INKtober tenth

sometimes
i feel like
no matter how hard
i try to be
a good person
try to do things
right
no matter what
i am doomed
to failure
&
i’m really trying
that’s the thing
being a good
person
is important
to me
so these
suspicions
that i am
fucking
it
all
up
anyway
are especially
devastating.

it was suggested by a beloved follower that my self-portraits could maybe smile. i couldn’t think up a smart ass response…so i drew one.

i used to smile constantly. i have extreme social anxiety & smiling was my way of satisfying the hordes that could not understand how terrified i was of small talk & social interactions. plus, being a girl in this culture, i was told to “smile” every time i did not smile. so i was one big explosion of smiles.
i remember one snarky girl at a party i was at when i was in my early 20s–i happened to be dating the guy she desired…but did not know that at the time–saying loudly, “does she do anything other than smile?”

death, single motherhood, betrayal, & heartache seriously dampened my smile. i sometimes find it extremely difficult to smile, in fact. sometimes smiling makes me cry.

but sometimes an authentic smile burbles up.
sometimes.

meanwhile. this is me. this is the smile i can muster without crying, too much.

constructive criticisms from a soon-to-be five year old who was watching over my shoulder as i drew this…
“you look nothing like her.”
“you’re not even trying.”

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marry me?

quick
someone marry me
i can’t bear to wait
a minute more
i can’t bear
the idea
of having to meet
& go through the whole dance
just
quick
someone run away with me
let’s pretend we’ve known each other
all our lives
let’s just skip the awkward parts
go straight to the good stuff
the happily ever after
you’ll have time
to figure me out
i’ll have time
to learn everything
about you
just
quick
someone spend the rest of this life
with me
i need a 25 year long marriage
by tomorrow
if possible.

i commented “marry me?” on an artist’s instagram photo. i couldn’t help it–she is a beautiful red-haired woman who does these fantastic water color pictures of smiling 1950s era women with black eyes & other suspicious injuries.
i’m just going to start asking every fabulous person to marry me. someone is bound to say yes.
i did this one thanksgiving when i couldn’t bear the thought of another family thanksgiving. i went out to a bar and asked everyone for an invitation to their thanksgiving. the bartender ended up inviting me to his–which was being cooked by his roommate who was a renowned chef in town (lexington, ky.) i also got laid & went on to stalk said bartender…but that is another story.
other than the heartbreak of accidentally falling in love only to be dumped after thanksgiving for his lesbian gal pal, i think i did pretty well.
so i plan to take that approach & apply it to my next marriage.

ps. the water color artist has yet to reply. i may have freaked her out.

a love poem

he
uses a feather
i
use a hammer
he
teases
& tempts me
i
just whack the fuck
out of him
leaving
him
senseless.

i so tried to draw me all “come hither” and completely failed. i am so not “come hither.” i am the hammer of love. i look like a threat…not a promise.
sigh.
i don’t know how to flirt.
i don’t know how to be subtle.
i’m just all, “ya wanna fuck?”
seriously.
i am not good at relationships…i scare the fuck out of men.
i wrote this because i texted someone tonight to try to entice him to come here to be my date for the reunion tomorrow.
oh my god, y’all. i am so so bad at this. i come on way too strong.
however…guy did not say “no.” so cross your fingers for my having a date to my reunion…of course, for my ten year reunion, i found a date…but i never went to the reunion…i just got laid instead.
so wish me luck!

confusion is nothing new

once i wrote a poem.
it really was a poem…or at least i thought so. i was twenty-four and was full of light & hope & tragedy. i borrowed the title from a line in the cyndi lauper song time after time,  “confusion is nothing new.” i love that line.
i lay alone in my room at night, and i wrote this poem.

teeth and gums and nakedness
nothing new
a series of dreams
that never come true
but can i really say
that i never get what i want?
when wants change
and needs are undecipherable?
needs
i’d like to get what i need
teeth and gums and nakedness
men following men
through my room
moonlight
sunlight
lamplight
condom wrappers
and nothing fulfilled
but i got what i wanted
for 30 seconds
teeth and gums and nakedness

i have been thinking about this poem a lot. twice as many years later. written half-way to here. i wonder if anything has changed. really. love seems just as meaningless today. just as trivial. i have given it so many many chances and all i have in the end is teeth & gums & nakedness.
still.

david’s battle

the seemingly
incessant
drone
as crop dusters
raid the air
above me
the earth
around me
coated in their
poisonous wake…
& i listen
to the silence
they leave behind
straining & hoping
for the hum
of pollinator’s wings
& the song
that once filled
the night air
from my frog-filled pond
dead quiet greets me now
& i lay awake
for all the noise
in my fevered
mind.

on my okcupid profile there is a question asking “what will you be arrested for?” i have a new answer now, “shooting down crop dusters.”
i am having such fantasies of holding a shotgun & taking off their tail feathers. in my mind i confront the farmers who hire them over & over, tearing their asses off most eloquently.
but i remain motionless. what do i do? i feel like i am confronting a giant that cannot even see me. i pray to the universe to give me strength & faith, but i feel so fucking hopeless about the world right now.
the crop dusters are just the super annoying poisonous icing on the cake.

i love how fierce i look in this self-portrait. i want to be that fierce. also, just sos you know…i have a lot of trouble drawing inorganic objects. that’s about as good as it gets.

creases & folds

i’m lost
in the creases
& folds
of a world that i just don’t
fit
into
lost & confused
by spaces where i should
fit
but
just don’t.

so last week, i was a miserable mess.
i think i am starting to recover. i usually feel better on a new moon. you know, new beginnings & all that. forever the hopeful nihilist.
but there are a few more journal pages from this time of feeling…so fucking lost. lost & forgotten. never to be found. a horrible horrible feeling. i hate feeling lost.
so you know.
that’s coming up.
but i feel much better today.