lincoln tree & sheep fingers

a reader of my blog asked the very important question of where the fuck did these sheep fingers originate anyway (to paraphrase.)
here.
this watercolor done years ago, titled “lincoln tree & sheep fingers” (& available for the low low price of $85)
why did i arbitrarily give the sheep human fingers for legs? i guess that is a question for my psychotherapist…if i were to have one…. however, to answer why i continue to do them–it’s because the swirlyness helps ease my rabid mind. and the fingers help the cynical & creepy part of me feel okay with the cuteness of sheep.
and i do love sheep.

my most recent inking of sheep fingers

sheep fingers

i’m sending off the bits & parts that will hopefully become confusion perfume & other neurotic comics published by tara caribou’s raw earth ink.

i guess i will be re posting all of the moses jones pages next? y’all ready for that? maybe i’ll hook a publisher for it as well….
i also need to try again at the sustainable arts foundation award for artists & writers with children. it opens on february 1st. i am thinking i am going to submit my latest pages of moses jones.

meanwhile, here are some sheep fingers for you to enjoy…they are good with ketchup.

circles

the free store i started is a month old now. it is packed full of goodies. so many awesome people donating.

i have only noticed one problem.
all the accolades i have been receiving have triggered my impostor syndrome & sent me into some serious dark & downward spirals.
weird, right?
like when people tell me i’m doing a good thing, i feel like i am somehow fooling them.
when one woman said, “way to pay it forward,” i flinched. of course, for me it is not about karma. it is about giving the people what they need; keeping crap out of landfills; putting one over on the man….
but am i a good person for doing it?
i don’t feel like a good person…
then i start to wonder…if my art took off, would i suffer in a similar way? spin out to a dark & devastated place where i fear everyone will realize i am actually a fuck up in sheep’s clothing?

however, i can’t help hoping all the spinning i have been doing will leave me standing still

surviving myself

i’m staring out the window of a bus
a bus parked forever more
in the hills of western wisconsin
clouds, forests, wildflowers, birds, & bugs (so many bugs)
are right outside my window
& all i feel
is paralyzed
trapped
unable to move forward
because renting requires income
getting a loan requires income
& i am on a bus
with four kids
my ex-husband trying to lure me
back to him
back to life
in an apartment
with him
& each day
i think a little more seriously
about committing
that crime
about sacrificing
myself
to make sure my kids
have a roof over their heads….
i just wish i could look at this amazing view
& feel free
& feel inspired
& feel hopeful
instead
of feeling
doomed
but right now
i have no idea
how to be
that person
how to be
anything
but miserable
& alone.

so i do still have a patreon page where–in theory–y’all could help with my income issues….

though i am not posting as much as i usually do as i am struggling with depression right now as well as the instability of being homeless–er, between homes, rather….
but i will try to get pen to paper & get some new posts up over there soon.

on the road again

from the flatlands of illinos
to the rolling hills of wisconsin
squatting
both literally & figuratively
in the wild driftless region
waiting for fate
to open a door
(or window)
to a new home
for me & the minons

i am still doing art. mostly doodles. and writing in my journal to keep myself sane as my whole world is turned upside down…in a good way…but still terrifying.

between homes

summer 2015
while trying to convince the dad to move away
leaving a “commonwealth” scam
leaving a doorstep haunted by a predatory woman
leaving a sadness that soaked my bones
just leaving, i begged
or not…
i tried to to convince the dad to move away
somewhere cheaper
far away from his predatory “other woman”
i tried
& failed
he would not leave her
& stupidly
i agreed on a rental that would not be open until
the end of
summer
summer of 2015, between homes
bouncing around
crashing, house-sitting, visiting relatives
only to land again
in my own
sadness

i have been thinking of that summer, if only to remind myself that i have been “between homes” with four children before…& survived.
i am hoping that this time i do not land again in my own sadness.
the dad has been trying to convince me to come live with him again….
right???
what insanity would that be?
i have broken free of him & to give up that freedom would surely mean the end of me…
but, i might have to turn to him for temporary shelter. i am trying to find other options, but having a safe place for the minions to be trumps all other concerns. & where the minions go….
i’m trying to be excited about a change, even an uncertain one. i mean, i am excited about it…but also worried sick. i turn every scenario over & over in my head. i do everything in my head, first, preparing myself for anything unexpected.
this is how i survive.

