every which way

tomorrow i pack it all into a uhaul and head to wisconsin
tomorrow i begin a new adventure
amidst a new moon
& solar eclipse
& the anti-versary of a molestation
that happened
the very same time
as my beloved dog
becoming lost & eventually found dead
leaving me
with no one to comfort me
these same group of days
that my father’s birthday
falls into
this will be
the first dead father birthday
my emotions are a whirlpool
a tornado
hope & despair spinning fast
as i run away
again
from my childhood home
believing i will find an answer
on the horizon.

the above is a postcard sent to a patron for their support of my patreon page. the following are examples of art to be found on my patreon page.


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episode three…page four….

almost four months later…it’s page four!

if you read the script i posted the other day. here is how it begins.

recap…mojo & the minions went foraging in the woods. moses fought zombies. “accidentally” slaughtered dusty. & they are headed back home when….

so. “consistency” is not my middle name. for anyone looking for my fuck-ups, you may have noticed that at the end of episode two, as they go into the woods, mojo is wearing jeans & a leather coat. however, at the beginning of episode three–seemingly the same day–she is in a skirt & no jacket. and, same day or not, it is doubtful she took a change of clothes into the woods.

i dunno.
maybe i will one day re-do episode two?
maybe?
or it will be a drinking game. find the inconsistency, take a drink.

what is your zombie-fighting preference? jeans or a skirt? leather jacket or no?

anti-versaries….

fifteen years ago
i married the man i thought i would be with
forever
i thought i had done my time
suffered my losses
dug my way back up from hell
& now i was being rewarded
we had a picnic wedding
we had a slip & slide
& a dunk tank
we wore flip flops
made up our vows
and promised to always
always & forever
be there for the other.
what happened?
what went wrong?
like every other event in my life
i have analized
& apologized
& tried to puzzle it out
but i guess i never actually made it out of hell
i was just on a new layer
of fresh pain.

just kidding

people can’t tell the difference
(or maybe they don’t want to)
between my
laughing
& my crying
my being funny
& my being
tragic
but can i blame them?
when i so often
cover my pain
with jokes?

i guess
for everyone
it’s easier to
laugh
than to
cry.

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