pretty picture they say how much? i tell them & they walk away & i spin am i asking too much? sure ink is cheap paper too but i put so much of myself in every inking years & years of trying of failing of hurting of growing of figuring shit out pretty lady they say what are you worth? any price i put on me is going to be too much just walk away.
i have now a diminished idea of what my inkings are worth. so if you want some, now would be the time to buy! conversely, i now have the highest self-esteem i have ever had since childhood. did i have self-esteem in childhood? i can’t remember for sure. i mean, sometimes i can’t tell the difference between self-esteem & just not giving a fuck.
last day of inktober.
tomorrow starts nanowrime & my first year ever doing it.
was there ever joy in my life have i always been this miserable creature i see in the mirror was my heart ever a light place or was this darkness just born to me?
so on top of a head cold, two of my sons had birthdays this past week. my seven year old was a difficult one. the pregnancy was physically easy, but emotionally a trainwreck. dusty found a shiny new girlfriend while i was pregnant for poppy. that went on throughout the pregnancy, birth, & first two years of poppy’s life. so, unfortunately, a day where i should feel happiness turns me into a puddle of misery as i remember how awful i felt for those years.
they erupt after you have give up hope just staring out at the grey slush… & wait! there is something green! the greys, browns, & white have dominated for so so long ever since the twinkle lights were so unceremoniously packed away & you were beginning to think life was a colorless thing mostly colorless (no offense to the greys, browns, & white) but, c’mon for being the shortest calendar month february can go on for a really really fucking long time so whether a squirrel moved it there or it’s a forgotten hopeful thing you planted green is now inching its way out of the mushy brown & wait! doesn’t that kind of describe you the way you feel as well?
it’s out of season, but this was a writing prompt given in the little group i am trying to get started.
it seems to me your ideologies & world views depend on what channel you are watching… it’s time to open eyes & unplug.
another random thought while wandering the covid-paranoid streets of “liberal” madison, wisconsin. one sign even warned me to stay six feet away from so&so’s garden??? what the fuck? don’t breathe my good oxygen…it’s mine, all mine…. so i thought this–tune in for your next opinion. it’s all fucking he said/they said. i just want people to start thinking for themselves. is that even possible?
(sorry if i’m not making sense–bit of a head cold…probably serves me right for refusing to stop living my life)
i am a puzzle piece in the wrong box i am the squarest of square pegs searching for where i fit a puzzle box where i belong i am not willing to change my shape change who i am force myself into a space that does not honor me… so… where does that leave me? forever lost? forever alone….
ack! i like the idea of this post…but the inking kinda got away from me. wet page & black ink & my lady looks a bit like a munster but then again i feel a bit like a munster so maybe it works. i was at the creator’s group i am creating last night. four people who were exploring writing as a retirement activity, re-discovering their inner writers showed up for my group…. & i totally felt like a fraud. at one point i even confessed that i did not feel like i belonged in the very group i started. ack to be me…or not to be me? (that is the question)
writing led me to art which brought me back to my writing …it’s the story you see no matter how you tell it it must be told.
dude. i totally spaced on inktober…again…but, as it turns out, i have posted an inking every day of october so far. because, well, ever since 2016, almost every day has been inktober for me. inktober 2016 is when it all began, my full-fledged & messy love affair with my ink (there’s an interesting mental picture…but it looks a lot like a room full of inkings of myself–see yesterday’s post.) yes! in honor of inktober (which i. had spaced, but the universe kindly remembered for me) i have an exhibit of the ink adventure that reflects work that began inktober 2017! my self-portrait series “the invisible exhibitionist,” hangs at the commons in viroqua & will at some point soon be available for viewing on their website (though i still urge y’all to come visit the real thing.) also! in subconscious honor of inktober, i released my first book of comics on october 1st. confusion perfume was when i began to seriously start using ink rather than my previous flirtation with watercolors. so much like the ink running through my veins, inktober is never far from my heart.
so…i’m no longer living on a bus! y’all–i managed to get off the bus!
me & the minions have a house in a quaint neighborhood of a quaint town in wisconsin. and! i claimed a room as a room of my own! except for the pet rat, the dog, and being also a space for books & puzzles…i have a room that is all mine for writing & drawing & just staring out the window! so that’s nice. but i have flunked out of therapy…not before reprising my list of ideals for a romantic relationship, however. next on my list of “what i want”…that guy who won’t make me feel like crap.
& then, also on the list of things i desire (after a roof & a man) is a job doing what i actually want to be doing. i am working outside the home for the first time in forever….but the honeymoon is over on the new job. now i just want to sit at home & draw…and write…and go for walks & on bike rides…garden a bit…travel…. sigh.
though i forgot about INKtober, as sarah of fresh hell pointed out to me, every day is kinda inktober for me. actually, ever since INKtober 2016, i have been covered in ink. it’s a bit scary how much i have drawn in these last three years. i should have a book…or something. but, no, i am not exactly rolling with the punches…. i feel like a complete failure as my patreon page whispers softly to me, “my god you suck….” & in other areas of life, mother–(crap…am i anything other than a mother???) i am also sucking suckiness. if you want to confirm this for me (my failure as artist, writer, & mother) feel free to check out my patreon page.
so there is my way past due update, dear reader…
ps. i do not have internet (but would accept it as a gift) so any online postings are sporadic at best
holy crap what if what if you can’t do normal what if dysfunctional is the only speed you move at? you say you want stable & secure but then then you secretly shop for fucked up you crave crazy you love the lunatics lists of issues are a turn-on is this your sickness? is this something you can recover from? or is damaged & broken just the way you roll your own warped happy ish ending.
originally posted on october (inktober) 7th of last year. this page of the invisible exhibitionist was inspired by/stolen from one of my favorite male artists (& a bit of a freak himself) egon schiele.
i usually post a picture of the finished portrait next to the original…but my camera, abused by minions, refuses to work. i had to go shopping for a cheap replacement & am waiting for it to arrive. when it does, i will post some before & afters of this page as well as “the wrong one.” though i still don’t like my re-do of “the wrong one” (i tried three times to get it right) as much as i did the original. sigh. for love, support, & a new camera... (haha, you totally thought i was going to link you to my patreon page….)