this is my every day.
seriously. in the wee hours, i’m all like, “today will be different!”
by lunchtime i am just another one of the dancing monkeys.
i do like how this one turned out. but i would also re-do it if i could. once that ink is on there–it doesn’t like to change it’s course. that’s why i work in ink rather than watercolors. i like the unforgiving nature of ink–forcing me to live with my mistakes.
update: i did find my missing comics. i found them while looking for a missing pen. i recently unclogged one of my old rapidograph pens after years of it not working.
and now i can’t find it.
it is somewhere nearby…drying out…again.
why do i choose difficult art supplies? maybe for the same reason i birthed difficult children.
i really don’t know…i just know i love them (my pens & my minions.)
in march i re-started the third episode of moses jones: apocalyptic mama with this page. before that i had gotten several pages into a third episode only to realize i didn’t like the direction & wanted to change it…. plus my real life relationship went from trying to work it out again–to finally giving up on it for good.
so i killed off dusty rather than reuniting with him as i had started to….
plus i wanted to rework the artwork a bit & return to some of the more edgy art i had used for the mojo prototypes.
i wrote three pages of the new episode…then petered out in the spring of this year. but all of a sudden, as i am laying in bed trying to fall asleep, i have started writing new pages in my head. i know what is going to happen now! yay! but the problem with comics is…it takes for fucking ever to get from point a to point b. you know, layout, blue pencil, rough drafts, and 17 pages just to express one idea. and if you are a luddite like me–doing the whole thing with pen & brush on paper rather than using a computer program…eternity.
i have started writing the script & it is just flowing out of me.
so…here’s a little of what is going to happen next.
(if you are interested & want to know what is going on, i have two pages on this site dedicated to moses jones. i am not sure about the artwork…but you can at least catch up on the plot so far.)
moses jones…episode three…homicidal mama
moses & the minions come out of the woods and over a rise to see the house ahead of them.
the minions stop around her.
moses: something is wrong
they are all quiet & still
fidgit: i hear a baby crying
moses picks up misha & breaks into a run.
moses: what happened?
malcolm: where were you? why weren’t you here? you should have been here!
moses: where’s lucy?
malcolm: she’s dead! you weren’t here. we needed you. but fucking moses jones has to do what moses jones has to do. fuck what everyone else needs.
moses: what happened? where is she?
malcolm: do i look like a doctor? she died. she had a baby & it killed her.
susan: (whispers) there was so much blood.
malcolm: shut the fuck up, susan.
moses: what about the baby? is the baby okay?
malcolm: fuck the baby!
moses: can i see lucy? can i see the baby?
malcolm: no! (stalks off)
moses: (to susan) has he let anyone see her?
susan: cheetah is in there. he is cleaning her up.
moses: where’s the baby?
susan: (shrugs) maybe with one of the others? oh! i think amanda has it.
moses: who’s amanda?
susan: some girl that dusty brought here while you were gone. she stayed here when he went looking for you. did he find you?
moses: (without hesitation) no.
susan: so he’s still out there?
moses: i don’t know. so where’s this girl then? wait–was dusty supposed to let me know lucy was in trouble? was he supposed to find me to get me back here?
susan: um…i think…i think her labor had started…i don’t think he knew that was a problem? he showed up right after you left. him & that girl. i don’t remember for sure what was next. he went to get you though. you didn’t see him out there?
moses: no. so what happened? what went wrong?
susan: she was in all kind of pain. she said something was wrong. she knew something was wrong. she collapsed. then she had the baby. then she started bleeding & wouldn’t stop. there was nothing we could do. i don’t know why malcolm blames you. i don’t know what you could have done.
moses: he’s in pain. he needs to blame someone. maybe it is my fault.
susan: there’s nothing you could have done.
moses: you don’t know that. if i had gotten back in time–
so there it is. my work in progress. now i have to finish writing script & start thinking about layout.
i will probably skip the blue pencil…y’all should know how much i love my mistakes.
& when i do
i look to him
to catch me
& he’s all
as i go splat
for good measure
he kicks me
while i am down
when i stumble
every time i stumble
i still expect him to catch me?
why do i still
hold that burnt out
why do i still whisper
“happily ever after…”
in my head
hearing that voice
it will be different
he really has
so much that i have employed
just to shout at me
this ain’t fucking
beauty & the beast!”
don’t mind me. just working out some angst towards the ex. you know how it is. i think i’m almost done.
it’s that happily ever after that keeps me down.
not being able to let go of the dream of a perfect family. the great american sitcom family. yeah, there’s some rough times, but in the end, we all love each other.
no matter how i look at it. there is no possible way that what he thinks is love, is love. love doesn’t hurt people. go ahead, argue with me about it. but if you love someone. truly love someone. can you really rationalize hurting them? much less do it on pretty much a daily basis?
but, stupid me, it has taken a long time to learn this.
a lifetime of protecting myself enough just to fall on my face again when i believe a person has changed. when i believe a person actually loves me. when i believe a person couldn’t possibly hurt me…again….
this ain’t fucking beauty & the beast.
yes, people can change.
but only if they want to.
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….
i am a three-legged chair
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
here i am
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
sure, i could do this alone
light me, warm me, build me
& i have done it
but i keep thinking
wouldn’t it be more fun
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.)
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?
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?
i am really enjoying doing ink brush work on canvas.
ps. they are totally for sale. i don’t have any more room to store all my inkings.
seeing what i can find
they say never to pull away
never to expose the tender pink
but i find it is
the jagged leavings
i am a mosaic
of the bits of me
once again i found inspiration with my expressive figure drawing book. of course the figure i borrowed from was sitting very elegantly & when i tried to copy it, i ended up looking awkwardly sprawled–which is pretty accurate for my appearance.