fuck it

i don’t own a smart phone
i can’t do “text speak”
i even use
correct punctuation
in every correspondence
spelling out
“okeydoke”
even though it takes five minutes
without a keyboard
on my phone.
also,
if you have sent me a dic pic
my phone won’t open
“big” files
so
that’s why i haven’t
texted you back.

i used to correspond with a guy who always pictured me as living in the 1800s because of my quirks & lifestyle.
ha! i found this in the shed out back where farm equipment goes to die. you bet your fucking ass i am mowing my multiple acres of lawn with it.
suck on that modern society.
RIP zero-turn mower.

i decided to skip the trip to iowa, saving money that would have been spent on gas & food for the trip. & to work on art commissions that will mean more income.
i know i will get out of this trap i have dug. i know i will.
just not today.

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woe is me

living inside
your own head
you forget
about
the world outside
a world that works against
single low-income moms
a world
that won’t take a risk
on you
no matter
how good your heart
might be
a world that is set up
to grandstand your options
telling you to
follow your dreams
but in the end
leaves you
very few choices
the more kids
you have
the fewer
choices
they say it takes a village
they don’t tell you
that the village
will quickly tack up
a “no vacancy” sign
when they see
you
coming.

how’s the house hunt going?
well, pretty fucking hard since i can’t even get out to look for a place…& then when i look at the average application for a rental & they want a job & income & job history…
all i feel is despair.
i have savings. i have enough to pay a year’s rent. i have sparkly clean credit. i have child support payments. i have government aid. i spend less money–with four kids–than the average u.s. citizen without dependents does. i am frugal as fuck. but i have to get face to face with a real person–the right person–to convince them that this is enough…& being seemingly physically trapped here at hotel california…how the fuck do i make that happen?
i was going to try to run out to iowa today to look for rentals & someone to convince that i am a good tenant. the minions come home tomorrow….
despair says, “why even bother?”
but i can’t just run over to iowa with four kids in tow. iggy hates road trips (he got that from his dad–not me,) & i don’t want to budget in a stay at a motel (though they do love motel tv.)
so three weeks until the next time i am able to run to iowa sans minions…meanwhile, the lawn grows free now as the lawn mower died on me. so i should get that fixed. i don’t even know how to go about that. i so so so hate being all alone out here.
yes, i’m a feminist, but fuck me if i want to do everything myself. i want someone here who knows how to do all the stuff i suck at. i want someone in my life who appreciates what i can do & who i worship for their ability to fix a mower…or clean a toilet…or just hold me & tell me it’s all going to work out when it feels like the world is spinning out of control.
sigh.

if you want to contribute to my “income”…. here are sneak peaks of some of the posts you would be able to see as a patron of mine….

the main image is of a character of mine that hopefully will one day have a story….

outside the box

i feel
stuck
in the ground
rooted
a tree that longs to run
a dandelion
watching her fluff
on the wind
so badly wanting
to be fluff
on the wind
i want to squat
in a church
or an abandoned warehouse
some place where i can ride my bike
from room
to room
or steal a paddle boat
and learn the river ways
i want to dig my own
hobbit house
go to bed
under the stars
because i haven’t built a roof
yet
i want to teach my kids
show this world
how to live
literally live
outside
the
box.

anomaly

i fell off
the bell curve
i was barely
hanging
on
commercials play
to an empty room
i can’t find a coupon
because
no one seems to be selling
what i am buying
somewhere
over the bell curve
i live
as people stare
bohemian
rhapsody
is the rhythm
of my
life
because i fell off
the bell curve
i will mess up your
survey
muck up
any audit
i am an anomaly
i am me
searching for my perfect
oddball.

i’ve told this story before. i was waiting tables in dallas when a customer, illustrating with hand gestures, said, “this is the bell curve. you are over here.” he pointed to somewhere far left of the bell curve.
that was around the turn of the century.

and i have only gotten stranger with age.

anytime i take my circus troupe to the grocery store. or think about dating. anytime i entertain thoughts of intermingling with society at-large.
i realize how fucking different i am.
which is totally okay
(even thought the kids went on & on about our being stared at in kroger yesterday–but that might have been because misha would not stop sniffing the gum display)
i like being different, as challenging as it can be sometimes.

i don’t know why i am unconventional. i would argue nature over nurture, but, then again, my birth family was pretty weird too.

anyhoo.
it’s me.
anomaly.

