blunt

my life is just
a series
of fuck ups
sorry you got caught
up
in that
maybe
they should just
launch me to the moon
send me
to the bottom of the sea
get me as far as fuck
away
from
anyone
everyone
i can possibly
harm.

i am so very sick right now. in a literal sense. my face hurts from my sinuses being all jenky. so i did end up binging some netflix because i’m not good for much else. but at least i was watching a good show–get shorty–as it has been made into a series now. so totally worth the binge.
and i do like an irish accent.
but here i am sick. and now my washer is broken. amid all the other things i need help with in my life & all i can do is lament that i have no one to take care of me…never did really…and it so totally sucks.
this journal page started as a text to my first husband who has started contacting me again after a long silence that began with my telling him i wanted to smash his head.
i’m not the best ex-wife…or wife…so why do both my husbands keep coming back for more? so confusing.
anyhoo.
i didn’t think i would hear from him again. usually if i just look at him funny he does a quick retreat, much less my threatening the consummate condition of his head.
whatever.
i don’t need another ex-husband in my life.
i need someone who is going to stay
& take care of me…but that is a hard idea for me to swallow…
that anyone would ever do that for me…because…well, i’m me.

a simple but damning curse on mankind.

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random thoughts in order of appearance pretending to be cohesive

i love the wide open sky
but i miss the energy
of a city
i love the peace & the quiet
but i miss the sparkle
of a city
i am alone
lonely & isolated
i want to find
my strong & broken poet
a kindred spirit
someone who knows how
to love me
someone who lets me
love them
i miss adventures
i miss roaming
i miss possibilities
i built a fence
i fashioned my life
into a prison
that requires me to use
old escapes
built using things i love
it took me a while
to realize
the walls
were there
but now that i see them
i can walk
right
out.

i totally started writing a journal page in my head last night as i lay in bed. then i put it on a mental post-it note which apparently has fallen off of my brain desk & fluttered away.
i need a bedside notepad. for real this time.

today i voted (yes!), donated clothes, recycled, and cleaned out my soul. okay–it’s a kia soul which i had accidentally infested with mice while taking my recycling to the drop off. credit to messy minions, there was enough food on the floor & seat of my car to feed a small family of mice for quite some time.
i also thought about picking up a homeless/nomadic man. i am assuming here that he was homeless. he had the homeless vibe, layers of clothes, a huge backpack, enjoying a salad while sitting on the sidewalk…. he was easily the most physically attractive hobo i have ever seen.
and i dig a guy who has needs.
it’s the cancer in me. i want to nurture. so i see some man who seems to need some nurturing & i get all soft in the head. for example, everyone i have ever dated…except for one guy.
i had a total fantasy about taking the hot hobo home & putting him to work–kind of a my man godfrey thing.
by the time i had almost reached my house, i had convinced myself he was my soulmate, & i had totally blown it by not inviting him over.

honestly, i don’t know if this is a desirable personality trait of mine or an undesirable one. or if it even matters.

today is a bit of a ramble.
i am sober for over a week now (vs. my two beer a day habit)–for health & money reasons.
i am also trying to quit my netflix habit which is getting out of control, & i have serious issues with the quality of shows i am willing to binge lately.

the minions are gone away…& i don’t know how to play…but i do have art to do. so i will get to it.

INKtober twenty-eighth

i am autumn
i am change
i am ready
to rest
to let go
to prepare
for
spring.

…if i survive winter.
i felt calm, hopeful even, when i wrote this as i watched the wind blow across the blue sky outside my window.
then something cracked & damaged inside me shifted. my rabies flared up.
now i am not so sure that i am anything other than a dead mom walking.
maybe i am not meant to rest.
like my own dear mother always said, “no rest for the wicked.”

INKtober twenty-sixth

my lovely
lovely
demons
they keep me
warm
they keep me
company
never alone
when you’re
haunted
my demons
dry my tears
they tell me
everything
will be
okay
everything
will be
fine…
once i give up
admit defeat
disappear…
i know
i should
send my demons
away
let go of my
demons…
but if i do
what friends
will i have
left?

this post was inspired by yesterday’s post. yes, i am my own muse.
also, i have never seen the movie ghost…but this well-known scene popped to mind when i tried to picture my ever loving demons.

don’t know what this says about it all, but i accidentally gave my demon one of my tattoos–the one that is an engagement tattoo to an obsession i have done my best to let go of….
hmmm.
there are no accidents…right?
also, i totally think my demon is sexy.
i need to get out more….

INKtober twenty-second

i’m never going to know
love
the way it is
written
i’m never going to know
love
the way it
plays
on the radio
i’m never going to know
love
the way it translates
to
screen & stage
…unless
of course
tennessee williams
is at the
wheel.

so i am having a snoot of whiskey (that’s a thing, right? oh yes, it totally is–thanks google!) and embracing my inner tennessee williams…he is in there with my inner charles bukowski & my inner tom waits. they hang out inside me but are generally incoherent if you are wondering why my writing isn’t better….
anyhoo.
i survived my most recent bout of “watch me try to recycle an ex.” why do i always want to recycle exes? i think it goes back to the idea of leftover love & what to do with it. i tend to hate waste & to want to upcycle & whatnot.
so, yeah, i do that with love & relationships as well.
or i’m just lazy.
seriously though, laying down that foundation is so much work, & i am pretty swamped as it is.
but that is also the fun part. discovery…first kiss…first fight…eventual disillusionment. wait, i think i know why i am single.
more whiskey, barkeep!

