crazy broken love

*this is a work in progress

for anyone who wasn’t with me for my whimsical ink stain adventure (all of them are on one of the pages up there) that started with inktober 2016 when i discovered my love for making inkstains and finding pictures in them,
this is what the process looks like.
i make an ink stain, dripping ink randomly on wet watercolor paper.
i let it dry.
then i just stare at it.
for as long as necessary.

it’s therapeutic
and fun
relaxing
and it helps me to expand on my drawing style and discover new creatures.

i haven’t done it in awhile…not since last inktober when i started the month of ink…but then pooped out.
however, i was thinking
just thinking
of writing another letter to seymour
and i started this inkstain as a page on which to write crazy broken poetry about love
for seymour.

i keep asking the universe for a sign that i should either keep up my pilgrimage…or give up on it.
i mean, i guess you could say that seymour’s ignoring of my ongoing expressions of devotion is a sign in itself.
but i would really like something more definite…if that’s not too much to ask.

*i like to post the process of these pictures because it is interesting to me how they develop.

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my life, my universe, my everything

this is an ink stain creation from…when? is there a date on it? there should be a date on it, but i think i cut it off in the scanning of it and the original was used as a piece of stationary to write a letter to seymour.
of course, seymour never responds to my love notes…
maybe if i put a “do you like me back” with a box to check yes and a box to check no.
seymour does not respond to my–i don’t even know what it qualifies as–dedication? obsession? true love? stalking?
who the fuck knows? not this socially backwards chickadee.
i’m sure one of the many mental health professionals that likes to follow my blog could weigh in…but would i listen…probably not.

in other mental health news…
i thought i had popped back out of my depression. i mean, while the minions were with dusty, i was functional and not too mopey. i got things done. i did not spend all day in bed…or drinking…or drinking in bed….
but then i had to see dusty in order to fetch the minions, and that seems to have triggered a fresh depression.
yay.
i just feel so much anger towards him. so much betrayal. so much frustration & helplessness. and i can’t talk to him about it, because he finds a way to turn everything i say to him into a weapon against me.
that is some fucking talent.
so he has been paying for my internet, and we have been using his netflix account. many months, this is the only child support i see from him.
but now his contract with the internet is up, & he is cancelling that as well as his netflex (or so i hear from the minions.)
for some reason, this leaves me feeling so fucking pissed off. so fucking pissed off.
i am already super isolated in the country with four kids. i mean, i assumed his canceling the internet was a financial decision, but a friend suggested it might be for the purposes of further isolating me…and i could not find an argument to the contrary.
abusive men do like to isolate.
however, dusty has not has a job since he lost his job last january by coming down here (and staying past his welcome) when i asked him down to help with my parents. he never even told me there were issues with his job. i only found out much later that he was fired for blowing his job off to come down here.
so, yeah, it’s my fault he was fired.
but then he found another job, recently, but quit it when he thought i might let him move in here. even though i told him it was a maybe and we could talk about it. then of course i was given that big neon sign from the universe that he is still a prick & will always be a prick & what the fuck am i thinking?
but, in the couple of days where i considered it–before sobering up–he went ahead & quit his job.
did he talk to me about it first seeing as his moving to illinois was dependent on my letting him move here?
or seeing as me & the minions are directly affected by his income or lack thereof?
no…mr. “let’s talk” did not talk to me before quitting his job.
and now he likes to mention it as if it is my fault.
it’s my fault he quit his job…of course it is.

okay. rant done.

so now i am depressed again. a garden sits waiting for rain and for me to get off my sad ass to turn the soil & plant more veg. one of my bee hives died and i need to address that. the new chicken coop waits for me to build it. and, of course, sheep…goats…ducks….geese…and minions.

in conclusion, if there is a wealthy benefactor and/or someone handy on a homestead out there waiting to pop into my life, now might be the time.

quixotic cards…

i have no interest
in ever making cards
for money
though if someone wanted to buy some
i wouldn’t say no….

what i mean is…
there seems to be a capitalism bone
missing from my body

i love to do what i love to do
but i don’t want to do it
for money

money is dumb

here is the first card for my february calendar of birthdays. one of my nephews. he has never liked me. i used to take care of him as a baby, & he would so give me the stinkeye. but! always time to build better bridges…until it’s too late, that is….

anyhoo!

i missed at least three birthdays in january. i have managed to make a grand total of two birthday cards this year.
but, hopefully, i will continue this little exercise
in being a better aunt, cousin, sister, friend, & person.

in complete opposition to my short poem about capitalism sucking…i would like to let you know that if you forgot to get me a valentine, it’s not too late. you can buy yourself a copy of the book i illustrated–mistress of mud–to show how much you love me!

succubus

i’m so tired
of these feelings of desperation
these terrible
needs
for connection
what is real?
what is longing?
& what is just a big chasm
something intrinsically wrong
with me?
a hole in me
a black succubus of love
any warm body
will do.

inktober 12

i posted this on the inktober group i am in on facebook, i referenced how conflicted i felt about so much color–as if i were channeling the teletubbies…and…nothing.
not one like.
not one comment.

sigh.

is it me? i put on deodorant…
(actually, not technically deodorant, i use baking soda, coconut oil, and essential oils….)
but you know what i mean.

i would like, at some point before i am dead, to not feel like a complete pariah.

and dusty is coming here to stay for a week. part of me is relieved that there will be another grown up here.
part of me just wants to die because the only relief i get is when the man who helped put me in this fucking situation comes to visit.

mostly, i just feel like crying.

i’m going to go take a shower and cry.

inktober 10th & 11th…ish

there’s a story behind this. but i don’t know what it is.

that was the 11th. for the 10th i phoned it in once more with a half done inking.

inktober10

and it is still not finished.
my life is overwhelming.
i am very angry about being alone. about doing this alone. so angry. and depressed. and feeling like this is it. this is the rest of my life. i am essentially alone–but! i am also stuck with dusty in my life. i am stuck with raising four kids mostly by myself while their dad complains that he wants to be more involved and i have to remind myself that it is a trick. their dad is an angler fish dangling “normal family” in front of me and hoping i will take a nibble. because he never actually gets involved even when he can be involved. he doesn’t. and i have to keep reminding myself of that.
which is a lot of fun.

fuck.

so i’m grumpy and moody and do not feel like doing anything even though i know that doing something would help me to feel better.

just putting pen to paper makes me feel better.