i miss sex, y’all.
like i’m some fucking monk….
i know i can go on okcupid & find a hook-up. god knows i’ve had offers when i’ve been on there. (my profile is down right now because i don’t know what i want…or, rather, i don’t think that what i want can be found on a dating site.)
but i don’t work like that. i mean, i will think–sure just sex–that’s cool. but if i’m willing to have sex with you, dude, i’m going to fall in love with you.
if the right person looks at me just the right way, i fall in love. i watched the sound of music with my kids the other day & fell in love with christopher plummer. god he looks good with dark hair–& those piercing eyes…sigh.
man, i miss sex.
it’s been over a year. i don’t know for sure how long because i didn’t know that the last time was the last time.
since september of 2002, i have only had sex with dusty.
that might not seem odd to some of y’all, but here’s the thing, before dusty, i had had sex with 30 people. i was 32 when i met dusty and had decided that my number of partners could absolutely not surpass my age.
he was #31.
so 16 years with only one partner….
i mean, if we were still married, i would be proud of that. but we divorced in 2010. we continued to have a relationship with each other…but he also went off the rails & was having all kinds of relationships with all kinds of people.
while i had lost my mojo.
i lost my mojo.
i miss sex.
but sex is tricky for me. i have all that hard-core catholic programming of sex is bad (unless you are making a baby in wedlock.)
and then i have all the fucked up programming of my fucked up parents who modeled for me that a romantic relationship is a balance of fighting & fucking.
also, being a mom has made me self-conscious about my sex drive. it’s when the minions are away that i remember–
i am by nature a very sexual creature.
i am not going to go into details because of my latent catholicism and because i know i am inviting the wrong kind of attention by talking openly about sex while being a woman.
but i am–mostly–okay with this part of me. if you are into astrology, i am a cancer with a scorpio moon & scorpio rising. that’s like: sex sex emotions sex emotions & sex…with a lot of emotion.
i like sex.
it is something i am good at. (really really good–again, can’t go into details, but…really)
i miss sex.
but i don’t foresee myself having it again…unless i meet someone i can actually have a lasting & healthy relationship with.
some days that feels like the most impossible thing ever.
and i just find myself thinking…
i miss sex.
it is a release
who knew how heavy
holding him in
my sisyphean love
of the cage
a bee stung me
in the face
mowed down my ditches
i had left wild
with hopes of cultivating
for the bees
& then crop dusters
somehow within their
dive bombed the fields
leaving poison in their wake
& all i could do was worry
for the bee who stung me
for her sisters in the hive
for her sisters foraging
in the ditches & fields
because i know
without a doubt
& can see
despite my eyes being
almost swollen shut
that their lives
are vastly more important
vastly more meaningful
it is not that i think my life is meaningless. well, relatively speaking it is as well–but i was saying all human life is meaningless. seriously. what are we good for? we hurry around this planet acting so important & superior…but what do we do?
we are a plague worse than any other.
we destroy land.
kill off species after species.
why? what is our purpose?
the bee is an honest & hardworking creature. one with purpose. look to the flowers & fruit. that is the bee’s work.
have we ever done anything half as important as that?
my misery is evolving into epiphanies about the misery of all of us. this is exciting, right?
ps. check out my face!
i did this picture by spilling ink
and looking for images
in the shadows & shades of the ink
i spilled this ink
to send another love note
to a person who doesn’t want me
but at least i’m making art
while i mope
and try to find my way.
meanwhile, i really need to do another page of moses jones. it’s time for that once-a-month page.
but my garden is weeded. my minions are fed. my ducks are laying. my bees are buzzing. life goes on.
*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.
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
of writing another letter to seymour
and i started this inkstain as a page on which to write crazy broken poetry about love
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.
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.
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.
i have quit facebook…again.
here’s the thing. i feel like my desire to connect & form a community is hindered by the mentality of social media.
does that make sense?
so i’m quitting the number one social media site in an attempt to form actual authentic connections.
or that is how it is playing in my head.
sharing my art on facebook to a lukewarm response from most of the people i know in the world (i do have some friends who are awesome & supportive…but very few) always made me sad. but when i share it on tumblr & get a response from the handful of people who follow me–it’s exciting because barely anyone knows i’m even there.
yup, lower them expectations for a delightful surprise.
& without the distractions & easy access to stuff on facebook, i will actually have to reach out more & dig around more–thereby discovering more stuff (information, opportunities, etc.)
that’s what i’m thinking anyway.
so i’m reaching out & connecting more…by disconnecting.
that makes sense right?
one more thing. can anyone tell me–should i do a patreon account? will people give me money to create in exchange for virtual hugs & homemade postcards?