(to be sung to the tune of “creep” by radiohead….)

i would just like
to announce
that i have never
won a blog award
and after like
what
three years here?
i do not even have
400 followers.
can anyone beat me
at losing?
(i don’t belong here…
i don’t belong here….)

i have been meaning to do this post for awhile. when people “like” something of mine, i check out their blogs & undoubtedly, they are celebrating their 4 millionth follower after two months of blogging & have at least that many awards. usually, those folks don’t actually follow me–i suspect they themselves are fishing for more followers. maybe that’s why they have so many followers. they are good at the fishing.

but, you know what, i love the followers i do have because i know they are following me despite my massive unpopularity & inability to work social media. and i totally get excited each time i get a new follower.

also! anyone i am following, you can know i am following you because i genuinely like your blog. no gimmicks. i just like you.
unlike on twitter or instagram where people will follow me until they realize i am not following them back, and then quit me…breaking my poor little heart…
unlike that, i am sincere about who i follow. i never even check to see if you follow me back.
not that i have the attention span to do that….

and as for awards.
i am not here for awards.
(in fact i have seen on a couple blogs that they actually have a “no awards accepted” thingy…not that i need one–but i totally respect that.)
i am here to share my story & to share my art for anyone who is interested or who feels akin to my words & inkings.
so i am not really counting my followers or waiting for awards. i am here to express myself and to connect with authentic folks like you.

the art above is a postcard i made one time when i was at zinefest and the printing company did not have my postcards done on time. so i made postcards to sell while i sat at my table at zinefest–which ended up being more fun than having already made postcards.
i have stuffed lion just like the one in the inking. lisa the lion, although she is 40 some years old & tattered to bits.

call of the wild

not quite domesticated
not close really
at all
not fully wild
too much brain
asking questions
of my heart
i am decidedly feral
i can’t follow directions
i hate being caged
i bite
i fight
too much heart
telling my brain
just hush
not wild, not tame
i am
decidedly feral
i can’t
i won’t
follow rules
running away
from convention
my favorite song
is the one
my heart sings
& i listen
even when told
but those who tout what is
normal, thereby good
that i should not
especially
when told by those
who know best
that i should not
not
listen to
that heart song
but
it is my call of the wild
it is
my different drum
& it fills me
& drives me
feral.

embracing my grizzly heart

my grizzy heart
does not want to be
a dancing bear
in your circus
…i’m not proud…nor am i ashamed
…of how many men…i’ve made cry
i come to you
wild
not asking you
…to tame me
…to cage me
i come to you
wild
not wanting you
…to curl up in a ball
…or run away
i come to you wild
because
it is who i am
walk with me
wrestle with me
adventure with me
&
dance
with
me.

i am no longer apologizing for who i am. i am embracing myself. i used to have a reoccurring dream about being hunted by a grizzly bear who never actually hurt me. one day i realized that the grizzly bear represented a part of me that i was afraid of. after i realized that, i stopped having the dream.
i have continued to struggle with the grizzly bear inside of me. with little voices telling me how i am supposed to be. what the world expects of me. and when i try to meet those invisible expectations…part of me always dies.
in relationships i often find myself with either people who want to conquer my inner grizzly, or people who see the grizzly and just get the fuck out of there.

part of my healing is my embracing my grizzly.
bear hugs might be scary…but they are so totally worth it.

MOSES JONES: apocalyptic MAMA

i’m pretty excited about this.

i don’t care anymore what “real” comics are supposed to look like.
i do not give a fuck.
i am doing what i’m doing
& even if i die without turning a single head
i am doing
what
i
want.

devoured

twice
in my life
i’ve thought i found
“the one”
& both
were amazing
before everything turned
awful
twice
in my life
i’ve thought i found
my lost part
my split apart
only to want to
lose it
again
i guess i am luckier
than some
not so lucky
as others
twice
in my life
i’ve thought i found
true love…
will the third time
be the charm?

dreams of dusty and yawning loneliness leave me feeling empty & sad.
i wandered over to “okcupid” as i think i am no longer allowed on “plenty of fish”…and i am not willing to pay to look at pages & pages of men who i am not at all attracted to.

sigh.

there are all these guys who insist they want a different kind of woman. they are all liars. also, there are tons of guys who just want to bitch about how every woman is either a “crack whore” or “playing games.” what the what?

anyhoo.

so i will report back. of course i feel optimistic. until i don’t anymore.

misha wants to know why i am a bunny.
misha wants to know why i am brown.
misha wants to know why a snake is on my feet.

oh if only i knew.

ps. one of my older lambs got tangled in the new fencing i put up. she almost strangled herself, but i did get her untangled.
i guess that would solve my problem of butchering (i am hesitant to butcher) if my lambs just kill themselves….
now i have to watch & see if it was a fluke or if there will be more entanglements.
i don’t know if it would have been better or worse if i was actually electrifying the fence.

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