today i am empty
today i am nothing
chapped & chafed
as i accept
today i am absurd
every day i am quixotic
that is why
despite the desolate
corners of my soul
& the shadows
that creep & chill
shout out to cervantes & picasso for today’s ink-spiration.
so, hey…i started this poem in a dark place. but as i was writing it, i was also doing yoga. i like to multi-task, y’all. anyhoo…the yoga seemed to help dislodge some of my zen blockage as it were…and i kind of ended on a high-ish note.
i cannot recommend yoga enough for physical, mental, & emotional health. i don’t care what your flexibility or mental state is–yoga works. this is my girl: yoga with adrienne. i love her. she has helped me out of many a dark & painful place.
hmmm…even though i used ink brush…i’m not sure today qualifies as inktober since i did not use ink pen? unless you consider that i wrote the text in pen & do consider my text an essential part of my art??
why do i feel
why do i feel
like i am made
into the earth
how heavy am i?
how heavy is this?
on my soul
where the weight of this
sometimes i feel like it has all been said before. like even i have said it all before. of course there is probably a good reason there is a universal suffering. a human condition. but at least i painted a pretty picture to go with it.
today i called on both my dodo bird & my giant squid. (two of my power animals)
ah crap. it’s september…such a wonderful month for fall smells & sights…and the anti-versary of
meeting my first big love/heartbreak/betrayal
marrying my first husband
& meeting my last big love/heartbreak/betrayal
no wonder i feel like a big bag of hopelessly crappy crap.
fuck you, september
(please stop being hot now & at least give me some 70 degree weather)
image from an art class…moses jones as an archangel, slaughtering dusy–or, you know, the devil.
i watch the snow fall
“i love the snow,”
i say quietly
and try to keep from
i battle the demons
inherited from my
down one-way streets
“i want to live,”
i try to convince myself
i feel in my heart
and i continue my journey
to keep my heart safe from dusty, i find i have to remember things i would rather forget.
some of you were with me during the really really awful bad terrible fucked-up hello kitty catastrophe.
you know, when dusty started dating a 30 year old in a hello kitty backpack while he was living with me?
how she would come to our apartment & hide in the bushes & wait for him? how she would write graffiti about the two of them on the bike paths around where we lived?
how she gave him a phone so they could “sext” each other?
how he would sneak off to see her & leave me alone pregnant…with a newborn…and his three other children?
how i would happen across the two of them…how i developed an anxiety whenever i left the house that i would see them somewhere, together?
how i would constantly find fucked-up little gifts & notes from her to him on our front step or hanging from the trees around our home?
how he refused to leave madison with me & the kids because he wanted to stay near her?
this is what i have to replay in my head.
the cold way he would look at me when i happened upon them somewhere near our house, embraced.
the way he shoved me when i tried to find out what was going on between them & behind my back.
sitting alone in a courtroom waiting to find out what would happen to me for having a public & profane breakdown.
finding out, too late, from people i thought were friends that this had been going on when i was being told it was not.
this is what i am trying to recover from. among other things. meanwhile, dusty keeps trying to creep back in. still blaming me & telling me what a cold heart i have for not loving him.
i’m tired, y’all.
i’m tired of doing everything alone as he watches & complains that he isn’t being included when i would love to include him–but instead feel it necessary to protect myself from him. i never wanted to do this alone. every day as i struggle to take care of four kids & homestead & have time to myself to do art & to try to keep from losing my mind but losing my mind because i never seem to get time to re-charge because there is always something that needs doing…someone who needs me….
i really like this self-portrait.
i think i should take the ones i feel strongest about and do them on a good watercolor paper. this one…i really like it.
ps. so i worked on this last night while watching the netflix original movie a futile & stupid gesture based on the life of doug kenney (who founded national lampoon)…. i totally recommend it. it made me both laugh & sob–which is my criteria for a good story. it also made me think that maybe it is a good thing that i am largely unrecognized for my art, etc. i mean, these depressed & damaged people who make it big & realize that it fixes nothing & end up killing themselves because they still feel like failures….
so today i am thankful that i have never been successful enough to feel like an utter failure.
you can’t put your pain
in front of someone else’s
you can’t let your own darkness
because who are you then?
you are the monster
taking what has hurt you
& hurting others
who can tell i was raised catholic? i swear i am not obsessed with angels nor do i entertain delusions of my own divinity. just the whole concept of wings & horns. the weight they carry. the meanings they portray.
i’m healing from this last dance with darkness…should you be wondering. two steps forward, one step back.
and trying to heal
and forgetting to heal
but then remembering again.
i need this day
to blow itself
sad sings in my heart
as i wonder
where does the wonder
spilled from me
for the world to see
where does the wonder go?
is it looked after?
these parts of me i share
does someone love them?
as i do?
or are they callously treated
i wonder should my wonder suffer
is it best to sew up these wounds
stuff it all back in again
fester in silence?
do i keep to my journey
and continue to unravel