another seeming longing for summer…
what does summer mean to me right now, i wonder?
another seeming longing for summer…
i have been working on getting my patreon page up & running. i have posted several times for my patrons.
i totally have two patrons!!! yay!!!
i was thinking. for those of you who are as poor as me. if you have a way to do trade, i would totally do that. like i be your patron & you be mine? something like that…i’m trying to figure out a way to be accessible while also making some income.
it’s just a boost to know someone thinks my arts, writings, and random ramblings are worth anything.
also! i am applying for the sustainable arts award for mother writers & mother artists. it’s a nice award, and the best part is how much i realize i value myself when i fill out the application telling them who i am.
meanwhile, i have gotten to second base with my goat magdalene. she is producing lots of milk which i share with her kid, claudia. claudia gets one teat, i take the other. so i have fresh goat’s milk for my tea.
in other news, i had a weird thing happen last week which i am just getting to in my art journal.
an epiphany? a moment of enlightenment? a breakthrough?
at the very least, a new story, similar to “fallen” in being a fictionalized telling of something real to me–this time about my most formative past life.
so…become a patron & you can hear all about that.
or, just talk to me on google hangouts, & i’ll tell you all about it.
here are some teasers for my patron page:
including a journal page about my little voices and one about my imbolc meditation on longing (for my work on the healing wheel.)
and two pages of illustrations for a collaboration i am doing with benjamin davis on his story fetish.
the image is based on my childhood memory of making my first ever comic series on a chalkboard in my basement. a version of “hey diddle diddle” where the members of the nursery rhyme were some sort of soap opera.
this guy showed up in my tarot spread a couple of days ago in the “near future” position of my celtic cross spread.
he could either indicate something to be found inside me (self-reliance, closeness to nature, steady & practical) or he could indicate someone coming into my life.
please please please be my punk rock lumberjack poet! my own sweet shepherd.
i can live alone. i can do this. i can sort of be practical if i have to be, but i don’t wanna. i really really don’t wanna.
i read in the empath survival guide that there are three kinds of partners for the full blown empath (me.)
they are the intellect, the empath, and the strong, silent type.
i want door number three.
i argue with intellects; i don’t think i could deal with another empath; i need my lumberjack.
once upon a time i married a strong, silent type. a nice earthy earth sign (taurus.) it was nice. he had his room; i had mine. we ate together–but different meals (he was all meat & potatoes–i am fanatic about veg.) we would go out to live music shows & have cocktails & he would take me out to eat all the time (i like being fed.)
problem was, he didn’t know what to think of me.
and my empathic abilities could not deal with his waffling on whether or not he wanted to be with me.
he pulled away, and i pulled away even further.
like to another state.
but i think that he is the closest to a stable relationship that i have experienced.
fire signs ravage me & leave nothing behind.
air signs irritate me & make me want to do things jut to spite them.
other water signs are fun…but too much of the same leaves no room for passion.
earth signs. they sometimes irritate me too–because they are so fucking stubborn…but they also help ground me.
something i do need.
so, universe, if you are listening. i am ready for my punkrock lumberjack poet now.
it isn’t all fun & games
when your darkness
oozes & embraces
for one thing
you can feel
all the pain
in the world
you feel it
& you no longer know
how to need
you long to feel
but you shut down your
you had to
in order to not collapse
under all the
you can still feel
your own desperate
but you cannot convince yourself
you need to let yourself need
for you to need
is a dangerous thing
that will rip open
i am exploring need in my working the healing wheel. i have realized that i do not let myself need anyone. if you ask me, i will state, “i do not need anyone.”
and in my head, this is true. there is an exit strategy in case of loss. for everyone i know, i have instilled an exit strategy in case i lose them.
i suppose there is something deeply wrong with me
that i refuse to need anyone.
so, weirdly enough, i have realized that i need to learn to need…but i have no idea how to do that.
i just had to
after receiving it in a message
it was the message
three little letters
i still feel the pull
to put a “dear” & a
but i live in a world
but i cannot say for sure why
i suddenly feel
like a dinosaur
(did everyone’s editor switch to hot pink? man, i’m loving the hot pink.)
ps. i totally wish my eyebrows were this full. i think i might start magic markering them in…or get eyebrow plugs.
i am inside myself a lot these days
well, most days
okay, every day
i am also
with loneliness & isolation
that i think would be relieved
but maybe i am one of those people who
even after dreams are achieved
i’m shopping for a publisher. i think my collection is complete, but i am so tired of proofing & editing, that i cannot stand to read through it even one more time to see what needs to be polished.
