have i finally exorcised this fucking ghost?
i hope so. i am tired of holding a torch that just burns the fuck out of my fingers. i want to move on and stop wondering which thing that i did wrong was the thing that drove him away.
it needs editing & more substance, etc. but the rough draft is available entirely for reading over at medium.
let me know if you have any suggestions for work that needs to be done on it. i am still pretty close to the story–i was crying as i wrote this last page. but i think in writing it, i am working out a lot of the bullshit that i was holding onto and calling love.
the journal page is from 1995 when seymour & i lived in austin, tx with peacocks on our front lawn .
emails from ex-cheerleaders
high school reunion
for this small town freak
i was going to be famous
i was going to be
bigger than the beatles
life got in the way
now i am a single mom
just another cog
turning circles around
but going nowhere
so if anyone is looking for a good time, i have an invite to my 30 year high school reunion….
i wasn’t invited to my 20 year…the only time i actually was in a relationship. granted it was with dusty…but he’s charming & easy on the eyes. he might have been a good date….
my 10 year i was invited to…and i found a date…but then i ended up deciding it would be more fun just to get laid & skip the reunion.
that was pretty much how a lot of my decision making was done when i was in my 20s.
i have been depressed ever since i got the invite.
plus i had to see dusty to pick up the kids yesterday.
plus every song is still reminding me of seymour as he continues to ignore me….
in other news!
i was invited to join the literati mafia!!! so my imposter’s syndrome and anxiety about anyone noticing me is on full blast.
full blast, y’all.
and i am working on a post for them. which, of course, i am worried will not be good enough…but in my head it is an awesome response to the invite to my high school reunion/another obsessive piece about seymour.
so stay tuned!
(the illustration today is my practicing my figure drawing. lots of nipples & cooch in figure drawing, as it turns out.)
ps. i posted my memoir, in full without illustrations over on medium.
i wrote a little bit more on my memoir.
there is now a page eight and a page nine.
i wrote page nine (i had started but not finished page eight at the time) after waking up from a dream about him. the whole thing felt so delicious. you know those dreams.
and i looked in the mirror–and my hair (at least in my mind) was all like super sexy super model hair.
being one of those people who have few & far between “good hair days,” of course i took a picture.
my dream was so awesome, it gave me good hair.
that says something, right?
a quick doodle as i brainstorm illustration & character representation in my hot & trashy memoir (without the hot & trashy part)
i’m still obsessing about…erm…
writing a memoir
over on tumblr…..
he was my muse
my favorite thing to draw
the only face
i wanted to see
he was my burden
the thing i ran away from
every other day
he was my savior
the only one who ever believed in me
he was my daily reminder
that one day i would lose
everything that ever mattered
i only wanted him
after i had thrown him away
i only let myself love him
after i had lost him.
i don’t know what year this journal entry was from…maybe 1994? 1995? the poem(ish) is from today because every song is reminding me of him…again.