tell me i’m
tell me i’m
i’m on hold
for the moment
forward nor backward
my heart beats
but i am also
the rain falls
i feel it
in my soul
maybe the rain
is my soul
& to remind me
not just other people’s pain
is it the wind in
my leg hair or did one more
fucking flea hop on?
like grizzly man i
try to be one with nature
until the fleas feast
when the fleas knaw on
the tender ankles of my
kids…fuck it–it’s war
i will be feeling
fleas on my skin long after
the sun has burned out
i am pretty sure
my personal hell will be
flea bites all night long
yes there is whiskey
in my coffee but i am
desperate & sad
because i wanted to cheer up mike and his haiku of sadness
i was determined to do some “real time” haiku throughout my day…however, it quickly morphed into my own battle with fleas. so–maybe it can be a “well at least i don’t have fleas!” kind of take on loneliness & heartache?
having fleas does kind of put things in perspective.
stay tuned…maybe i will move past my flea infestation at some point in the day….
also–totally check out mike’s manic word depot–it contains beautiful, heart wrenching writings & does not have fleas.
like a blanket
like a fog
i let it curl around
& it fills me
i want to tell someone
i want to cry
i want comfort
but i find
i do just feel so very heavy with sadness. this was all i could muster to write. my sadness has to do with my sister visiting & all the history there & everything that never changes but that i need so desperately to change…and then the sadness is my needing to talk to someone about it & having no one to talk to. you know what i mean, i need a confidant in my life. that person who listens to me bitch about my family. or talk to about my day. that person i tell all the cute things my kids did. or why i feel overwhelmed. or elated. excited. or…profoundly sad. that person who holds me without judgement & tells me everything will be okay.
so it turns into some sort of vicious circle. i’m sad about something…& then i’m more sad because i have no one to share my sad with. and then i’m super sad about that.
like a snowballing avalanche of sad.
that’s me…right now.
i am not on facebook or twitter anymore because i always feel i am spitting into an ocean… (though i did just find out that my facebook accounts have remained up despite my deactivating them last spring. i deactivated again…but if someone sees they are still up, please let me know.)
i have random thoughts throughout the day.
i am single & rural & in the company of children.
if these random thoughts are not “art journal worthy” they just waft away with the wind….
“i think i’m just going to have another beer & be sad.”
now i can’t remember any other random thoughts…maybe because of the one beer i did have.
but here’s a hypothetical for y’all. say a super cute, very cool guy contacted you via okcupid. he was what you were advertising for: an artist farmer.
so he contacts you & you message back & forth & seem to have a lot in common & possibly some chemistry….. then he gives you his contact information (website, phone number, & instagram) & he deactivates his okcupid account.
so you go to his website & you message him.
& he messages back that he is very busy but thinks your artwork is great & smiley face.
& that is the last you hear from him
is that it? is it over? i am not great with relationships (what? no!) and i am a bit socially retarded (impossible!)
that was it, wasn’t it? something didn’t click after all? maybe i’m too crazy? or i have four kids? or he found the perfect woman for him in between messages to me?
this is impossible. dating is for sadists…& the masochists who love them.
i am going to have that second beer.
fuck it all anyway.
ps. i went outside to put away goats & ducks & chickens & geese & hamlet the turkey and now i feel a bit less morose…but i still might have beer & watch a tragically romantic movie.
pss. does anyone else get a little sad when they post something they think is smashing & it gets lukewarm response?
tears my heart
i some how manage
even though i long
to just lie down
& not get up again
could there possibly be
than being a mother
& seeing the worst of yourself
broadcast by innocents
as you try so fucking hard
to be your best for them…
but it seems
no matter how hard you try
to be beautiful for them
it’s the ugly bits they pick up
it’s the ugly bits they collect
as if it is their purpose
to only mirror
you wish you weren’t.
i had an identity crisis when i became a mom. i didn’t want to be my mom, i didn’t know how to be me, i was grasping for who i was supposed to be (i even got a mom bob and wore capris for a bit.)
as a fictional mom, i was doing pretty good…as a mother.
but i was betraying who i was inside.
and eventually motherhood started to destroy me.
a battle ensued.
i think it might still be going on.
so i gave up on being the perfect mom. i tried to find balance.
being a mom and being myself.
it’s an ongoing thing. like everything else. a work in progress. maybe one day i will know what it feels like to feel content with myself as a mother and as a human being.
i did this picture by spilling ink
and looking for images
in the shadows & shades of the ink
i spilled this ink
to send another love note
to a person who doesn’t want me
but at least i’m making art
while i mope
and try to find my way.
meanwhile, i really need to do another page of moses jones. it’s time for that once-a-month page.
but my garden is weeded. my minions are fed. my ducks are laying. my bees are buzzing. life goes on.