i need more notebooks

i have decided
on my weapon of choice
it is my pen
my literal fucking pen
like my blood
runs black
with ink
pen
of course it is my pen
what else would it be
why does it take me 
a lifetime
to figure out something
i knew
before i started searching
for an
answer?

okay. so. for me to write…i actually have to write…not type. for me to create, i have to move my hands. i have to doodle. i have to feel the paper under my skin. 
longhand is the language i speak.
otherwise, it just doesn’t work. i have a beginning. a page or two. and then i wander off, trusting my laptop to keep it safe should i ever wander back.
but!
put it on paper. lay that notebook on top of my laptop. or carry it with me everywhere i go….
now that
that is writing.
so yes. i started writing…only to realize, i need more notebooks.

ps. i set up a ko-fi account last night when i was avoiding confronting my desire to start working on a collection from my art journal series….
so! if you want, you can now buy me a coffee notebook

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mystery duckling

when i’m not writing through my layers of issues
creating art
or cooking & chasing my minions around
i am tromping around in work boots
or barefoot
on an unmowed lawn
in rural illinois
i grew up here
i used to look to the horizon as i dreamed of running away
and i did leave
i was gone for almost thirty years
but now i’m back
with the prairie wind & the perfect sky
and my wild lawn full of farm creatures

i found this duckling this morning. she was somewhere she shouldn’t have been…and i cannot figure out how she got there. she was barely alive. i did my morning chores with one hand so i could hold her & warm her up in the other.

then i took this picture to show someone my mystery duckling.

looking at the picture…i realized just how much of the story of my life i had captured in one photograph. i am terrible at photography. i was just trying to get the duckling’s good side. it’s funny. there are so many stories here.

this photograph made me happy.

out with the old; in with the new

i’m trying not to be sad
today
i’m trying not to lose my mind
today
i feel music in my soul
today
not quite drowned out
by the screaming
crying
sometimes playing
sometimes fighting
children
my artist’s soul
& my mother’s heart
trying to live together
in my troubled
self.

october 26, 2016 is the date inside my old journal. the day i started it. today is the day i end it. there is one page left…but i have already spilled some angst onto it and now just have to illustrate my own pain.

the first page of the new journal, also, is already decorated with thoughts fallen from my head.

i love being productive. i love looking forward to a blank page. i love writing down my silly, sad, sentimental, and sordid epiphanies to ponder with pen & ink brush.

ha.
i am not a poet though.
i thought that today when i could not think of the word for what some of you might call my “poems.”
i am not a poet.
i just vomit emotion, often & as colorfully as possible.

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