if i have become unhinged
unglued from reality
if i am actually
buried neck deep
maybe at the bottom of the ocean
or the end of the universe
naked in line at the bank
a double agent
a grave robber
through another time & place
still anchored here
i have decided
i will be alone
until i’m not
my weeds will grow
until i pull them
my lawn will get long
until i cut it
the wrong colors
until i paint them
will wax & wane
& i will not give away
i started to write about this page & realized i had a new page to write.
the same thing happened yesterday when i commented on someone’s post–i looked at my own comment & was all like, damn, them are some pretty words. and i gathered them up & nestled them into my art journal.
page by page.
one page at a time.
before i met & married dusty and had an on-again/off-again dysfunctional relationship from hell with him…i had a practice run for two years with his kentucky twin.
in 1996 just after i lost the best boy i’d ever known, i fell in with this narcissistic, emotionally abusive asshole.
it should have just been a rebound…but he was so good at manipulating me that it lasted for two awful years. he conned me out of thousands of dollars, put my ego in the crapper, and cheated on me like crazy.
this poem was written about six months in.
i should have read these journals back when stuff started going funny with dusty. i had no idea what a narcissist was–not really. nor that they preyed on people like me…people with too much empathy.
i had no idea.
i thought it was love.
just like i thought it was love that kept me with dusty no matter how much of a fuck he was to me.
i should publish these journals as a warning.
i have let you go
so many times
i am not sure
i know how
to hold on
i have spent so much
of my life
trying to get you
of my heart
what if the door
but it’s okay
if you never come back
if you never
come back to me in this life
i always have my next life
i know in my next life
i will get it right
in my next life
you will be
wow. with my scanner you can actually read my journal now. you don’t have to trust that i am transcribing my crazy correctly. now you can read it.
yes, this picture was inspired by egon schiele so much that i basically ripped off one of his self-portraits…but made it me.
stealing like an artist.
i watch the snow fall
“i love the snow,”
i say quietly
and try to keep from
i battle the demons
inherited from my
down one-way streets
“i want to live,”
i try to convince myself
i feel in my heart
and i continue my journey
to keep my heart safe from dusty, i find i have to remember things i would rather forget.
some of you were with me during the really really awful bad terrible fucked-up hello kitty catastrophe.
you know, when dusty started dating a 30 year old in a hello kitty backpack while he was living with me?
how she would come to our apartment & hide in the bushes & wait for him? how she would write graffiti about the two of them on the bike paths around where we lived?
how she gave him a phone so they could “sext” each other?
how he would sneak off to see her & leave me alone pregnant…with a newborn…and his three other children?
how i would happen across the two of them…how i developed an anxiety whenever i left the house that i would see them somewhere, together?
how i would constantly find fucked-up little gifts & notes from her to him on our front step or hanging from the trees around our home?
how he refused to leave madison with me & the kids because he wanted to stay near her?
this is what i have to replay in my head.
the cold way he would look at me when i happened upon them somewhere near our house, embraced.
the way he shoved me when i tried to find out what was going on between them & behind my back.
sitting alone in a courtroom waiting to find out what would happen to me for having a public & profane breakdown.
finding out, too late, from people i thought were friends that this had been going on when i was being told it was not.
this is what i am trying to recover from. among other things. meanwhile, dusty keeps trying to creep back in. still blaming me & telling me what a cold heart i have for not loving him.
i’m tired, y’all.
i’m tired of doing everything alone as he watches & complains that he isn’t being included when i would love to include him–but instead feel it necessary to protect myself from him. i never wanted to do this alone. every day as i struggle to take care of four kids & homestead & have time to myself to do art & to try to keep from losing my mind but losing my mind because i never seem to get time to re-charge because there is always something that needs doing…someone who needs me….
i really like this self-portrait.
i think i should take the ones i feel strongest about and do them on a good watercolor paper. this one…i really like it.
ps. so i worked on this last night while watching the netflix original movie a futile & stupid gesture based on the life of doug kenney (who founded national lampoon)…. i totally recommend it. it made me both laugh & sob–which is my criteria for a good story. it also made me think that maybe it is a good thing that i am largely unrecognized for my art, etc. i mean, these depressed & damaged people who make it big & realize that it fixes nothing & end up killing themselves because they still feel like failures….
so today i am thankful that i have never been successful enough to feel like an utter failure.
i’m going to be the only blog
where someone makes art
talks about said art
draws & writes comics
& ink blot compositions
writes poorly constructed poetry
denies it is poetry at all
tells you her dreams
and analyzes those dreams for you
shares her tarot readings
and other pagan witchy rituals
talks about homesteading
sustainability & low-impact lifestyles
trying to be a locavore
goats, sheep, ducks, chickens, & geese
maybe turkeys too
and other demons perching on one’s psyche
isolation & life as a pariah
also randomly volunteering recipes
& book reviews
while begging someone to talk to her
or at least to marry her
and she may or may not
mention her menstrual cup
and how that is working out….
this is my solemn vow to you, dear reader. also, i challenge you to find another blog that offers you all that. and if you do know one, get me in touch with them so i can run away with them & we can be red-headed pirates together.
(i decided just today that i want to be a red-headed pirate…so my to-do list is to become a redhead & then become a pirate.)
speaking of dreams. i have been having crazy-ass dreams. i’m not sure what’s going on there. and i keep making out with dusty in my dreams and then waking up all pissed off. i need to figure out why i am having those dreams…and remember what fish mean in my dreams. i used to know, but i seem to have forgotten, and now i am having fish dreams like crazy.
also, i just put in a kencove fence to make more pasture because i am not sure i have enough hay for my ruminants. it occurred to me, just recently, that i could actually buy hay in the summer and store it for winter. however, i did not do that and now everyone is running low on hay (or have already sold it to someone else) due to the cold, snowy winter.
but the day was warm & pretty, and i put up this SO EASY to put up temporary electric fence. so now i have a third pasture. yay! and dreams of getting more so i can pasture in another chunk of yard where weeds & canada thistle have gone crazy mad.
plus i am working on a comic about a chicken who died this winter.
yes…a dead chicken comic.
it’s gonna be good.