dusty doesnt like it when i compare him to a hookworm

he’s not a bad guy
really
just the wrong guy
really!
he’s here again
at my invitation
it seems
though i cannot tell you
exactly how that came to be.
how is it that i invited him back
into my life
when i knew for sure
that i had finally
finally
gotten rid of him.
i knew i had seen the last of him.
but somehow
i invited him back?

my hookworm.
my favorite parasite.
the father of my four
other
favorite
parasites.

i’m not getting any work done
on my art at least
i did put up beehives today…
and i am keeping house…
and reading a really good novel…
but my art is suffering

is it because of dusty?
is it because of the endless display of
rainy days?
cloudy days?
sunless days?
is it because i have used up the quota
allowed me
of creative genius?
is it because the minions are nuts?
is it because of dusty?

so this is like, what?
all of april’s artistic efforts…
this?
yes.
this is all i have to show for my ink
in april.

ink clot

i figure that’s a good thing to call my artist’s block…an ink clot.

i stared at this for a couple hours last night while watching a romantic comedy which actually caused a little ptsd when trump made a cameo in it. there should be a trigger warning on the movie two weeks notice. how was i to know i would have to see the thing of nightmares in a fluffball of sandra bullock and that british guy who’s name is escaping me & i don’t feel like googling him?

i’m not that desperate at least.

part of my ink clot is a fear of fucking up my picture. all of a sudden. i guess if i’m taking myself seriously, then i have to worry about messing up.
crap.
i feel jinxed.
but i did work on valentine’s today…that i need to finish now if i want them to actually reach people in time. the valentine’s were fun because i don’t  have to worry about fucking them up.
but i put a price on my other stuff.
i was having a panic attack about over-pricing my art. i don’t know if i am over-pricing them. i guess i think they are worth it…but what if someone else doesn’t?
then no art for them, i guess.
that’s all there is to it.
they either sell or they don’t.

my big achievement yesterday, while not doing art, was to realize that i was born a radical.
i have been identifying very heavily with the more radical reactions to the current administration.
and then i realized.
i’ve always been a radical.
i spent my childhood challenging the patriarchy before i even knew what feminism was (it was a bad word in my childhood home–that’s all i knew about it.)
i spent my childhood challenging organized religion.
i spent my childhood challenging the constructs of gender and sexuality.

i have been in resistance from day one.

i also realized that i have no desire to try to convert any trumpettes over to my way of thinking. i know from experience (growing up with rabid conservatives) that there is very little chance of tipping that scale in my favor.
what i want to do is inspire wanna-be radicals.
what i want to do is normalize being radical the way they are trying to normalize being a racist piece of shit.
that’s my calling.
that’s what i was born to do.

one last thing.
i have been trying to stay in touch with ex-husband #1 who came for a visit after a drunken text from me on a lonely/horny impulse.
nothing happened while he was visiting (thankgodthankgodthankgod)
and i have broken it to him that i am not interested in anything ever happening. and when i said that, i said, “i hope you don’t go into hiding,” because usually if he senses any rejection whatsoever, he disappears out of my life (no texts, no emails, etc.)
he answered that he wants to be friends.
and wants to hear from me…but then i got this email from him last night:

And just so you know    Going into hiding is right behind gone missing as the stupidest phrase ever.

that’s all it said.
what the fuck is that?
who says that?
yeah.
so glad i didn’t have sex with him.

i’m trying not to write back something snarky. i am trying to just ignore it. i don’t know. maybe i should call him out on it.
what the fuck?

sometimes i hate men…or at least both the ones i used to be married to.