festering pot of rot

my words aren’t
making
sense
not even
to me
i feel like i am
shifting
moving
glitching
my thoughts are
disjointed
reluctant
maybe my brain is rotten
a festering
demented
pot of rot
but…my own special
demented
pot of rot….
strangely
i kinda like it
that way…
stumbling over my
words
keeps me honest
makes me look
deeper
discover
more.

i wrote this when i was struggling to find the right words for a few days. i think i have stumbled through and am blundering on with my art journal adventure. though the self-portrait for this page turned out not as i was expecting, & i am posting it even though i feel it speaks badly of me. but who am i if i don’t post my ugly for everyone to see?

i sent my short story collection, tangled together, to a potential publisher today. a crazy little punk rock press hellbent on challenging the system. it reminded me of me. so hopefully they don’t reject me
because
what would that say
about me?
(nothing new–it would say nothing new)

it felt good to send it off. i had to make a new to-do list to hang over my desk.
1. work on art for journal book
2. work on chasing ghosts
3. work on captain blonde beard
4. don’t forget moses jones

also! i am trying to get started on a series of maps. we will see how that goes. the idea is still evolving–percolating–in my festering demented pot of rot.

ps. it appears as if tumblr is not happy about my drawing my boobs so much–or maybe it’s my profanity. you think they could tell the difference between kiddie porn and self-expression. i suspect my account over there will soon be frozen. so, you know, #fucktumblr

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searching for treasure

i am inside myself a lot these days
well, most days
okay, every day
i am also
beside myself
with loneliness & isolation
that i think would be relieved
by companionship
but maybe i am one of those people who
even after dreams are achieved
will remain
empty

i’m shopping for a publisher. i think my collection is complete, but i am so tired of proofing & editing, that i cannot stand to read through it even one more time to see what needs to be polished.
i am over on the poets & writers site looking though all of the small presses. i have found a few dozen, but i keep looking because i expect to be rejected multiple times and want to be prepared.
i am tired of looking at publishers.
much like my personal life, i just want someone to walk up my driveway and say, “i am here to take care of all your (publishing) needs.”

alas…my driveway is empty…and in serious need of being re-graveled.

the map painting is one of many treasure maps i have made for different art assignments at uw-madison. fuck me, i love a treasure map.

i miss you (do you miss me?)

the wonderful poet
& soon-to-be published fiction writer
mike ennenbach 
asked me to paint the portrait 
to be used in his book
(!!!!!!)
thus
infecting me with my own 
writing bug
so i have been absent
both
to paint his portrait
& to work on putting together a fiction collection
of my own….

but do know that i miss you & am sorry i have fallen so far behind on reading your posts.
you know i love you
& miss you like crazy.

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