it’s a distraction
a sleight of hand
to distract me
a warm body
a cold heart
a cold drink & non-stop
the world is a
a “now you see it
now you’ve been distracted
& have completely
don’t look inside
don’t look outside
at the shiny
it’s all better now.
my brain & i
have separate addresses
it keeps my secrets
but only tells me
what i need to know
conspires & plots
my brain speaks
a different language
than i do
would i have to argue
over every little
i am starting INKtober by catching up on my journal pages. a quickie today as well since i was on the road much of the day & am not terribly focused. let’s see how far i get & where i end up this year….
ah crap. it’s september…such a wonderful month for fall smells & sights…and the anti-versary of
meeting my first big love/heartbreak/betrayal
marrying my first husband
& meeting my last big love/heartbreak/betrayal
no wonder i feel like a big bag of hopelessly crappy crap.
fuck you, september
(please stop being hot now & at least give me some 70 degree weather)
image from an art class…moses jones as an archangel, slaughtering dusy–or, you know, the devil.
so i’m totally
i am starting my life
i was holding the map
i’ve got it right
& i’m ready
to do this
to start my life…
(watch me go!)
i didn’t plan this one out either…but i had been wanting to throw in some stigmata…what recovering catholic can resist a little stigmata?
we are kind of in a midst of this vein (ha–no pun intended) of my art journal.
my little revelation.
ooh–revelations. there’s another good catholic outlet….
ps. it is less than a week until my 30 year high school reunion. picture every movie you’ve seen about small town high schools. yeah. that’s it.
and i was carrie…except they didn’t even like me enough to dump pig’s blood on me….
so i still don’t have a date…unless tara makes it down here in time….
should i stay or should i go? i did rsvp “no” to the sit-down steak dinner…but “maybe” to the after bar. instead of saying i had to wash my hair–i said i had to put away my livestock…which is true.
i thought it might be in bad taste to ask if anyone cool would be there. odds are no. i mean, in a class of 70-some, there were very few cool people.
& why would they come back?
(i mean other than to homestead with their four children because they were broke & twice divorced & had no where else to go?)
so i need someone super hot & dazzling to be my most awesome date ever…is david tennant available maybe?
or i will just stay home, drink a beer, and look at the stars.
it’s not just that
i’ve written these words
drawn this face
but i have lived
following my own tracks
i am afraid
to move forward
sometimes…sometimes i just start drawing & see what happens. it’s been more common for me to do this than to plan out an illustration for my words. my thinking about what i’m going to draw before drawing it is a more recent development.
used to be, i would just start drawing.
which is what i did with this one.
but i kept thinking…why does this look so familiar (i mean, other than being a self-portrait)…then it hit me. i unintentionally/ subconsciously? drew me in the style of tank girl.
i love tank girl. she was a comic i was turned on to back in the late 80’s–early 90’s when i used to shave all of my head except my bangs wore trousers & doc martin boots & someone handed me a tank girl comic…because….
and i fell in love.
the same thing happened with love & rockets.
and both of these comics were ones i studied when i was trying to take my illustration skills from my confusion perfume days to my moses jones days.
but i did not set out to–or mean to at all–draw me in the style of tank girl. so now i’m wondering about that and about the bubbles that started out as a ball pit but morphed into a bubble bath which i didn’t realize until i read the last part of my journal entry.
so…why am i tank girl in a bath?
what am i trying to tell myself?
because, as master oogway says, “there are no accidents.”
how much do i hide
how much do i reveal
is too much of me
am i scaring you
do you feel uncomfortable?
is that a good thing
or a bad one?
i want your attention
look at me
look at me
look at me now
now i’m scared
now i’m uncomfortable…
(is that a good thing
or a bad one?)
it’s this dance i do. ever since i was a kid. dressing weird, cutting off all my hair, being different…and then hiding in a corner.
angry at the world for not seeing me…but terrified that they would notice.
a fucking goofy-ass dance.
why am i like this? i am the invisible girl…splashing paint on myself.
is there anything more ridiculous than me?
i’m trying on my life
like a new pair of jeans
these are too tight
look how fat they make me
i will never wear these
why did i think these would
i’m trying on my life
realizing it’s my favorite
pair of jeans
in all the right places
& look how cute my butt looks
i’m going to wear these
i think, often, when i have this one precious week to myself, my head is able to clear and i figure a little bit more out.
i used to get into relationships so that i wouldn’t have to think about my problems. it was so much easier to focus on someone else’s problems.
it is funny to me to realize i now crave this time alone to examine my own problems and actually try to fix them.
just makes me feel so grown up
in all the right ways
my epiphany is that–consciously or not–i did choose this life. i was not hijacked by it–though i do believe, in a way, it also chose me.
but this is where i want to be. ultimately. i might fantasize about running away…a lot…maybe more than the average person, but this is
where i want to be.
who i want to be.
(and i know this isn’t going to magically fix me & make me happy and make me all gung-ho when usually i feel like crying. i know i’m still going to get pissed off & lonely & depressed…but i think i needed to accept that this is my path–this is where i am supposed to be. and start walking it so i can get where i’m going already…unless life is about the journey. then i guess i just need to stop moping in the ditch and hop to it.)