maybe some visibility?

i am preparing to publish my third book in two years with raw earth ink.
first there was my collection of comics.
next there was my collection of short stories.
now it is time for my collection of self-portraits.

here is what i am wondering.
would y’all pay $45 for a 310 page book of illustrations & free verse mutterings? at $45 a pop, the books would be 8.5″X11″
another option is to go smaller, to 6″X9″ for $35.
or i could kill some of my darlings and cut the number of pages down by about half to make a $26 8.5″X11″

any thoughts?
i am in the process of removing all my self-portraits from this site (a long long process…so many self-portraits!) so that the only place to find an obsessive amount of my self-portraits will be in my upcoming book the invisible exhibitionist.

thank you for any input!

ps. in my attempts to lure money into my life, i have added a “writer/artist for hire” page
if you want to put a testimonial on my for hire page, i would truly appreciate it! just leave a comment here & i will paste it on to that page. thanks!
pass it on….

happy birthday, mike

my brother died just after 
obama was elected
november is all about
memories of 
my brother
presidential elections &
birthday
twelve years ago today
was the last time

i spoke to him
twelve years
same as the age of my second child
who was just starting to stand up
to crawl
when my brother
died
my children 
who my brother told me
privately
were the most beautiful babies
& offered
as true to his missionary pro-lifer code
to take any children i could not
love

(his wife had opted out of more children
after four)
i think of my brother today
i bake him a cake
have a drink with him
watch a movie that reminds me
of him.…
he was my big brother
he would have been 57 today.

in memory of mike connell

today is the eleventh antiversary of the day my big brother was murdered by the political party he spent his life working for.

above is a pastel i did in memory of his & my relationship.
below is a poem i wrote on the fourth antiversary of his death.

heavy

when someone close to you
dies
it becomes part of your description
she has brown hair
a nice smile
and her brother is dead

birthdays are the hardest
his last one
I didn’t know
it was the last
his voice sad on the telephone
my pledge to keep in touch
this time

we live in a world
where I can obsessively search for
intimate details of his death
available in short video
burning plane
gray matter spattered on a playground
his last words, “oh fuck.”

notorious IT guy for the other side
the “Forrest Gump of stolen elections”
everything reminds me
of him
the sound of a single engine plane
sad songs on the radio
politics, Christmastime, and charismatic men

I drink Irish whiskey this time of year
but it was Scotch at his wake
four years now
four years since the last election
four years since the plane crash
a conspiracy theorist’s wet dream
murder Republican style

when someone close to you
dies
do you let it redefine you?
hello. I’m Connell
a mama, a student, an artist
let me tell you
about my dead brother

itching to leave my cocoon

itching to leave my cocoon
itching to bloom
i’ve been in here too long
safe & snug
throughout my cold & dark
transformation
into a bright eruption
a moth to the moon
a bee to a flower
my purpose
awaits.

stream of consciousness verse. that’s basically how my brain works. if you ever have a conversation with me in person, it’s not too different than reading my brain outbursts here & in my art journal.
disjointed thoughts
mixed metaphors
backstories
in all the wrong places….

but i digress! i am itching to get out of my cocoon. i feel like that is what my time here at my childhood home has been. i feel like that is what my submerging myself into my art journal exploration of my dark & drippy psyche has been.
i’ve written out all the parts of my brain that i can right now. i’ve written them out to make room for new thoughts.
revolutions & epiphanies await.
just have to shake free of the rest of this
chrysalis
rise from my tomb
& go.

for a front row seat to all the amazing things i will do…just a dollar a month, y’all.https://www.patreon.com/emjemccarty

gender bending

my first boyfriend
wore face powder
& lip gloss
(i still remember
the smell of kissing him)
his hair
was longer than mine
but once i shaved
off all
my hair
every one of my boys
had hair
longer than mine
because i so loved
the girly boys
with their long
slender
fingers
& their long
batting
eyelashes
every once in awhile
i dated
a chiseled-chin
dimpled cheeks covered
in manly stubble
all the more fun
to dress
them in
lacy lingerie.

this poem was inspired by a completely harmless innocent tiny little crush on my gender fluid editor-to-be…because i wouldn’t be me if i didn’t develop inappropriately intimate feelings for someone i am to be working with….

meanwhile, the ryan renolds movie marathon continues. (i watched the nines last night & loved it. i am pretty sure i am also a nine & that i have created y’all)
i bet ryan renolds would look hot as fuck dressed in “women’s” clothes….

in other news, i am having dizzy spells & my head feels weird…so i’m pretty sure i have a tumor. here is a conundrum…how does a hypochondriac know when they are actually sick? my anxiety manifests as physical symptoms…but what if i really am sick & just dismissing it as stress-induced?…(see how that can spin out fast?)

