on dreams, demons, & being haunted

in the dream
it was a lonely house
on a hill
shrouded in darkness
foreboding
terrifying
until i was forced to enter
to save us all
from a greater
danger…
the house was
beautiful
on the inside
…but haunted…
a specter
rose up
threateningly
behind my companion
i wrestled it to the ground
only to realize
it was just
a child
“tell me why
you have so much
anger?”
i asked the child
&
the pain
was
released.

so this is a dream i had. it was pretty profound & felt really meaningful. i laid in bed pondering it. what do i do with this?
am i supposed to help other people exorcise their demons? or is it just another pat on the back from the universe for doing all the work to wrestle my own?
of course, i am still wrestling my demons.
case in point, my inking today is heavily borrowed from the artist david mack because i am going through a thing where i think my own work sucks & what is the point?
today, while on a walk, i started asking my frowning face–“why so stressed? what is there really to be stressed about?” and for a moment i let myself smile again.
but i can find reasons to be sad & even woke up this morning to a dream of my telling someone that sometimes i just don’t have a smile inside me….

so, yeah, still wrestling some demons….

let’s take a little break with some moses jones

holy crap, y’all
i got a little addicted to the okcupid.
i jokingly told my kids that it was my favorite
online game.
i would go to the profile of someone
who supposedly
i had more in common with
& very little uncommon with
and i would read through their answers
to those random
fucked up questions
i think i lost two days?
three?
depression, loneliness, & online dating
my idea was
get this
i would find someone sane
to date, fall in love, & rule the world with
and i looked at all these guys
while giving some vanilla (vanilla for me)
answers
to hard questions
(some i did answer more hap-hazardly)
hoping to find mr. right-minded.
you know the guy who
lets me be as crazy as i need to be
but is there to catch me when i fall.
i messaged some of those guys.
nothing back.
so then one night i come across the most bitterly
funny
& dark
& admittedly not-right-in-the-head profile
and i’m all like
yes!
i love you!
&, of course, not being right in the head
myself
i message him this.
nope.
not even the crazies
are crazy enough
to date me.

but enough about me.
here is page two of my graphic novel moses jones: apocalyptic mama. i haven’t done any art in the past couple of days due to binging on okcupid & then crying myself to sleep, but i hope to do some tonight. maybe a new page of mojo? so those of you who have never read it, take a peek. there is a link up yonder.  and if you feel like collaborating &/or dating & running away with me. give me a holler.

(“rosanna” by toto just came on my mix, so i’m guess that that is a sign that the one crazy enough to sweep me off my feet is near 😉 )

ps. i put this photo of me awkwardly playing with my bokken on my okcupid profile…bad idea or good idea?

picture7

emperor ming: destiny’s chicken

maybe this is what happens when a comic artist
starts homesteading.

i like this. this is page one. i haven’t figured out page two yet. i have been too busy obsessing over on okcupid.

dammit! i so said i wasn’t going to do that!

fucking loneliness. and the more i read about other people the more i become convinced that i am an anomaly and that the only person who is going to embrace me & my lifestyle is the grifter/drifter character (played by both paul newman & don johnson) from the movie/mini-series the long, hot summer.

so that’s what i’m looking for now.

here’s a funny one. i got messaged that women like me used to be worshipped and the said messenger would happily cast rose petals at my feet & worship me accordingly as his queen.
i love messages like this. i was all ready to message back:
yes. i used to lead armies, burn cities, and demand the sacrifice of first born sons…but now i am trapped in illinois with four kids & no money or viable options for romance. fucking karma.

however, on okcupid, you now have to “like” someone in order to message them & i was unwilling to like this guy because he saw meteor showers as a waste of time & would never go for a walk in the woods or on a road trip.
seriously.
so what did he think our chances were? did he even read my profile?

silly internet dating.

the guys i do like do not message me back. (sad face)
but it is kind of fun digging through the brain closets of random strangers via not-so-well-thought-out multiple choice questions.

that’s all i got right now.
disillusionment & dead chicken comics.

aren’t you glad you’re following me?

a blank page

so much hope
so much possibility
but how smudged
it gets
as it sits & waits
for its purpose

ugg. i forgot how annoying it is to have to put panels on a page. i need to re-think this. sure, there is probably a program or something for doing this digitally that takes like two seconds, but i am a chisel & hammer type of gal, y’all. i am a luddite. i like my pen in hand and the possibility (probability) of human error.

