it’s my party i can obsess if i want to

steam rises from the fields
as spring rain
mixes with winter earth
& my heart turns
in circles
thinking of you
i can smell
the ground warming
preparing itself
for growth & green & everything
spring
& my heart turns
in circles
thinking of you
each day grows longer
a full moon wanes
to new
& my heart turns
in circles
thinking of you.

nothing like spring to fuck with one’s love hormones. i made this postcard to send to someone who has probably forgotten me, but it’s my party, i can obsess if i want to.
& i’m not obsessing, really, i just have to put those spring hormones somewhere…& i have no where else to put them. (i already quit okcupid again)
so what’s a harmless crush on someone? so what’s a harmless postcard just to say “hi”?
i know…famous last words….
but, after all, the dodo bird is my spirit animal.

i just got a phone call from my mom to let me know she will be selling the house out from under me.
i kinda saw this coming & was planning to leave anyway & there is no love lost between us…but fuck me my heart hurts right now.
she has no problem tossing out her single-mother daughter & her four grandchildren. at least she had the decency not to say “i love you” at the end of the conversation.
& she did call to let me know she would be selling the house instead of just doing it–my kids have been fearing that we will come home to another family living here….

meanwhile…
here are some glimpses of stuff going on on my patreon page….

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feeling gorey

over on my patreon page i did an art journal page about my dad. somehow, using edward gorey in the illustration seemed to work.
this is the first time i have borrowed from edward gorey–one of my favorite male artists & an early dark influence on my life & art & sense of humor. i was pretty excited about doing it. i might try to do more in the future when my posts are particularly dark & dreary.

i have also done some other art journal pages (on enlightenment &
on ghosting)

as well as another page of “stolen.”

speaking of…i watched warrior queen, a movie about boudica–a celtic queen who kicked roman ass.
i can very much relate to the ancient celtic lifestyle as well as their hatred of romans. does that prove i lived a past life as a celtic queen? who knows. but i am enjoying creating my story about it.

ding dong

i was at the doctor’s office yesterday as i have been avoiding a physical for a number of years. you would think after four kids & not even knowing the number of people who have seen my lovely crotch in baby related matters…i wouldn’t be fazed by having my lady bits cranked open & ogled…but maybe one never learns to enjoy that experience….
anyhoo.
my doctor–literally–said to me, “tell me about your mother.”
it was everything i could do to not launch into a re-enactment of the scene from blade runner...you know the one–and if you don’t, you better get the fuck to a library & check that movie out (the original one.)

i can’t remember where i was going with this.

so my dead dad was going to be shipped back to illinois (aka the place where i live) to be buried with his family in the local catholic cemetery. i have had a stress headache about it since monday. i have been cleaning (i hate cleaning–it seems i do not have a domestic bone in my body) & dreading the descending judgement of my family who would be returning to our childhood home & how i would be viewed. bracing myself for enduring snide little comments about cobwebs & dust & having microwaves & coffee makers (i also hate most appliances other than blenders) brought from the basement to clog the counter space. and do i need to take down my pagan alter & put away my art & witchy things?

then this morning i got word that my mom has decided to cremate him & keep him in texas.
i suspect she is doing it as a last ditch effort to keep him away from his mom whom she was always jealous of & who is buried in the cemetery he was headed for….
but! whatever reason that crazy lady has for keeping my dad in texas, i am grateful.

when i heard my dad had died, all i felt was relief. like the scene in wizard of oz…then dread when i realized that his death meant i would have to see my family.
though i am lonely & isolated, i am not so desperate for company that i would relish a visit from my family.
knowing my little world is safe once again, i feel at peace.
yikes, right?
either i am the most awful person in the world…or…i dunno. maybe i am the most awful person in the world.
ah well–fuck it.

oh, & here are snippets of projects available over on my patreon page…an art journal page plus the final page of “fetish” & two more pages of “stolen”

whispered love spells

yesterday as i was driving
i don’t know why
i played & replayed
the song “loverboy” by billy ocean
i do not know how many times
i listened to the song
feeling a pull in my heart
painful & yet…
i kept playing the song
crying along to the lyrics
feeling the pain of it
but enjoying the pain of it?
being an empath
i am never sure if i am feeling what i feel
or feeling what another person is feeling…
in this case, i guess, billy ocean
but
i kept playing that song
then i looked up to see that the semi-truck in front of me
had a sign on the back of it
a picture of a beacon with the word “beacon”
yesterday i wrote about how my heart
has become a beacon
my heart is a beacon…but
i have not taken down the walls
around it
so i am kind of like a lighthouse
warning of the rocks…
i wonder
how do i take down
the walls
how does my heart
become a beacon
of welcoming?

i am still accepting patrons (just a dollar a month!) over on my patreon page where you can read my whispered love spell and see the entire page of this gustav klimpt inspired inking (yay!)

also, two more pages of “stolen,” my art journal adventure as i explore a past life as a kick-ass celtic warrior queen.

stolen & fetish

in addition to working on a collaboration
with benjamin davis
of his story fetish
an illustration i am doing
using my bamboo pen & ink brush

i am working on turning part of me
into a fiction story
a lot like i did
(am doing)
with “fallen”
the story of a 40ish mother who realizes
she is the devil
“stolen”
is a realization
of a past
life
experience

done in my art journal like my other pages
like my other
self-portraits
but different in that one day
it will be a full-length story.
i am pretty excited about it
though as i am inking yet another treasure map
while my fetish pages dry
i realize i have a lot
going on
and expect myself to totally keep up
with all my projects

and i wonder…what makes me think
i can do all this?
who is that
part of me?

(a dollar a dance…i mean, a dollar a month, gets you full page access to these projects and my undying love. yes, a mere dollar a month. that’s like 3 cents a day. surely i am worth 3 cents a day….)

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