emotional genius

i’m a super
there are some pretty
i do overtime
with my emotions
i tend to
skip over
skip out
sneak in
short cuts
when it comes to developing my
my skill…
lazy lazy lazy

i wrote this after reading so so many well-thought out & highly intellectual pieces of writing.
then i was all like, “okay, don’t be so hard on yourself…i mean, you do a lot in a day. you aren’t lazy.”
but then i came back with…”do you know how many things i do half-assedly?”
and of course i know, because i am there to witness all the times in a day, in a week, in a year, in my lifetime, i pull something out of my ass or just go–“i bet this will work,” without doing the research or taking the time to learn more first.
i mean…i can’t even let my ink dry.
and then i’m all like, “fuck it, blurry ink is part of my style, y’all.”
fuck it.
my mantra.
fuck it.

but you know what i do spend a great deal of time doing thoroughly?
yes, being god-damned emotional and paying attention to my emotions as well as any emotional energy i feel floating in the ether around me as if emotions are the key to the universe.
i know emotions.
i’m not just emotionally intelligent–i am an emotional super genius.


when i was a girl

when i was a girl
i started writing books
books about girls on adventures
girls escaping from their evil mothers
(my father–a violent alcoholic
never appeared
in my stories…
i simply erased him.)
when i was a girl
i started taking long walks
walks through fields
& woods
just thinking
& feeling
the world around me
trying to make sense of it
when i was a girl
i would sit & stare
stare at the horizon
imagine breaching
the walls of the valley
surrounding me
the warm sun on my face
the massive clouds
eluding me
& i would wish i were

this is the second version of this i did. i don’t usually re-do these; they are quick sketches done in ink with no revisions. that’s me. that’s my technique.

yuck. i did a representative picture of myself as a girl. bleah. it just was awful. i’m not even going to show it to you. in fact i burned it in my kitchen sink, saying a spell for my art to listen to the whispers in my head rather than depending on what my eyes see….

recently someone was nice enough to compare some of my journal pages to the pages of william blake. so i checked out some books from the library so i could see what he manifested. when my first drawing failed, i cracked open one of the books and looked at a few of his drawings. this second one was inspired by what i saw there–and the feelings of my heart rather than the what may or may not have been more true.

this is not what i looked like as a girl. i actually had bangs.
but, you know what? fuck bangs.
so this is what i looked like in my heart.
as i rise up over the mackinaw river valley
escaping into the clouds.

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