but!

i have it paneled. the first page of emperor ming:  one chicken’s dance with destiny

ha! i just came up with that. but it’s catchy, yes?

so the goats have figured out how to just walk right out & over the fence that is supposed to be electrified but is not yet electrified and i am left in annoyed awe of their intelligence.
agatha & quixote met me at the back door to say “hi!” before i escorted them back to their pasture–again.
agatha has also started jumping the fence to go in the pasture with luke (the ram) and buttercup (a pregnant ewe.) then luke starts chasing her (to fight or fuck??) and agatha gets pissed off & rears up into that intimidating goat attack pose before lowering her head to very lightly butt heads with him.
ruminants are weird.
but so lovable.

and whoever had money on my not being able to keep from stalking over to okcupid to look at profiles & answer questions–you won!
i found my first trumpette match. scary scary. i know there are trump supporters in theory…but in reality it is so so so disconcerting. this guy was spooky too. and of course, physically attractive. dammit. couldn’t white supremacist fucktards all be just as unattractive on the outside as they are on the inside?  that would simplify things.
most guys i am matched with have a notation that they will not date trump supporters. that is the world we live in now. politics have merged with dating.
also, i put some of my art on my profile…good idea or bad idea? they’re going to find out i am crazy sooner or later. may as well do it with art, i figure.

hey, who left my heart open?

my heart is wide open
maybe too
open?
i can feel love everywhere
blowing in the
wind
i sniff around
smelling the heat of it
in the air around me
my heart
is wide open
an uncomfortable
but not
unwelcome
sensation
i wonder if i should
lock it away
again
i wonder if i even
remember
how to.

so this has been going on for awhile. each new connection with a person excites me. like falling in love. like my heart is that thing they have in submarines checking around for shapes in the water & going “blip” when it hits something.

that’s poetic, right?

blip goes my heart screen when it senses someone…a kindred spirit.
blip.

i’m not sure what to do about it. do i let it keep searching? should i keep getting excited with each possible spotting? with each blip of my heart?

i’m having no luck on the internet dating. i know it’s been all of–what? three days? i am just going to think of it as setting out the bait & checking back if i hear something go snap.

or blip

instead of obsessively checking it & reading profiles and answering 10,000 personality questions in hopes of finding that perfect match.
my profile is up.
i will either get a bite or i won’t.
plus, i think i have either terrible luck or choose the wrong guys. so i am trying to see who chooses me. i have messaged a couple…no reply.
i know i’m pretty. i know i’m smart…i also know i am irretrievably strange. so maybe there will be no takers?

blip

in other news:

1.)  agatha…& maybe quixote, have figured out how to get over/past/around the new fence if they feel compelled to do so.
goats are a pain in the ass…but, like my minions, i would not trade them. i love my goats as much as they piss me off sometimes.
i am going to put a permanent pasture up where i have the temporary fence as i have the woven fence in a place where i cannot properly electrify it.
do i ask dusty for help? or do we learn how to do these things without him?

2.)  i spend an extraordinary amount of time & energy every day getting my four year old into costume. he wakes up before the sun with a costume in his hand demanding my assistance. lately it is a full body ninja outfit which means he then needs my help to take it off when he has to pee. then back on again. then off when he decides he is no longer a ninja. then back on again.
seriously. i am going to lose my fucking mind.
again. i love my minions…but this one won’t take “no” for an answer, and i can only tolerate about an hour of shrieking before i give in.

3.)  so what’s the deal with freckle haters? (speaking of answering 10,000 personality questions) what do people have against freckles? i have answered at least two questions about whether or not i like freckles & how my potential partner should feel about freckles. what the fuck, y’all? what is not to like about freckles?
to quote my mother, “freckles are kisses from the sun.”
y’all should be so lucky to date a freckled goddess.

4.)  and i had to break down & buy some beer. hops. hops calm me down.
i had to fucking calm down.