also, my lawn really really is supposed to be mowed by conventional standards, but i have a hard time thinking about mowing down all those innocent flowers.
if it weren’t for ticks & mosquitoes, i would totally have a wild as fuck lawn.

may the fourth be with you.

mother grim

open a beer
or open a vein
whiskey shot to the head
or gunshot
you don’t know
you don’t know me
& how it feels
sometimes
to try
every day
to be a mother
to these ones
every day
every day
every
day
i make this decision
bag of wine
or bag over the head?
relish these years
when they are little
they say
kids grow up so fast
you don’t want to miss it
they say
miss it?
i am deep as fuck in it
living it
despite myself
every day

have you ever heard of “highly spirited children?” yeah. i have four of those.
they are wonderful, beautiful, brilliant, funny, explosive, screamy, dramatic little things. i love them dearly, but sometimes i find my thoughts wandering over to the dark side.
right now they are with their dad–who again–challenged our placement agreement.
whenever he does, i examine my determination to keep being their primary caretaker–to make sure i am not doing it for selfish or controlling reasons.
i discovered that even though i sometimes think i am a crap-ass mom…i completely believe it is best for our children to have me as a primary caretaker. even though i sometimes feel i am going insane with the stress of being a single mom & of raising four strong-willed children, i think i owe them that little bit of stability that being with me gives them.
i have been there for them since day one. i have a commitment to them. so, sure, sometimes i think dark thoughts, but hopefully–expressing those dark thoughts will help me work out those demons so i can be a better mom.
that’s important to me, being a good mom.
not a traditional or conventional mom, but the mom they need me to be. a crazy-ass mom who (most the time) can roll with the punches.

ps. i don’t drink box wine or else i would have known to call it box wine not bag of wine. oh well….

change is not death

“If you don’t release something voluntarily, it will cause you pain when it is snatched from you against your will.”

this card was driving me crazy because sometimes it feels like all i do is let things go.
what else can i let go of?
then i caught myself going to a dark
dark
place when i saw a friend’s loving post about his wife.
right? why should that cause me pain??
and that is when i realized what i needed to let go of
my fantasy that i had once had
true love
& had lost it through carelessness…
to stop being angry & depressed about losing something
that was never mine
to begin with.

i journaled about it over on my patreon page (more pages to come) & am trying to process it out.

i also have added a couple of more pages in my new series about being feral.

the turkey stands alone

yesterday
all of my livestock went to live
with a very nice red-haired farmer
who knows what the fuck he is doing
& isn’t just winging it
like some kind of off-kilter homesteading maniac…
i think i learned
many many things
from my livestock experiment 
(not to be confused with my motherhood experiment)
although some of what i learned
is very similar to my motherhood
experiment…
yesterday
my yard emptied out
no more ducks…chickens…goats…or sheep
just the turkey stands alone
and i feel 
a lot
sad
but also
a little
relieved.

i’m telling the minions…it’s a new chapter…a new episode of our lives. change is not necessarily a bad thing. change can be good. really really good. 
but it’s still sad.

meanwhile, i have gotten a little done over on my patreon page.

and a birthday card & a patron card

i will rise again

i am in the midst
of an artist’s block…
my pen won’t cooperate
my hand ignores
everything i tell it
my muses have all gone
missing….

i have been trying to do art journal pages, but i have ended up ripping out pages, ripping up pages, re-doing the same picture over & over & over….
something is amiss.
but i am working on it.
& i am not giving up.

the above is a birthday postcard being sent to a friend…
below are a couple of sneak peeks of art journal pages over on my patreon page…i have been relying heavily on edward gorey to help me through my block…interestingly enough, i drew two different self-portraits with my arms thrown up in the air….

fish fingers & custard

we got the eleventh series of doctor who
from the library
jodie whittaker’s first season
as the doctor
we are beyond excited
i am making fish fingers
& custard
as we have been watching
the matt smith episodes
lately
i could not find custard
in the aisles of a midwestern grocery
& all the pudding had food dye &
corn syrup
so i am making custard from scratch
it is ridiculously
easy to make…
i may suck
in other areas of motherhood
but i know how to
celebrate a new
doctor

in other news…i need to find a place to live. as soon as possible. i can feel the need to be out of here. it sticks to my skin & makes me irritable like time is running out and i do not know what my mom is capable of so i just want to be gone…to be
a ghost….
somewhere
where
she
can
not
hurt
me.

a quick & messy inking of me as the fourth doctor, a man who opened windows in my young mind….

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