i would rather be
than notable
an outlaw outcast
rather than a
celebrated saint
i would rather
run with the wolves
than be a
pampered pet
figuring out who i am
is as much about
figuring out
who i am not.

epiphanies while out in public…the other moms clustered together while i hold my own….
again, trying to shake that idea that i am wrong for not wanting to pack up with who society says i should be packing up with.
lady lone wolf….
i like realizing that i am okay with being the dark stranger…but i do need to be careful not to take it too far.
like everything else, i do need to maintain balance.


change comes from within
no one
can change me
just like i cannot
change them
i am not going
to change a world
that is only interested
in changing me
some sort of
& all i can do
is walk away
from the game.

more thoughts from my most recent breakdown/breakthrough…funny how those two things happen back to back. breakdown…breakthrough….

two thoughts on this inking.
1) what is my deal with sweaters?
2) i was working on the page opposite this one–absentmindedly holding an open jar of blue ink–& just forgot i had open ink in my hand. drips galore.


do i feel like
an outsider
because of a
on the outside
did i spend
a life on the
because i believe
at my core
i am
an outsider?

i wonder this. i am comfortable on the fringe…but did society put me here or did i put myself here–convinced of my own pariah-hood?
i am going through another episode where i let myself get too involved with other people & then had a severe reaction to said involvement.
i am in now the process of isolating myself–which most people would say is bad–then why does it feel so good?
i am relieved to be separated from the herd once more.
i am relieved to be my own best company again with only my own projects to think about. i am happy to not be contributing to anything but my own present situation….
is this wrong? i know it is not thought to be healthy…but is that a western notion pushed on us to make us a more productive society? root out the weirdos & misfits & pound those square pegs into the round holes? did i feel i had to be involved in order to be whole? in order to fit in? even though trying to fit in just made me feel so much worse?

my introverted son seems to have no drive to join a tribe just for the sake of joining. he seems content to wait for the right moment to spread his wings. i have never pressured him to be social (only to be kind). he & i don’t desire to be alone alone alone–we just desire to only spend our time with authentic people….

worst supporting actress

i don’t want to be
the main attraction
the director
the head liner
i want to be a
part of the cast
one of the crew
i don’t want to be
the captain
i don’t want it all
to depend on me
i don’t want to go
with the ship
i don’t want
to be
the mom….

unfortunately, i do not play well with others so being part of the cast is not easy for me either…. fuck me. i am still having an identity crisis. i do not want to be alone. i do not want to be the one in charge.
but am i destined to be alone?
a loner?
unable to cooperate with the masses well enough to blend in?
how do i find the balance of community & not being a pissed off misanthrope?

get the flock outta here

a wolf
but not in sheep’s clothing
(they itch too much)
a wolf trapped
in a pasture
letting the grass grow long
to the disgust
of the flock
hiding in the flowers
that the neighbor sheep
long to mow down
a wolf
in plain view
terrified of being noticed
of being
chastised & condemned
for being
who she

(this is about me)
i’m freaking out about city ordinances & the fact that i really just don’t fit in. i grew up in a small town. i suffered for it. so now i move into an even smaller town?
maybe it will all be okay.
but, meanwhile, i am going to be hiding in plain sight, having some panic attacks and visions of angry mobs.

lost girl

i was an outcast from an early age.
at ten months, i was cast off to relatives.
at thirteen months, my baby sister usurped my mother’s love.
i was a neurotic mess by kindergarten.
by high school i assumed no one like me & became
comfortable in my role as a pariah.
i don’t worry about people talking about me
or making fun of me
i just assume they do.
i don’t wait for people to leave me, i leave them first.
this is who i am
this is my suit of armor that keeps me safe
& pulls me
down down down.

my dad crashed the car, drunk driving, when i was ten months old. my pregnant mom ended up in the hospital, i was sent to whomever would take me.
when my sister was born a few months later, my mother who didn’t want another child much less another girl, devoted all her attention to my sister. out of guilt? out of identifying with that unwanted girl child? my mother & my sister were a lot alike whereas i took after my dad. i wonder if she could tell that already when we were infants. nevertheless, anytime my mom wanted to admonish me for being a bad daughter, she would tell me, “you were a wanted baby.” and that is as far into my history as she ever ventured.
i grew up a freak in a small town of conservative christian. even if i was accepted, i had retreated so far inside myself, that i could not find any acceptance.
and this formed me into the socially anxious easy-outcast i am today. you want me to leave? i’m already out the door, man. i don’t even wait for you to realize you want me to leave.


one nice thing
about a lifetime
as a social
not much
is spent trying
fit in
with the
you are able
to see
because your place
in the nosebleed section
for a

i really don’t mind being a pariah. every once in awhile it gets lonely…but i like not having to worry about what people think of me.

another ardhaanarishvara…then it turned into an airship.
sometimes that happens
androgeny & airships…another one of my bands.

shouldve said

i have
so much to say
but the words
come out
all wrong
in stammers
& fragments
i have
so much to say
but my brain
is tornado
& nothing
comes out in the right
my best thoughts
flying away
at a moment’s
only to come back
& settle on me
as i try
to sleep
a dusting of
“oh…i should’ve

a continuing of yesterday’s experience with social anxiety….

my big stupid mouth

my plan is
to never
leave my house again
to never
open my big
stupid mouth
to never be
to never
i have something
to say
to never think
to do with me

my social anxiety & i went to a meeting of like-minded rebels concerned about the forcing of masks on our community where there are zero cases of said virus.
i had so much to say, but quickly became overwhelmed by emotion & basically was only able to stutter out some randomness that probably did not even make sense.
i left the meeting feeling (ironically) even more alone than i had felt before finding the group. i felt like a social pariah.
see? this is why i do art & write & rarely leave my little bubble….

(to be sung to the tune of “creep” by radiohead….)

i would just like
to announce
that i have never
won a blog award
and after like
three years here?
i do not even have
can anyone beat me
at losing?
(i don’t belong here…
i don’t belong here….)

i have been meaning to do this post for awhile. when people “like” something of mine, i check out their blogs & undoubtedly, they are celebrating their 4 millionth follower after two months of blogging & have at least that many awards. usually, those folks don’t actually follow me–i suspect they themselves are fishing for more followers. maybe that’s why they have so many followers. they are good at the fishing.

but, you know what, i love the followers i do have because i know they are following me despite my massive unpopularity & inability to work social media. and i totally get excited each time i get a new follower.

also! anyone i am following, you can know i am following you because i genuinely like your blog. no gimmicks. i just like you.
unlike on twitter or instagram where people will follow me until they realize i am not following them back, and then quit me…breaking my poor little heart…
unlike that, i am sincere about who i follow. i never even check to see if you follow me back.
not that i have the attention span to do that….

and as for awards.
i am not here for awards.
(in fact i have seen on a couple blogs that they actually have a “no awards accepted” thingy…not that i need one–but i totally respect that.)
i am here to share my story & to share my art for anyone who is interested or who feels akin to my words & inkings.
so i am not really counting my followers or waiting for awards. i am here to express myself and to connect with authentic folks like you.

the art above is a postcard i made one time when i was at zinefest and the printing company did not have my postcards done on time. so i made postcards to sell while i sat at my table at zinefest–which ended up being more fun than having already made postcards.
i have stuffed lion just like the one in the inking. lisa the lion, although she is 40 some years old & tattered to bits.

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