i am over on the poets & writers site looking though all of the small presses. i have found a few dozen, but i keep looking because i expect to be rejected multiple times and want to be prepared.
i am tired of looking at publishers.
much like my personal life, i just want someone to walk up my driveway and say, “i am here to take care of all your (publishing) needs.”
alas…my driveway is empty…and in serious need of being re-graveled.
the map painting is one of many treasure maps i have made for different art assignments at uw-madison. fuck me, i love a treasure map.
i could be
in love with you & feel
instead of felling like i am
off a cliff
onto a land mine
instead of killing me instantly
& with no pain
will just tear me
letting me die
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.
and today when i tried to explain my lack of hope to him…it quickly turned into a mud slinging free-for-all.
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?
i’m going to die alone.
but at least the universe hasn’t given up on me.
what do you do
if you realize
you are still in love
with the person
remember when you
when he was your best
why are you doing this?
why are you torturing
is this just another
“i’m lonely & looking
to fill in the blanks?”
is this just your way
what is it with you
shouldn’t you have
or…things like this
the lost forever
is it even
so, okay, i’m already hell-bound, but i so love catholic art. and, you know, i noticed yesterday that the inktober prompt was “spell” and i did a picture based on swan lake–a fairy tale where people are under a spell.
and today, the prompt is “chicken” and i did a picture based on saint peter–that jesus-denying motherfucker.
such a fun word.
anyhoo! my art journal inktober fest continues as i delve into that conundrum of feelings i have for my ex-husband. i love him…i hate him…i love him…i hate him. my roller coaster relationship.
do i want to try again? or am i just horny?
more at ten….
(is it me or do my boobs & mommy tummy look better when i’m hung upside down until dead?)
dear sir or ma’am
i think of you often
am i obsessing?)
but i can’t help wondering
what is keeping you
will your hair
will your eyes
of course you will love me
& think i am
& i will think
the sun rises with you
we will make each other
we will make each other
just the way
we like it
& you will never
leave your socks on the floor
i can’t wait to meet you
this came out of nowhere…but i kinda just went with it. ditto on the self-portrait. just going with the flow of my inner romantic while, apparently, my inner cynic is off taking a leak.
i miss sex, y’all.
like i’m some fucking monk….
i know i can go on okcupid & find a hook-up. god knows i’ve had offers when i’ve been on there. (my profile is down right now because i don’t know what i want…or, rather, i don’t think that what i want can be found on a dating site.)
but i don’t work like that. i mean, i will think–sure just sex–that’s cool. but if i’m willing to have sex with you, dude, i’m going to fall in love with you.
if the right person looks at me just the right way, i fall in love. i watched the sound of music with my kids the other day & fell in love with christopher plummer. god he looks good with dark hair–& those piercing eyes…sigh.
man, i miss sex.
it’s been over a year. i don’t know for sure how long because i didn’t know that the last time was the last time.
since september of 2002, i have only had sex with dusty.
that might not seem odd to some of y’all, but here’s the thing, before dusty, i had had sex with 30 people. i was 32 when i met dusty and had decided that my number of partners could absolutely not surpass my age.
he was #31.
so 16 years with only one partner….
i mean, if we were still married, i would be proud of that. but we divorced in 2010. we continued to have a relationship with each other…but he also went off the rails & was having all kinds of relationships with all kinds of people.
while i had lost my mojo.
i lost my mojo.
i miss sex.
but sex is tricky for me. i have all that hard-core catholic programming of sex is bad (unless you are making a baby in wedlock.)
and then i have all the fucked up programming of my fucked up parents who modeled for me that a romantic relationship is a balance of fighting & fucking.
also, being a mom has made me self-conscious about my sex drive. it’s when the minions are away that i remember–
i am by nature a very sexual creature.
i am not going to go into details because of my latent catholicism and because i know i am inviting the wrong kind of attention by talking openly about sex while being a woman.
but i am–mostly–okay with this part of me. if you are into astrology, i am a cancer with a scorpio moon & scorpio rising. that’s like: sex sex emotions sex emotions & sex…with a lot of emotion.
i like sex.
it is something i am good at. (really really good–again, can’t go into details, but…really)
i miss sex.
but i don’t foresee myself having it again…unless i meet someone i can actually have a lasting & healthy relationship with.
some days that feels like the most impossible thing ever.
and i just find myself thinking…
i miss sex.