the storm

standing in the rainstorm
accepting
i am powerless
wind whipping
blowing against me
speaking to me
urging me to listen
i hesitate
…i hesitate
i wish i did not
hesitate
to follow the urging
of the wildness
of the storm
urging me to follow
my own
wildness
to pay no attention
to those who might
judge me
to run free
…i will not hesitate
again.

hopefully i will not hesitate again. when i wrote this, i felt pretty sure…but i worry i am not as bold as i pretend to be. i guess time will tell.
i wrote this the day after the flood as i stood on my porch & watched (& participated in) yet another rainstorm. the last serious one for now. i felt i needed to be out in the storm, to interact with the water, so that the creek would not feel it was necessary to come visit me again.
i am happy to report my yard is finally drying up after a week of beautiful weather.
i am no longer afraid of a sinkhole opening up in my lawn.

day seventy-two

day seventy-two at madness manor
& the creek
came for a visit
i watched
helplessly
worst case scenarios
playing on loop
in my head…
the water didn’t care
it came up
from the ground
it came over the bridge
just to let me know
how powerless
i am
just to let me know
what’s important
& how
ultimately
i just need to let go
to trust.

so super scary! i knew going in there would be some flooding, & i would get water in my basement…but to actually watch the creek rise…& rise…& not stop rising until it was knocking on my backdoor….
scary as fuck.
water is a powerful element, y’all.

that last one is my backyard.
i am so so so very grateful there was no real damage–just mud in my basement & things knocked around by the water.
i don’t know how often this will happen. a city worker told me that the bridge is at fault & needs to be widened.
thing is, i live in a valley with a creek and when heavy rains come, they wash off of all those hills & into the creek & the water comes from near & far to accumulate right by my house.
& these days, the heavy rains come more & more often.

nevertheless, i still feel lucky to live here.
i still love madness manor–more even now that i have seen her handle this flood.

wrung out

my core
is a sponge
full of sorrow
saturated
dripping wet
with
sorrow
heavy
dense
with sorrow
wishing
wanting
to be wrung
dry.

i really love this inking of mine (i did not care for yesterday’s.)
i do not love feeling this immense sadness. “doing it alone is no fun,” i told someone after lamenting not being able to fix a dripping faucet.
day whatever at madness manor, i went to the “restore” to shop for flooring & plumbing for my once & future kitchen. then i realized that i was surely going to buy the wrong thing if i tried to buy anything. i had no idea what i was doing.
so i sat down & cried in a comfy chair. then i bought said comfy chair & went home.

home restoration is going especially slowly at madness manor.

ps. happy birthday to me xo

so sorry

i’m sorry things are rough right now
i tell them
i’m sorry
i’m always saying
sorry things are rough right now
i tell them
wondering
what will ever change
in order
to eliminate my profuse
apologies
are things
really
ever
not going to be rough?
what would that even look like?
i become a best selling author?
an internationally respected artist?
i find my prince charming
and his gallant steed?
& that’s when i realize
any hopes
for smooth sailing
are basically
fairy tales
& i cover my bases
by apologizing
once more.

seriously. is rough just the way my life is meant to be? do i keep doing it to myself? i mean, i could have kept renting & not have to deal with a house in need of attention…but of course, then i would still have the stress of renting….
and if we start down the road of coulda shouldas we are going to fall right down a rabbit hole and i have already spent way too much time in that rabbit hole….

so!
things are rough. they might always be rough. i guess, what i just need to do (to use yet another metaphor), is to develop my sea legs. ride out those rough waters.
enjoy the fucking ride even.

nesting (day 17)

day seventeen at my shambles
of a nest
&
i see his fabulous nest
& though i do not think of him
as a potential mate
i look at him
preening
in front of his
fabulous nest
& think
hmmmm…
maybe?
& for the first time ever
i understand those women
who choose mates
by their fancy cars
& their fancy houses…
but
still
at the end of the day
i fly home
to my dilapidated nest
because
it is mine
it is home.

true story. i love my house. maybe i love it most of all because it is mine. but i do love madness manor and even enjoy looking at my gutted walls & imagining what will happen there.

i’ve been reading up on salvaged homes. i love the idea of finding materials that need a home rather than buying materials that are designed for mass production.
my home will one day be it’s own work of art.

