wanted: strong & silent type

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.
thank you

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reminded of you

what if
everyone
i ever fell in love
with
what if
every
crush
every obsession
every
unexplainable
attraction
was my seeing
you
in them?
what if
all these years now
i have been
falling in love
with the parts of
them
that remind me of
you?
that is
if someone can be
reminded
of someone
they’ve never
met
not in this life
anyway…
but someone
i can feel
in
my
heart
nevertheless.

my version of gustav klimt’s judith I.
i used bamboo pen & ink brush. i really really like the way it turned out.
i did not see the head in her hand until i was at that part of the painting. i turned it into the head of the “you” in my poem. now i realize it is intended to be the decapitated head of the man judith seduced to save her village.
tomato–tomahto.

ps. there is only one page left in my current art journal. endings & beginnings.

frosty hot fantasy

a perverse part of me
unorthodox
&
unconventional
gets so excited
by this kind of weather
by a cold
hard
snowy
winter
as i find myself
fantasizing
about
wood burning stoves
in cabins built
by hand
crispy mornings
under a quilt
before going out
to tend to critters
&
chop
wood
bacon smells
& sourdough
flapjacks
coffee
on the front porch
while we wear
layers
&
layers
blankets over jackets
hats
with
ear flaps
watching
children & dogs
laughing in the snow
me & my
punk rock
lumberjack
poet.

i’m just going to alternate between love thoughts & demonic possessions in my art journal.
also…apparently i have problems with my face today.
poop.

love notes

love is trying
to find me
i dream it
in the night
love is on its way
it’s just that the phone
reception
is bad &
i keep dialing
the wrong number
but love is
determined
& sends me
messages
any way it can
so i check the mailbox
with
religious
fevor
i watch the sky
for
smoke
signals
i check the leg
of every
wayward
dove
because
love
love will find me
like a dandelion
wish
on the
wind.

i like to throw y’all a curve ball every once in awhile. let my inner romantic take the wheel. she deserves a turn. i mean, my demons wreak havoc with my art journal.
of course, some would say that love is just another demon.
maybe
maybe
but by now
it’s pretty clear
i dig my demons.

this self-portrait is another rip-off of a gustav klimt. i changed the color scheme but kept the hairdo. i’m not sure i can pull it off, but thought it was close enough to the real thing.

my brain hurts (but my heart wants all the attention)

demented
deranged
like a mix tape
stuck on a loop
picking petals
off of flowers
loves me
loves me not
surely loves me
now
surely surely
at least a little?
how about now?
at least give me my heart
back
i’m surely sure
i need it
if i want to survive
this
demented
deranged
long ride on a
short
track
& please don’t
leave
me
alone
to figure out
the end
all on my
own.

in our ever-loving & slightly incestuous wordpress community, there is the inevitable inspiration via another blog.
after reading mike’s post about icarus, i was all like, crap–i haven’t done me as icarus yet.
so here you go.
i am the sun (look at me shine) that i fly too close to…but, my wings are not melting. goddammit, i am not falling. i am going to fly right into my own light. just you watch me.

love in the time of ocd

is it love
or ocd
do i want him
or is it just
that i want to get it
right
have a do-over
fix a wrong
scrub a black mark off
my soul
forgive me, ex-boyfriend
for i have sinned
it might be love
but it is most definitely
ocd
he is my crooked painting
my light switch
maybe left on
he is that itch
that involuntary
twitch
getting over him
getting over it
is my
mount everest
(i’m ready to start
climbing)

busy with the self-analysis, and it felt like an egon schiele moment.

i like how it turned out. this is how i feel. lumpy bumpy and dislocated. hunting for publishers and refreshing myself on writing query letters after a couple of decades of lying low…as i said in yesterday’s post, it all has me feeling fragile. trying to ignore the little voices as they snarl, “who the fuck would publish you?”
grumpy bumpy lumpy me.

there are no happy endings

you see
i’m that person 
in a corner
because
nobody said
about me
nobody put
baby in a corner
leaving me
alone
in a corner
sad
in a corner
crying at those movies
where the misfit
finds
true love
after all
because i know
nobody
loves 
misfits
&
there’s no such thing
as
true love.

i’m just going to stick with being a faun. it speaks of my true nature…and, as a faun, there is no need for pants.
no panties!

if you are wondering, this is what a friday night watching netflix original movies while drinking wine & eating gummy worms looks like. 

my big brother

while i typed novels
that no one
would
ever
read
on an electric
typewriter
he led the way
in that whole website fad
making a fortune
designing political
websites….
while he wore
a tie
& his million
dollar
smile
rubbing elbows
with bushes & kochs
i was
stomping about
in my doc martin
boots
head
half
shaved
& packing up my
compact car
at a moment’s notice
to go
where
the wind blew me….
we both kept pictures
of the other
to show off
with a laugh
& bipartisan pride
“can you believe we are related?”

twenty-nine days after all saint’s day (day of the dead) is my brother mike’s birthday. nineteen days after that is his death day. i spend a lot of this time of the year thinking of my brother.
so when i saw sarah’s post on her blog “fresh hell” about her amazing brother, i had to chime in in the comments.
and, of course, that wasn’t enough.
so it became a journal page of it’s own.

blackbird man

my shadow man
my thing of nightmares
my samhain visitor
i give you my heart
but you want my soul
i fight for my life
while accepting my death
my birdman lover
i am your
lonely
plaything
a half-dead
essence
a half-living
carcass
not knowing
whether to welcome you
or to fear you
if i should
hold you
or
let you go.

i keep thinking about this dream i had. it felt very strong. my subconscious loves to talk to me through my dreams. this seemed like a message.
especially as it came the night of the witch’s new year.
the time of year when the veil between the living & the dead is at its most flimsy.

i think it has everything to do with relationships. with myself. with men. with the world around me.

i do not remember an ankh in the dream, but for some reason i feel compelled to put the egyptian key of life in the inkings i have done about my dream.

i want to play with it more.
both as a message for me to heed as well as a potential story.

hmmm…my blackbird man….

also, this is the last page of my current journal. i have now done almost three hundred self-portraits since last october.
i made one page for all of my art journal self-portraits in my attempt to stream-line my art & website.
i hope my site is looking better & making sense.

tomorrow–a new day & a new journal!

 

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