a visit to my dark side….

i don’t think very many of my current readers were reading me back when this blog was obsessively dealing with my ex-husband’s infidelity.
my ex-husband had a relationship
with a crazy stalker chick (other than me.)
she would leave little presents
yes, like a cat
for him on our doorstep
& other various places
she would hide in the bushes
& wait for him
i would even find things hanging from trees
in our neighborhood
intended for him.
i became more than slightly unhinged by it all
i began searching his pockets regularly
kidnapping his phone
searching the neighborhood for clues (she liked to graffiti his name about the place)
& throwing various objects (keys to her apartment, love trinkets, & even his phone)
into the river by our house
it ended up being–i’m sure much to the delight of my narcissistic ex–a battle of the stalker chicks
hitting a climax when i found them together
kicked her in the knee
broke my own arm in the process
& got charged with disorderly conduct.
i will never forget having to talk to two cops on my doorstep–having them ask what everyone asks
why didn’t i kick him??
that’s how sick i was with the whole thing. sick & crazy & completely manipulated into being someone i was not.
why do i bring this up?
dude. there is a torn piece of a shirt stuck in the tree branches of one of the silver maples in front of my house, and it is all i can do to not have flashbacks to her weird little leavings meant for him ….

i’m trying to learn how to not hate him…maybe this is the universe’s way of challenging that?

in other news.
i have an appointment to look at a house in an idyllic little town in iowa. it’s an area heavy with norwegian roots–so i’m thinking–lumberjacks??? (or i dig vikings too)
i thought about putting up a new okcupid profile in the area seeing if i could find someone to help me unload my moving truck should i get this house i am looking at on sunday….

oh! & before i forget…stuff over on my patreon page:

broken mirrors

i keep reaching
to exes
as if the contact
i have
with the ones
i still
isn’t irritating
why do i want
to fill my time
fill my life
& broken

more practice with my bamboo pen. slowly slowly learning from my mistakes.
i have that little voice saying, “don’t do that–be careful!”
& i ignore it & fuck it all up…much like my dating life.
slowly slowly i learn from my mistakes.

i have been working out a lot about my approach to relationships & my obsession with exes lately. long fucking overdue–& just in time for valentine’s day.

i borrowed from evelyn de morgan again for this inking.

crusty & morose

my soul
is dislocated
i cannot feel
but a raging fire
with light showers
of disgust
& several hues
of irritation
life feels like
that i am hungry
to eat
some of
but then the rest
is left
to become
a half-finished

it’s like a drinking game for mixed metaphors. ha! i am starting to feel better. doing art has relieved some of my angst. but it is still there. seeping. dripping. getting under my foundation and uprooting all my so-called progress (i had to throw in another fucking metaphor.)
i feel ugly & fat & my hair is just stupid & everything sucks.
i will keep drawing & see if i can ink myself out of this corner. (does that count as a metaphor?)

credit to evelyn de morgan for the illustration today. she is pretty awesome & all of her artwork just oozes gloom & doom.

fallen IV

like the rest
of them
you crawled into this world
through a woman
fully expecting
to crawl out again
through grave
you knew you were
with your imaginings
of your
with your hearing
with your little
but all kids do that
angels are wonderful
but you always felt
more at home
playing with
you never expected
that this was a
tell-tale sign
of your

i recently learned about an artist named eveyln de morgan (which is an awesome name.) she did some amazing work. i realized i
actually used her work once before, when i did myself as helen of troy.
this one here is inspired by another one of her paintings, clytie.
she did a lot of religious style works.
i might be borrowing from her a bit more during this series.

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