop for
fucked up
you crave crazy
you love the lunatics
lists of issues
are a turn-on
is this your sickness?
is this something
you can recover from?
or is damaged
&
broken
just the way you
roll
your own
warped
happy
ish
ending.

went with my love of egon schiele again for inspiration on this self-portrait. it seemed suitable for a post on my love of damaged people.

swimming in the grey matter sloshing about in my head…makes for a interesting though entirely confusing trip.

 

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do you think hallmark is hiring?

my second inking inspired by/copied off of the egon schiele’s “mother & child.”

this one looks more sinister…which suits the topic, i suppose. i titled it “hallmark moment.”

so ink brush is a bit more tricky to manipulate than ink pen. i accidentally gave myself a very waspish waistline.
i do not, nor have i ever had, a waspish waistline.
in fact, i remember very clearly when i was in high school gym class and the instructor was measuring our waists before a fitness & nutrition chapter of the class. she looked for awhile, trying to find mine. finally she declared me “high-waisted.” i think she just gave up on finding my waist.
when i was twenty, i was working as a nurse’s aide in a care facility. i had a shaved head at the time. a lot of the folks with alzheimer’s were confused about me. but one day, while helping one gentleman, i was pronounced to be, “a stout, young lad!” he said it as if i should take it as a compliment. i found it hysterical & have touted myself as such ever since.

basically, i have a very dense & solid frame. i always have & always will. even at my lightest weight while still being healthy, i was 145 pounds. it’s just genetics. you should see my dad.
on the plus side, i am pretty indestructible, physically anyway….

tinder-hearted

i am a three-legged chair
that he
kicked over
it’s not his fault
i was damaged when i met him
i told him
it’s not his fault
but holy fuck
did he have to break me
more?
so
here i am
now
a pile of tinder
good for what?
if i’m optimistic
if i’m romantic
maybe i could light someone’s way
maybe i could keep someone warm
maybe i could find
a carpenter’s heart
to build me
into something
something
beautiful?
light
warmth
structure…
sure, i could do this alone
light me, warm me, build me
up
& i have done it
alone
but i keep thinking
wouldn’t it be more fun
with two?

egon schiele’s “mother & child” is my inspiration for this self-portrait (oh! it’s a mother & child…knowing egon schiele’s work, i thought it was something more pervy.)

img080

i used the painting for two pieces i did last night. this one turned out all come-hither. you will see the other one later today in my next post. it turned out way more sinister looking. perhaps the difference of ink pen on paper vs. ink brush on canvas? or perhaps the spirit of the two different pieces i was working on?

anyhoo.

i know i am supposed to do all this work on who i am & heal my own damage rather than to lose myself in yet another relationship. and goddammit, i have been working on it…forever, it seems. so don’t judge me for fantasizing about healing with someone else rather than continuing to heal alone.

wouldn’t it be nice if i weren’t the only one trying to piece together my bits? if i could find a kind soul(mate) to soothe my tinder-heart?

maybe i should wonder why i have so much conflict about this. both longing for & judging myself for longing for a romantic relationship (hold the narcissistic asshole.) ack! more journal pages coming up….

local critiques on my artwork:
fidgit: you’re drawing your butt again?
misha: is that a spider in your butt?

splattered

i may be naked
but that doesn’t mean
you can touch me
i may be vulnerable
but that doesn’t mean
i will love you
i don’t have to be
flattered
that you noticed i
splattered
myself
all over my world
just because i want to share
my pain
doesn’t mean i am inviting you
to join the melee
i may be
desperate
but i am not
serious
i may be hungry
but i am not
starving.

i found the perfect egon schiele selfie to use for this self-portrait. i wish i had done it justice.

egon!

in my defense, where he has angles, i have curves. oh well.

also, credit to my childhood love, adam ant, for the “desperate but not serious” quote.

here’s the thing. i hate it that someone (usually a man…but i don’t want to generalize…okay, i do…but i won’t) looks at my art, reads my words, and then assumes he knows who i am and what i need.
ack!
it was worse when i was “young.”
then they all wanted to tell me who i was.
now it’s not too common, but laying myself bare through my art & writings does invite the lingering glance, so to speak…or the perv-y stare, rather.
anyhoo!
i am way more complicated than a ba-jillion self-portraits with badly versed thoughts. like any exhibitionist, there is more to me than meets the eye.

building walls & burning bridges, possible title for my memoirs? “no man is an island,” my ma liked to say to me. “i’m a peninsula, mom,” i would reply…and i like it that way.