the pen is mightier

i have decided
on my weapon of choice
it is my pen
my literal fucking pen
like my blood
runs black
with ink
pen
of course it is my pen
what else would it be
why does it take me 
a lifetime
to figure out something
i knew
before i started searching
for an
answer?

so i wrote this one…wait, you were there for it. i wrote it in my last blog post. one of those times where i typed it without writing it first. which is ironic, considering i was posting about how my method is to write longhand. but, no, i typed out this thought, off the cuff, as it were. then i liked it so much i wrote it into my art journal and illustrated it with a self-portrait.

if a fire broke out, and i could only grab my journals or my laptop…. i love my journals. 
of course, my hard drive has all the irreplaceable pictures of my minions…but i love my art journals….

i guess, let’s just hope iggy does not burn my house to the ground so i never have to choose.

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emotional cargo pants

sometimes i think
i must be crying
someone else’s
tears
must be feeling
someone else’s
pain
must be haunted
by someone else’s
ghosts
how could one person
feel
this
much?
maybe i am cursed
maybe i am blessed
maybe it is
my destiny
to pocket
not just my own
suffering
but a piece
of everyone else’s
as well
people who don’t have
all the pocket space
i do
i must be a pair
of emotional
cargo pants
used to carry
all the woes
of the
world.

you know,  emotional cargo pants to go with my sweater of depression. to be found in my neurotic wardrobe.

this one’s a bit messier than usual. the thought was difficult for me to express in the right way. i suspect there is a spectacularly poetic way to do it…but i am falling short & struggling with it.
additionally, my rapidograph pens were being assholes….as is in their nature, but i still love them.

INKtober sixth

is it something in the wind?
is it a changing of the seasons?
you try to remember the last time
you felt
like this
the last time
you realized
you
still
love
him
the last time you convinced yourself
to believe
things could be different between you & him
was it just a few months ago?
longer?
you remember screaming
at him
& throwing him
out of your house
your second son’s birthday…
the last time you invited him in
into your house
& opening
your heart
a little
just a little
the door peeked open
& he pushed his way in
& you pushed him back out again
& again
& again
until you wonder
why is there a revolving door on your heart?
& why
why
after all this time
all these years
why is he still
doing this dance
with you?

selfie with my dodo, y’all.

so i talked to my tarot cards tonight…about my crazy-ass feelings for my ex-husband, aka dusty…
i was told to control my impulses…to not jump into anything…to not abandon the path i have worked so hard on taking….
sigh.
my tarot cards never let me have any fun.
but, of course, they are right.
even if i were to work things out with my very handsome though emotionally stunted & narcissistic ex-husband, i should not–should definitely not–rush into it.
of course, i don’t know how to not rush into things…so i guess now is the time to learn.

in other news,
i lost my favorite pen. it has completely vanished. poof. gone. a replacement tip in the same size is $17.00 (i have several pens with clogged tips & could just switch out a new tip in the size of my favorite pen.) i have ordered one because the art must go on…but, i am on the verge of being very very broke & you know, donations are always welcome…as are purchases of my art.
should i set up a patreon page or something?
ack!
i need an agent/broker.

circus freak

this is my every day.
seriously. in the wee hours, i’m all like, “today will be different!”
by lunchtime i am just another one of the dancing monkeys.

i do like how this one turned out. but i would also re-do it if i could. once that ink is on there–it doesn’t like to change it’s course. that’s why i work in ink rather than watercolors. i like the unforgiving nature of ink–forcing me to live with my mistakes.

update: i did find my missing comics. i found them while looking for a missing pen. i recently unclogged one of my old rapidograph pens after years of it not working.
and now i can’t find it.
it is somewhere nearby…drying out…again.
why do i choose difficult art supplies? maybe for the same reason i birthed difficult children.
i really don’t know…i just know i love them (my pens & my minions.)

a slightly tilted me

something about me is off
a shifting
my magic is askew
yesterday
i was ignored by a librarian
& rebuffed by a mechanic
normally
strangers are strangely nice to me
yesterday…not so much
yesterday i forgot & left the lid
off of one of my temperamental pens
so intent i was on doing battle against
naughty cats
& my pen dried out
& my other pen wouldn’t work
& i felt as if my hands were cut off
yesterday i kept trying to continue a conversation
that i don’t know why i’m having it
but i keep trying to connect
where maybe there is no connection
maybe i am a solitary
witch
& maybe i mess it up
by fighting it
by always fighting
my life & ways….

i recently ordered a new copy of everyday magic & gave my old copy to my son. i ordered a used copy of it and when it arrived there were post-it notes marking all of the love spells. it’s weird. you would think that whoever brought in the used books would have removed all of these post-its. they are sticking out of the book all over the place…. i felt sad for the previous owner of the book. so desperate to find love…and apparently she gave up.
then i started to wonder. maybe the post-its are for me? maybe i was sent a book full of love spells for a reason? maybe i am doing this all wrong? my life….

i feel like i am doing everything all wrong lately.
trying to online date. exposing myself to the callousness of strangers. making myself too too too vulnerable.
trying to connect with people on facebook (yes, i am back on facebook because i am trying to promote mistress of mud–a lovely lovely book i illustrated)
however, i joined a women homesteaders group recently on facebook. because, well, i’m a woman. i homestead. i am desperate for community. and then i’m over-connecting. it’s weird. this fine line for me. wanting to connect…but not wanting so much exposure. wanting to be noticed while i stay safely invisible.
commenting & posting, i feel over-connected.
exposed.
and i start to wonder if i should just say “fuck it” & get off of this over-connected mass of loneliness we call the internet. live in real time.
(but here i am…blogging about it instead)

and i was contacted by a guy on okcupid. it went against two of my rules for me to contact him back. his profile picture (& only one) was of him shirtless in bed. my “eww” rule. also, he had barely written anything on his profile & he had only answered the minimum of match questions. so i couldn’t do my “deal breaker” look-see in his match questions. like guys who don’t believe in evolution…or racist/sexist guys…or anti-feminism guys. that sort of thing. oh! guys who think you should never be comfortable farting around each other. what the what?
so i broke my rules to contact him back. why? he’s a redhead. something in the way he looks in what may or may not be his real profile picture.
so i message him to see what he wants.
he says he would “love” a conversation.
so i try to start one…& he won’t let me. every time i try to start a conversation, he responds in the bare minimum of words possible.

i think he might be an alien.

so that up thar is a picture of my first black lamb with her daddy. i always wanted a black lamb. ever since i was a little girl named “mary.”

IMG_0577

here is her twin with his mama.
lambs are so cute.
i look at them & think, “how am i supposed to eat you?”
like i’m the big bad wolf.

so i need to figure out what is askew in my energy. too much alcohol while the minions are away? over-exposing my solitary witchy ways to the world at large via internet? still not being able to embrace chaos though i have cats & kids & goats eager to be my companions on that path? running away from myself?
am i running away from myself?
who am i?
who am i?
what do i want?

fuck a duck.

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