more art journaling about letting go of stories that no longer serve me.
i am only on the internet every few days or so–kinda sporadically. if you want me to post more moses jones, i totally will. however, i don’t want to post too many things at once & since i am doing a lot of art journaling to work my way through another transition, & i am mostly posting said. journal pages right now.
but i am still working on comics & illustrations.
re-doing my collection of short stories at the moment….
on screen ninja fights
zombies swords flash save the world…
meanwhile, life wasted
i’ve been spending my day sorting through files & files of stories. some are just a couple of words, an idea. some are complete & surprisingly well written stories. i have found that a lot of my stories have a similar voice. i am taking those snippets and adding them to a novel i am working on with the same voice.
threading it all together.
i am also posting some of them over on my patreon site & considering some for possible publication?
this haiku was in the middle of a file full of short stories/flash fiction i had written back in a time i used to submit to the site Helium all the time.
i am pretty sure it is about my ex-husband & my feelings about his video game addiction.
& this was not the only written piece i found obsessing about my ex-husband & the wrongs he did to me.
which brings me to my tarot card reading for the beltane new moon. a lot of good stuff in this reading.
but the bad stuff…not letting go. the moon crossing me warns about it…so does the card in my “near future” position of the spread.
so i wonder. what is it that i am not letting go of? all i can think of is this anger i still have toward my ex-husband.
how do i let go?
i truly want to.
some time later…
okay, so! i was quietly obsessing about all the stuff i should be doing here at my mom’s house as squatter/care-taker, when i thought, “maybe that’s it…maybe i am stuck here–actually stuck at this place.” worrying about the lawn, the wet basement, and then reminding myself, “it’s not my goddamned property, monkey-boy!” (buckaroo banzai)…. my mom called me the other day about the basement & spent the entire call bitching about my sister who is trying her best to care for my mom. my mom said, “she was never my favorite.”
what the fuck, mom?
she also bitched about dad dying & leaving her to deal with this house & property that she wanted to sell years ago. i kind of agree that that was a shitty thing to do.
the next day, as i was attempting to meditate (meditation is surprisingly difficult for my loud brain to do,) my phone rang with “pure evil” coming up on the screen. so i kept on trying to meditate, but got a sick feeling in my stomach. my mom left a message, but before i could check the message, i checked my email where my sister (or brother-in-law as they share an email) emailed me to say, “don’t answer the phone!”
so i deleted the message from my mom without listening to it.
long story short, my mom doesn’t give a rat’s ass about me & i know damn well that i was never her favorite either.
she only calls me on occasion when no one else will listen to her.
so why am i stressing out trying to care for a place that is not mine for a woman who can’t stand me?
i am free to leave.
but it’s not easy leaving a place where i don’t have to worry about rent & utilities & keeping a roof over my four minions’ heads….
have i sold my soul for a free place to live? it kind of feels that way.
it kind of feels like that scene in labyrinth where sarah is in her “bedroom” & has forgotten her quest because she is surrounded by superficially comforting “things.”
or, as i wrote a couple days ago, it feels like “hotel california.”
i have often compared this experience to the shining as well….
and there in my tarot spread, you can see. i am stuck in “opposition” while change is my conflict card.
change should not be a conflict for me. i love change.
so i have chosen a third town as a possible new home. i was going to road trip there tomorrow, but the forecast calls for storms & rain today & the two days after.
i am stuck.
the basement might flood again if i am not here.
but how long can this go on?
i tried to mow the lawn today, and the mower died. am i going to hire someone to repair it? or someone to mow these acres of grass?
or am i just going to walk away?
i want to just walk away.
i really truly do.
so why do i feel so stuck?
“If you don’t release something voluntarily, it will cause you pain when it is snatched from you against your will.”
this card was driving me crazy because sometimes it feels like all i do is let things go.
what else can i let go of?
then i caught myself going to a dark
place when i saw a friend’s loving post about his wife.
right? why should that cause me pain??
and that is when i realized what i needed to let go of
my fantasy that i had once had
& had lost it through carelessness…
to stop being angry & depressed about losing something
that was never mine
to begin with.
airbrush his soul
if he could
the rough parts
as if they never
he is trying so hard
to look like
so you think
it’s all good
i had to stop following my ex on instagram because i found myself wanting to punch him in the face–which–if you think about it, is preferable to wanting to get back together with him.
do you ever look back
to the not-so-distant past and think of yourself,
“i don’t even know you, dude.”
like how can my brain swing to such extremes. and who is the dominant personality?
okay, that’s all fodder for another page.
suffice to say, my exes all suck. all of them. no exceptions, not anymore.
seems i have a serious tendency to fall for guys with a peter pan complex. i might have to re-think that. they just use my fairy dust so they can fly & then run off with wendy…motherfuckers.
i think i’m getting the hang of the bamboo pen. i have a lot of fun with it. not so great for details & can get messy, but i’ve never really been a details kinda gal…& i like messy.
i love to set
fly from me
swoop & terrorize
as i loose you
onto the world
from my cobwebbed
& you take with you
of my heart…
i never ask
what you did
in the short but light
in a head
in a heart
yesterday i posted about my crap-ass experiences with my own motherhood. i was in pieces as the words spilled out, but by the time i posted them, i had pulled myself together.
because i wrote it out
i let it out
i am not joking when i compare my art & writing to an exorcism.
it so totally is.
my art & my writing keep my demons at bay. keep them from gnawing too deeply into my soul.
some of my stuff might be difficult to read…but don’t worry, you don’t have to read it.
i, however, have to write it.
oh my god
look how happy
when she sets herself
who she is meant
let your hair down
let it go
let it go
oh my god
how right you are
i need to embrace
let go of the past
from the mountain tops
i will take my epiphanies where ever i find them. where ever i can find them.
& i can actually shoot daggers of ice at people who piss me off…or at least, metaphorically speaking i can so do that.
my seven year old was watching the “let it go” video from frozen on youtube over & over again last night as i pranced around the kitchen singing at the top of my lungs. it annoyed the crap out of my sons, but i felt wonderful. watching that princess figure out who she really is & what she is capable of, was seriously liberating. i know it sounds goofy–i am not at all a fan of disney & princesses…but elsa is something else.
(i’m going to go ahead & say i pulled off being a flapper better than my attempt at being a disney princess. see–there’s a reason i never wear evening gowns & heels)
i am so in love
with this time
of the year
when i cannot tell
if the leaves are falling
or the birds are flying
because the trees
are so full of both
to both as they let go
i need to
as the days
grow short & gloomy
grow clear & crispy
it is time to rest
i can let myself
sometimes my “poems” change when i move them from script to text. sometimes they don’t, but sometimes they do. the art journal page is a rough draft. i sometimes make a final draft…sometimes i don’t. these pages are thoughts & possibilities for something more. experiments. works in progress.
i hand my heart
in a corner
i hand my bruised heart
a second thought
i had my broken heart
i hand my tattered heart
i hold my own heart
what the fuck