pea-ed off

lately
i have been
thinking of life
like
the princess & the pea
no–
the pea
is not
for me
you see
i know i am a princess
a true one
at that
for look how easily
my skin
bruises
not to mention
my heart…
the pea is for
every man
i encounter
i hand him
my pea
to see
who
he
will be
but
so far
i have found more frogs
than
princes.

this one cracks me up. but it’s true. i will think, “hey, he’s kinda cute.” then he will do just one thing wrong, and i will be like, “eww. what did i see in him?”
just little things too.
it might just because i am of a certain age with a certain history of dating any fucking mo who came along.
i think i wrote about this the other day. probably after i had written this page. everyone’s a bit of a disappointment to me right now.
yet still i wait to be crushed by the one who can’t sleep a wink because my pea is too hard. (what??)
speaking of, i am goofing off over on okcupid again.
why?
boredom? desperate but not serious? longing for a deep conversation with a nice pair of eyes?

oh! in other news, do not read rick springfield’s memoir–it’s a real stinker. like i have to tell you that.

dreaming you

would you believe me
if i told you
i dreamed you
into
reality?
would you believe me
if i told you
i don’t know you
but
somehow
i need you?
after all
you are next in line
to occupy
my
heart…
would you believe me
if i told you
i have avoided you
hidden myself
away
all my life
because i am afraid
of
your
greatness?
instead i seek out
diminished
versions
of you…
would you believe me
if i told you
i am ready
for dreams
to come
true?

i dreamed the other night of my tall, dark, & handsome. in my dream his name was dan–not david, which i kept forgetting & calling him. the dream caused me to start thinking about love & about inviting love into my life. this ties in a bit with my thinking about my needs and wanting to learn to need someone–as much as that terrifies me.

i wanted to do something beautiful for this post inviting love into my life. i had once before done gustav klimt’s the kiss for a love i have since let go.


i felt his painting of ecstasy might be a good way to look forward to a love i have yet to embrace.

i am hoping to study klimt more. especially seeing as he seems to like curly-qs as much as i do.

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.

to whom it may concern

dear sir or ma’am
i think of you often
(too often?
am i obsessing?)
but i can’t help wondering
what is keeping you
away
from me
&
will your hair
be black
or red?
will your eyes
be green
or brown?
of course you will love me
& think i am
hysterically funny
& beautiful
of course
& i will think
the sun rises with you
we will make each other
very happy
some
day
we will make each other
coffee
just the way
we like it
some
day
& you will never
ever
leave your socks on the floor
i can’t wait to meet you
xxoo.

this came out of nowhere…but i kinda just went with it. ditto on the self-portrait. just going with the flow of my inner romantic while, apparently, my inner cynic is off taking a leak.

of troy

i wish i had a face
that could launch
a thousand ships
or
rather
i wish my face could launch
a thousand ships
i wish wars
were fought
over me
paintings painted
sculptures sculpted
songs sung
to me
i wish someone
was
a mused with me
enough
to have me
hold center stage
in the story of their
life.

i know it’s selfish & vain…and i wouldn’t really want wars fought over me…not really really. maybe a tussle.
i always joked that i had kids so someone would love me best…at least for a little while. and, yes, i am sure they will write stories about me–you know, like mommy dearest….

sigh.

i only know one poem written about me or for me. it was called “sandwich eyes” and was written by someone i used to stalk. it’s okay. he liked that i stalked him & would actually seek me out if i stopped. he was a wonderful poet. one of the best. and it is a really nice poem…but he never loved me. he just enjoyed the attention of a crazy stalker chick.
goddammit, do you know how many musicians i have dated? nothing.
but
i keep reading all these fucking love poems & trying not to be bitter.
it’s hard not to be bitter.
so i guess i’m just supposed to accept that i am not the kind of person to inspire that kind of passion?
or i just haven’t met my homer….

cp11

another take on my being un-a-muse-d…from my 90s comic, confusion perfume.

tinder-hearted

i am a three-legged chair
that he
kicked over
it’s not his fault
i was damaged when i met him
i told him
it’s not his fault
but holy fuck
did he have to break me
more?
so
here i am
now
a pile of tinder
good for what?
if i’m optimistic
if i’m romantic
maybe i could light someone’s way
maybe i could keep someone warm
maybe i could find
a carpenter’s heart
to build me
into something
something
beautiful?
light
warmth
structure…
sure, i could do this alone
light me, warm me, build me
up
& i have done it
alone
but i keep thinking
wouldn’t it be more fun
with two?

egon schiele’s “mother & child” is my inspiration for this self-portrait (oh! it’s a mother & child…knowing egon schiele’s work, i thought it was something more pervy.)

img080

i used the painting for two pieces i did last night. this one turned out all come-hither. you will see the other one later today in my next post. it turned out way more sinister looking. perhaps the difference of ink pen on paper vs. ink brush on canvas? or perhaps the spirit of the two different pieces i was working on?

anyhoo.

i know i am supposed to do all this work on who i am & heal my own damage rather than to lose myself in yet another relationship. and goddammit, i have been working on it…forever, it seems. so don’t judge me for fantasizing about healing with someone else rather than continuing to heal alone.

wouldn’t it be nice if i weren’t the only one trying to piece together my bits? if i could find a kind soul(mate) to soothe my tinder-heart?

maybe i should wonder why i have so much conflict about this. both longing for & judging myself for longing for a romantic relationship (hold the narcissistic asshole.) ack! more journal pages coming up….

local critiques on my artwork:
fidgit: you’re drawing your butt again?
misha: is that a spider in your butt?

from the journal of…

i just realized why i am feeling
so profoundly sad
& heartbroken
lately
i met two of my husbands
& one of my fiances
in septembers past…
september is either a very good
or very bad
month for me
romantically speaking….

and since my romantic value is so intertwined with my heart value…with my self value….

thanks a fucking lot culture that makes women worthless unless they are valued by a man.

fuck me.
or…
don’t fuck me.
i am unfuckable.
just a baby vessel who is spent already and who draws stupid pictures anyway.

there is this song that comes on the radio that makes me want to run over the artist with my truck. james arthur’s “say you won’t let go.”
man, that song pisses me off. it’s like a man proving he’s mr. perfect, caring man…like there is such a thing.
puke.
i am just feeling very oh-so crappy about love & romance & relationships & i just kind of hate everybody right now (not you though.)
if good love exists, i have never actually seen it.
which just pisses me off.

like, what did i do?
did i crush puppies in a past life?
what lesson am i supposed to learn here?

i’m pretty useless these days.
i have produced some art, but i not-so-secretly fear it sucks.
i am a terrible mom.
i just want to crawl in a hole with a bottle of whiskey.
i’m pretty sure i have no friends
or else i’d be saying this to them
not torturing you with it.
and when strangers smile at me in public, i think they must be confused.

sorry if i have sung this song before.
sorry if you are tired of it.
i just feel like crap.

and i hate my art.

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