INKtober twenty-first

leftover love
stuck
in the corners
of my
heart
like those spiders
living in my window panes
i just try to pretend
it is normal
accepted
and not really happening
leftover love
do i warm it up?
or let it stay cold
pushed to the back
of the fridge
growing
crusty.

a poem about my housekeeping skills…or lack thereof?

after another close call with sliding back into my dusty knickers…i wrote a letter/list of all the reasons i divorced him. quite an impressive list if one is impressed by a person’s ability to sabotage a relationship…anyhoo, the letter helped me to see more clearly & to remember why i am divorced.
i wrote it because i realized–amidst an argument over the phone after i told him that our getting back together was a bad idea–i realized he has never taken any blame in my divorcing him.
he presents it as: she divorced me; she is bad & deserving of my treating her like crap.
when, in fact, i had many many many reasons for divorcing him & gave him chance after chance after chance before divorcing him.
ack.
like he thinks i just flipped a coin & decided to turn all of our lives upside down??
seriously…it appears as if that is how he views my decision to divorce him.
so i wrote a list.
a long list.
which helped me, at least. and–hopefully–will help him accept his role in our relationship crashing & burning.

now i prepare for another long, cold winter–alone (you know, except for the four kids, four goats, two cats, a puppy, dozens of ducks, chickens, geese, a turkey named hamlet, & a ewe named elsa.) at least i know how to keep myself busy.

strangely, i do feel relieved to let go (again!) of hope for a dusty & me revival tour.

INKtober twentieth

i wish
i could be
in love with you & feel
good
about it
instead of felling like i am
about
to step
off a cliff
&
onto a land mine
which
instead of killing me instantly
& with no pain
will just tear me
to pieces
letting me die
a
slow
painful
death
cold & isolated
in my sorrow.

okay, my witchy & mystic friends, tell me…yesterday, while standing with dusty at sunrise, i watched (and then shouted & ran towards it) as a hawk flew down & tried to take off with one of my young chickens.
then, as i drove to the feed store with iggy & poppy, a hawk flew along side our car for about a quarter of a mile.
then today, as i drove to the farmer’s market with my minions, a hawk flew off of a post and practically right into my windshield. i actually ducked inside my car for fear of  being hit by a hawk. (the hawk, however, did not make contact with my car)

what is the universe trying to tell me?

dusty came down to our house for poppy’s & fidgit’s birthdays. he spent one night & returned to wisconsin. there was some physical activity between the father of my children & me. i have been celibate (man, it took me forever to remember that word just now) for about a year & a half, so i was overdue for some…and i don’t regret it…but i also don’t think there is a future for dusty & myself as a “couple”…despite our smoking hot chemistry.
nothing changes. nothing stays the same.
i felt defeated after he was gone.
nothing changes.
and today when i tried to explain my lack of hope to him…it quickly turned into a mud slinging free-for-all.
yay.

so is that it? are the hawks just telling me to pay attention? to listen to the signs i am given? to trust my instinct?

ah fuck.
i’m going to die alone.
but at least the universe hasn’t given up on me.

INKtober seventeeth

i just feel so sad
i cry
& i don’t
know why
but still
the tears come
will there come
a time
when my very being
is not
composed
entirely
of tears?
just because i open
my heart
does not mean
i am someone
you know
i am
quite
unknown
possibly
unknowable
i don’t want to be
alone
but maybe i
cannot
be
anything
but the loneliest person you have ever met.

i still haven’t recovered from the show the mysteries of laura being cancelled…you know, three years ago–but i just found it on netflix and i know it isn’t really that great of a show…but i was emotionally invested nonetheless. c’mon–i’ve seen every episode ever of friends (when originally aired even!) you know i have my shallow bits.

okay.
so i know it has everything to do with dusty & my lingering love for him. my hope for a thing called “us.”
though there is every chance in the world that i will never be successful in any relationship ever.
but who is? you ask. well, from where i’m sitting…everyone.
or i feel like everyone i see is successfully human & relate-able while i am some funky misshapen thing from outer space….

i don’t feel like arting & inking…but i did this anyway–because it is inktober & i’m trying not to be a drop out because how fucking hard is it for someone with my neurotic & compulsive inking habits to not ink something every day?

i am not sure my art journal page nor my blog about it makes any sense today. but, you know, i’m more worried about what the fuck i am going to disappear into on netflix now that i have watched every episode of the mysteries of laura….

always for now

always & forever
did not last
as long
as i thought it would
always
became sometimes
& then
seldom
before falling off the world & into
never….
forever started to
sputter out
after
what?
just a couple of years?
a brief
forever
waxing & waning
away to
nothing.
never mind.

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