anti-versaries

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.

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phoenix rising

i realized something today
i am pretty fucking awesome
whether i’ve had
a beer…or two
or
am stone cold sober
whether my bathroom is clean
or the scene
of a toxic event
i am pretty fucking awesome
warts & all
literal & figurative
losing my mind
or all fucking zen
i am incredible
fantastic
amazing
think what you will
of me
but i am the only
one
who
knows for sure
i am
totally
fucking awesome.

after 250 self-portrait art journal pages (this is #251) in the past eleven months…it was bound to happen.
i felt good writing this…it was a bit harder to post as i am all, “what if i’m wrong? what if i suck?” but i totally felt it as i was writing it.
confidence.
belief in myself.
and it felt good.

navel gazing

you look so hard
into
your own heart
using
other people’s eyes
are you lovable?
are you beautiful?
are you special?
are you good?
are you a good person?
do you deserve happiness?
so much time
energy
so much of your own
heart
but you never
stop
you never
look up
& out
to see what is in their
hearts
& to wonder
are they lovable?
special, beautiful, & good?
do they
deserve
your happiness?

moses jones episode 3 page 6

here is another page. i am having fun with creating moses jones pages again. judging by audience participation (number of likes & comments) mojo is not nearly as popular as my other creations, but i love her–so i will keep writing her.
plus,
this comic is another way for me to work out my feelings as a mother, as an ex-wife, and as someone who used to live in a dysfunctional intentional community.
it’s kind of like my self-portrait art journal…but a bit more involved.

my warm bath of despair

i think
i sink
i find despair
so easily
like it’s in the pocket
i forgot to check
but
it’s there
no
matter
if i’ve forgotten
it
or if i am holding
it
close to my heart
eyes closed
breathing in
the familiar smell of
it
warming my cold hands
on
my
own
essence as it drips into
despair.

so i guess sadness is a sweater & despair is a bath? i sure like to immerse myself in my emotions.

the smart one

i have never been
the beautiful one
it has always been
my sister
my friend
my roommate
my co-worker
i’m the other one
“the smart one,”
as one barfly told me
i am the smart one
decidedly not
the beautiful one but
the weird one
the quirky one
the creative one
the gal pal
the one night stand
not
not not not
the forever girl
not
the beautiful one
i’m pretty
i’m the girl next door
i have
a nice
smile
but…you know…
i am not
helen of troy.

i dunno. maybe on some level we all feel this way? i know my sister (“the pretty one,” per that same barfly) was recently lamenting that i was the one everyone thought was prettiest. of course, her only reference was my aunt marilyn…though my other sister’s mother-in-law also said it. but, you know what? that’s a fucking crappy thing to say to any sister. “you’re the pretty one.” fuck that bullshit.
i know i’m not beautiful.
but i have so much more. so much more!

now if i could just stop binge-watching high school romances i might be able to function again.

rain down my soul

i’m on hold
for the moment
neither
moving
forward nor backward
just
quiet
static
my heart beats
still
i breathe
i am
but i am also
not
the rain falls
&
i feel it
in my soul
maybe the rain
is my soul
falling from
great heights
to seep
&
soak
& to remind me
to feel
not just other people’s pain
but also
hope.

marry me?

quick
someone marry me
i can’t bear to wait
a minute more
i can’t bear
the idea
of having to meet
& go through the whole dance
just
quick
someone run away with me
let’s pretend we’ve known each other
all our lives
let’s just skip the awkward parts
go straight to the good stuff
the happily ever after
you’ll have time
to figure me out
i’ll have time
to learn everything
about you
just
quick
someone spend the rest of this life
with me
i need a 25 year long marriage
by tomorrow
if possible.

i commented “marry me?” on an artist’s instagram photo. i couldn’t help it–she is a beautiful red-haired woman who does these fantastic water color pictures of smiling 1950s era women with black eyes & other suspicious injuries.
i’m just going to start asking every fabulous person to marry me. someone is bound to say yes.
i did this one thanksgiving when i couldn’t bear the thought of another family thanksgiving. i went out to a bar and asked everyone for an invitation to their thanksgiving. the bartender ended up inviting me to his–which was being cooked by his roommate who was a renowned chef in town (lexington, ky.) i also got laid & went on to stalk said bartender…but that is another story.
other than the heartbreak of accidentally falling in love only to be dumped after thanksgiving for his lesbian gal pal, i think i did pretty well.
so i plan to take that approach & apply it to my next marriage.

ps. the water color artist has yet to reply. i may have freaked her out.

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