INKtober seventeeth

i just feel so sad
i cry
& i don’t
know why
but still
the tears come
will there come
a time
when my very being
is not
composed
entirely
of tears?
just because i open
my heart
does not mean
i am someone
you know
i am
quite
unknown
possibly
unknowable
i don’t want to be
alone
but maybe i
cannot
be
anything
but the loneliest person you have ever met.

i still haven’t recovered from the show the mysteries of laura being cancelled…you know, three years ago–but i just found it on netflix and i know it isn’t really that great of a show…but i was emotionally invested nonetheless. c’mon–i’ve seen every episode ever of friends (when originally aired even!) you know i have my shallow bits.

okay.
so i know it has everything to do with dusty & my lingering love for him. my hope for a thing called “us.”
though there is every chance in the world that i will never be successful in any relationship ever.
but who is? you ask. well, from where i’m sitting…everyone.
or i feel like everyone i see is successfully human & relate-able while i am some funky misshapen thing from outer space….

i don’t feel like arting & inking…but i did this anyway–because it is inktober & i’m trying not to be a drop out because how fucking hard is it for someone with my neurotic & compulsive inking habits to not ink something every day?

i am not sure my art journal page nor my blog about it makes any sense today. but, you know, i’m more worried about what the fuck i am going to disappear into on netflix now that i have watched every episode of the mysteries of laura….

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call of the wild

not quite domesticated
not close really
at all
not fully wild
too much brain
asking questions
of my heart
i am decidedly feral
i can’t follow directions
i hate being caged
i bite
i fight
too much heart
telling my brain
just hush
not wild, not tame
i am
decidedly feral
i can’t
i won’t
follow rules
running away
from convention
my favorite song
is the one
my heart sings
& i listen
even when told
but those who tout what is
normal, thereby good
that i should not
especially
when told by those
who know best
that i should not
not
listen to
that heart song
but
it is my call of the wild
it is
my different drum
& it fills me
& drives me
feral.

performance anxiety & high school reunions

emails from ex-cheerleaders
high school reunion
for this small town freak
i was going to be famous
by now
i was going to be
bigger than the beatles
but
you know
life got in the way
now i am a single mom
an unknown
just another cog
turning circles around
social media
but going nowhere
really.

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.

damaged

i’m so tired
of feeling damaged
i’m so tired
of feeling like i’m not worth
your time
like no one will like me
anyway
so why even try
i’m so tired
of doubting myself
of hating myself
of feeling like
i
don’t
matter
& i’m doing it all wrong
everything
wrong
&
no one
likes
me
anyway
i’m so tired
of being
my own
worst
enemy.

creases & folds

i’m lost
in the creases
& folds
of a world that i just don’t
fit
into
lost & confused
by spaces where i should
fit
but
just don’t.

so last week, i was a miserable mess.
i think i am starting to recover. i usually feel better on a new moon. you know, new beginnings & all that. forever the hopeful nihilist.
but there are a few more journal pages from this time of feeling…so fucking lost. lost & forgotten. never to be found. a horrible horrible feeling. i hate feeling lost.
so you know.
that’s coming up.
but i feel much better today.

backwards

you know that social experiment
where you stand
backwards
in an elevator
facing toward everyone
instead of with everyone?
just for a reaction?
just to see
how deeply
it unnerves
them?
that’s me
i am the backward person
in the elevator
my whole life
& personality
is me the wrong way around
in an elevator
unnerving people
with none of us
really able to say
why

pariah prophesies

i am pretty sure
that my opinion
will never be a popular one…
but
somehow
that never stops me
from sharing
in fact
my unpopularity
eggs me on….

so listening to david bowie while doing self-portraits can have interesting effects. this one actually reminds me of my sister patrice. i figure if i see a family resemblance in my self-portraits, i’m doing a good job of it–especially since i rarely look in a mirror–ever. i mean, i am often out in public going, “holy fuck, i have no idea what i look like,” and hoping for the best…though suspicious when everyone is smiling at me in a sad sort of sympathetic way….

inktober 12

i posted this on the inktober group i am in on facebook, i referenced how conflicted i felt about so much color–as if i were channeling the teletubbies…and…nothing.
not one like.
not one comment.

sigh.

is it me? i put on deodorant…
(actually, not technically deodorant, i use baking soda, coconut oil, and essential oils….)
but you know what i mean.

i would like, at some point before i am dead, to not feel like a complete pariah.

and dusty is coming here to stay for a week. part of me is relieved that there will be another grown up here.
part of me just wants to die because the only relief i get is when the man who helped put me in this fucking situation comes to visit.

mostly, i just feel like crying.

i’m going to go take a shower and cry.

death to tyrants.

i’m still a mess.
thank you for asking.
i’m pretty sure no one has even noticed my facebook absence.
i like the word “pariah.”
i often feel like i am one.
pariah.

maybe i shouldn’t live in isolation.
well, we did go to the park today.
so it’s not total isolation.
of course, we drove 15 miles to go to the park.
fuck.
we live in isolation.
in trump-ville, illinois.
okay, not everyone is a republican here, but the votes of this part of illinois are offset by the votes of chicago. this is the red part of illinois.
so red.
and i am here.
a freak.
a pariah.
at the park with my kids….

okay, it wasn’t that bad.
though i have lived in college towns the majority of my life for a reason. i don’t worry about sticking out–too much. college towns are liberal. pekin, illinois…not so much. (up until very recently, their highschool mascot was the “chink”)
fuck a duck.
but small towns can surprise you.
just like liberal towns can surprise you with how white they are
small towns can surprise you with how much they care about you–as a person.
as an individual.

one of the reasons i am so depressed & generally antagonistic
is that i am lovesick
which is extraordinarily dumb
because said person, my unrequited love, is just that
unrequited.
i love him still
after 20 years
or more.
i fucked up a good thing
and now leonard cohen is dead.
(he introduced me to leonard cohen…and yes, i broke down & bought some beer & now i am fuzzy.)

have you ever seen cat on a hot tin roof ? brick drinks to hear that “click.”
that is what it is like sometimes when i drink.
when i am depressed & drinking & just looking for the click.

fuck a duck.

god, i’m grumpy.

shortly after trump (or turnip as i drunkenly typed first) was elected, i was looking at the obituaries and found myself thinking, “ah…the lucky ones.”

anyhoo!
so this is a comic that i thought of today when i realized i could shout, “death to tyrants!” every time i swatted a fly and maybe the universe would carry the action of my killing a small parasite to a realm of the world where that energy could go towards stopping a big parasite….
so i did a comic.
remember, i do comics.
but i really get more satisfaction out of my daily ink blot tests….
hmmm.

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