to help support my traveling circus & our search for a forever home, check out my patreon page where i am working on character development of a comic book hero who has been in my head for about five years now….

and being a patron of mine of the $5 a month or more, gets you personalized art postcards like these:

ding dong

i was at the doctor’s office yesterday as i have been avoiding a physical for a number of years. you would think after four kids & not even knowing the number of people who have seen my lovely crotch in baby related matters…i wouldn’t be fazed by having my lady bits cranked open & ogled…but maybe one never learns to enjoy that experience….
anyhoo.
my doctor–literally–said to me, “tell me about your mother.”
it was everything i could do to not launch into a re-enactment of the scene from blade runner...you know the one–and if you don’t, you better get the fuck to a library & check that movie out (the original one.)

i can’t remember where i was going with this.

so my dead dad was going to be shipped back to illinois (aka the place where i live) to be buried with his family in the local catholic cemetery. i have had a stress headache about it since monday. i have been cleaning (i hate cleaning–it seems i do not have a domestic bone in my body) & dreading the descending judgement of my family who would be returning to our childhood home & how i would be viewed. bracing myself for enduring snide little comments about cobwebs & dust & having microwaves & coffee makers (i also hate most appliances other than blenders) brought from the basement to clog the counter space. and do i need to take down my pagan alter & put away my art & witchy things?

then this morning i got word that my mom has decided to cremate him & keep him in texas.
i suspect she is doing it as a last ditch effort to keep him away from his mom whom she was always jealous of & who is buried in the cemetery he was headed for….
but! whatever reason that crazy lady has for keeping my dad in texas, i am grateful.

when i heard my dad had died, all i felt was relief. like the scene in wizard of oz…then dread when i realized that his death meant i would have to see my family.
though i am lonely & isolated, i am not so desperate for company that i would relish a visit from my family.
knowing my little world is safe once again, i feel at peace.
yikes, right?
either i am the most awful person in the world…or…i dunno. maybe i am the most awful person in the world.
ah well–fuck it.

oh, & here are snippets of projects available over on my patreon page…an art journal page plus the final page of “fetish” & two more pages of “stolen”

checking in

i have been working on getting my patreon page up & running. i have posted several times for my patrons.
i totally have two patrons!!! yay!!!

i was thinking. for those of you who are as poor as me. if you have a way to do trade, i would totally do that. like i be your patron & you be mine? something like that…i’m trying to figure out a way to be accessible while also making some income.
it’s just a boost to know someone thinks my arts, writings, and random ramblings are worth anything.
it’s nice.

also! i am applying for the sustainable arts award for mother writers & mother artists. it’s a nice award, and the best part is how much i realize i value myself when i fill out the application telling them who i am.

meanwhile, i have gotten to second base with my goat magdalene. she is producing lots of milk which i share with her kid, claudia. claudia gets one teat, i take the other. so i have fresh goat’s milk for my tea.

in other news, i had a weird thing happen last week which i am just getting to in my art journal.
an epiphany? a moment of enlightenment? a breakthrough?

at the very least, a new story, similar to “fallen” in being a fictionalized telling of something real to me–this time about my most formative past life.
so…become a patron & you can hear all about that.

or, just talk to me on google hangouts, & i’ll tell you all about it.

here are some teasers for my patron page:

including a journal page about my little voices and one about my imbolc meditation on longing (for my work on the healing wheel.)
and two pages of illustrations for a collaboration i am doing with benjamin davis on his story fetish.

the image is based on my childhood memory of making my first ever comic series on a chalkboard in my basement. a version of “hey diddle diddle” where the members of the nursery rhyme were some sort of soap opera.

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