shits & giggles

little victories today
folding laundry
washed
at the old house
& travelled
to the new
little victories
mopping the mud
off of the bathroom floor
mud left by a flood
three
years
ago
mud from rivers & hills
mud that has lived in this house
longer
than i have
& with modest
success
driftless mud
mopped up
for shits & giggles
not out of any sense
of duty
it’s my bathroom
i wanted to see what it would
look like
sans mud.

i keep looking at all the things i need to do (boxes piled & still packed; walls with screws & nails that need removal/repair; a door that needs hung so one can poop in peace; etc.) and just kinda shrug. meh. i’ll get to it eventually. i’m hanging around this place for awhile. i can take my time figuring things out.
it’s nice not to rush. not to freak out. not to listen to the anxiety telling me i better get it done or else.

so in 2018, one of those freak storms happened that dumped tons of water in a short amount of time. as a result, three? dams in the driftless broke and water filled the little town i now call home. the water filled the basement of this house & went up to the third step as it creeped toward the second floor. walls, cabinets, appliances, and carpeting was destroyed & ripped from the house three years before i met it.
i like to think of it as a baptism for my house. a beginning, not an ending.
i lived in illinois at the time.
in the flatlands.
some think i’m crazy for choosing to move to a valley where one is warned not to put anything they care about in the basement.
but i like valleys. i feel safer there. more at peace.
why does someone from the flatlands of illinois crave the lush intimacy of a valley? well, durp, why wouldn’t they? i have seen enough plains & cornfields. i have had enough big sky & unstoppable winds.

today the kids & i played in a beautiful creek & watched the shadows of the clouds roll over the hills and i said to them, “aren’t we lucky! we live here!”

day seven

day seven at madness manor
sexy…so not sexy
my house is sexy
not i
forgive me my sins
my trespasses
i would better serve you
if i were
sexy
fuck.
i’m lonely
…if i buy it
build it
will he come?
my handy
man
yes?
to my sexy
house.

so i started being a “free-aholic” in the spirit of “freegans” …in that i am only drinking when the alcohol is free. so i’ve been mostly sober lately.
however
my ex husband brought me a six pack of strong beer when he came to take the minions.
this poem is the result of drinking two of those too closely together.
yikes.
but i do feel very lonely. i look at myself, alone, and i feel such a profound pain. i think maybe my pain can be heard. like a siren’s song?
ah. a journal page for another day.

(this was written on day seven, but posted on day 12)

if i should fall down

yesterday i paid cash
for a house
an entire house
well, almost…
& today
i am giddy as fuck
the house is mine
if it should fall down
i will put it back up again
for every damage done to it
i will make repairs
because
the house is mine
after years of feeling lost
today, at least,
i feel as if i have found
my way
home.

i wrote this almost ten days ago & inked it a day or so after that…but i have not posted it because i was feeling sick of my art. that happens. yesterday i took another look at it & decided to post it.
also
i haven’t gotten much art done as my mind is all wrapped up in this house. thinking about solar power…thinking about rocket mass heating…thinking about a traditional farmhouse style of kitchen…thinking about replacing walls with shelves…tackling the yard gone wild…counting the trees & celebrating them…finding kindred spirits to put their energy into this massive project….
it can totally preoccupy a person.
but!
i do want to keep working on my art & my writing. so i am catching up on journal pages, working on my novel, and thinking about future projects that don’t require heavy lifting….

sky goddess

i’m entering in to
a long term
relationship
with a structure
all relationships
terrify me
but also fill me
with an
intoxicating bliss…
anything could happen
me & my house
two damaged
soul mates
looking to be
whole.

the house sale went smoothly, & i was able to buy a house with a cashier’s check (thanks dead mom & dead dad.) the price was super low…one step above foreclosure. i felt sad for the woman who had to sell it, but she seemed at peace with it.
i’m super excited…giddy…a little numb….
i’m hoping i don’t crash again. new house. new book. an earth day art show this weekend. things going a little too smoothly.

potential

potential
a deep pool
a vast meadow
sneak peek
behind
the veil
what could be
so seductive
& alluring
potential
a romance
i cannot
resist.

as i write & schedule this post, it is a couple of days before the closing on my house. but as it posts, i am at the title company handing over the largest check i have ever written to make this house my own.
the house is chock full of potential…just like me!
i am very excited about this new adventure…when i’m not having back to back panic attacks.

here is what my house looks like now:

and here is a photo i just found on google maps that shows what it looked like before it was damaged & abandoned:

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