5.)  i totally drew a picture to go with this journal entry…but i am still out of sorts & it is totally affecting my art. so i am not posting the picture because it super sucks enough that i am unwilling to share it. is that a first? that might be a first. i think i am going to watch lovesick on netflix & try to doodle out of my funk.

out of sorts

holy moly i am so out of sorts.
it’s a january thunderstorm. i quit drinking & facebook all in the same week. i’m already feeling all rejected by the men of “okcupid”–though the men there do seem way cooler than the men of “plenty of fish.” my kids are on overdrive and i keep thinking, “if i can barely deal with my life, how can i ever expect to find someone to jump in & be all–yes! this is what i want.”
other than dusty, who would jump back in in a heartbeat. which is a tempting thought sometimes when i am lonely & frazzled and then i have to remind myself of all the crap he has done to me. all the crap he says to me. and the crap i feel like when he is around.
crap.
and my berkey water filter has quit working.
all while i’m reading future home of the living god. reading books, as an empath, is risky. i get waaaaaay way too into the plot & characters and actually lose myself.
so i am currently lost in a dystopian nightmare.
and my end-of-the-world water filter has gone kaput.

i am so out of sorts.

i’m trying to draw this comic, but my kids are so super needy. plus there is laundry & dishes & food to make.
and i am crawling out of skin.

did i mention the winter thunderstorms of doom?

okay. here is an okcupid story to cheer us all up.
someone from the small town i live in messaged me via okcupid to tell me i should check out his profile and told me how he had read mine twice before he messaged me.
so, hey, he’s not physically my type, but i go check out his profile. first off, i see he is looking for a woman who owns a pair of heels and actually wears them–who dresses up every now & then.
the highest heels i own are on my motorcycle boots.
then he goes on to say in the “message me if…” that a woman should message him if she agrees that she should wear stockings & heels in the bedroom.
he says he read my profile twice?
i go on & on about sustainability in my profile & refer to myself as punk rock.
i don’t have on any make-up in my photos…i don’t even know how to put on make-up. my hair is short & messy–like it always is. (i’m assuming here that if he wants a woman to dress up every now & then he probably expects make-up and hair done.)
and in the “6 things i can’t live without” section, i have listed as my number one thing:  barefeet….
what woman who values barefeet would put on heels ever–especially in the bedroom??
why would dude think i was his type at all?

why not just have “message me if you are a warm body”?

internet dating is so weird.

re-cap:  end of the world, y’all, and my water filter is not working & i am still alone & lonely.
plus i have no beer.

talk to me

yesterday
while i was cursing & fighting ice
to give water to my livestock
i stepped on a frozen chicken egg
you know what?
it looked almost exactly like a squashed
cadbury egg…except no chocolate.

i should have taken a picture
but i am one of the only people
without a smart phone
so my life goes largely
undocumented.

i quit facebook
again
so now y’all are going to have to hear
random thoughts from me.
or not
but would a conversation kill you?

i so need help

can you not see me?
can you not
hear me?
or do you
just
not
care?

here’s another from last week’s severe depression. as you can see, (maybe?) it has been illustrated now that i have a little levity to my mood.
but
i assure you…when i wrote it i was in the depths of one of those funks where i don’t want to die…but i don’t want to be alive either.
a fucked up place to be.

see…my life overwhelms me. i mean, that is understating it…but my life overwhelms me. i feel like i am wrapped in squid five miles underwater. my life overwhelms me. i know other moms have done it. i know other women have done it. i know other people have survived worse…but my life overwhelms me.

…& i don’t want to do it alone.

heavy

when someone close to you
dies
it becomes part of your description
she has brown hair
a nice smile
and her brother is dead

birthdays are the hardest
his last one
I didn’t know
it was the last
his voice sad on the telephone
my pledge to keep in touch
this time

we live in a world
where I can obsessively search for
intimate details of his death
available in short video
burning plane
gray matter splattered on a playground
his last words, “oh, fuck.”

notorious IT guy for the other side
the Forrest Gump of stolen elections
everything reminds me
of him
the sound of a single engine plane
sad songs on the radio
politics, Christmastime, and charismatic men

I drink Irish whiskey this time of year
but it was Scotch at his wake
four years now
four years since the last election
four years since the plane crash
a conspiracy theorist’s wet dream
murder Republican style

when someone close to you
dies
do you let it redefine you?
hello, I’m Connell
a mama, a student, an artist
let me tell you
about my dead brother

(written in 2012)

fine, i quit.

i know there is absolutely no point to posting this, but i am quitting social media. since no one actually responds to my art…
and since it breaks my heart so terribly & painfully to be ignored…
i have no choice but to quit social media.

i will keep making art.

but all by my lonesome.

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