*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.
so y’all remember when i became obsessed with lynda barry and tried to get her to be my friend?
well, do you remember when i became obsessed with amanda palmer and tried to get her to be my friend?
so i’m reading jenny lawson’s book furiously happy and i’m trying really hard not to message her or anything because i really don’t think i can take more rejection right now. i tried to comment on her blog…and the comment never showed up. so now i’m wondering if she just deleted it for being irrelevant? or i fucked up posting it? but i can’t risk trying again because…you know…the rejection part.
maybe if i had had more than just imaginary friends as a kid.
and as a grown-up.
i’m probably fucking up my kids by homeschooling them & not being enough of an extrovert to get them out to meet other kids and now they will someday stalk celebrities that they feel a false sense of connection with….
that was not where i was going with this.
so i’m reading her book….
i just lost my train of thought because poppy will not use the toilet on his own–he is completely capable–but will not do it. if i don’t take him, he screams at me until i do…then if i forget & wander off without carrying him back to where we started, he screams until i do. yesterday he broke a mirror because i didn’t carry him from the bathroom when he was done peeing…but that’s not where i was going with this either.
but it kind of was.
i cannot handle my life.
i fucked up by trying to have a life.
i cannot handle my dogs.
my sheep have overgrown toenails that apparently it is up to me to trim and i just don’t want to do it. i just don’t. i don’t want to do any of it. i want to quit.
but that’s not really an option. is it? i mean, i could sylvia plath…or kramer vs. kramer…but those options have a lot of terrifying consequences.
there it is!
so i am reading her book, and i am confused by her husband. first he seems like a pain in the ass. but she seems to really like him? i keep thinking of him as being played by colin firth and was going to message her that…but, you know, rejection.
then i realize, he is like the voice of sanity in her life. he is her port of safety. then i think, i would really like someone like that in my life. you know, instead of always being in relationships with men who are looking for mothers & try to make me the sane one–the responsible one–the grown-up.
and all these years of having to pretend to know what i’m doing…
it has done it’s damage.
so i need jenny lawson’s victor.
except…i don’t think i could find a sane man (or woman) who would love me & take care of me and that would be asking a lot since i also want that person to help around the house…so i realized that i have to hire someone to be my port of safety.
i need a companion.
a personal assistant.
someone who can talk me in off the ledge.
and buy me ice cream.
i have to hire someone to fill this position. but i have no money. so i have to sell my art to make money to hire someone to take care of me.
that is my new plan.
(crap, looking at the original ink stain, i think i could have done more with this…but my brain feels like a bag of broken glass…so….)