INKtober day twenty-eight–time

today is rough for me.
i keep staring at my facebook feed. watching all the horrific stories coming from standing rock and the water protectors who are fighting the pipeline and having their rights and their bodies trampled on…
sigh.
i feel it in my bones. people turning their backs. not looking. and my heart hurts.
how is this world going to get better if everyone pretends it isn’t happening? if everyone looks away? if everyone says it’s okay to treat people like this? treat the environment like this?
and then there is the impending u.s. election where it is vote for this monster or vote for this monster, but, by god, don’t vote for someone who isn’t a monster because then the wrong monster might get elected and it will be all. your. fault.

what if none of us voted for either of the monsters?
what if the u.s. finally broke down this bogus two party system that is morphing into a one party system.

the storm clouds gather.
i try to hold onto hope.
we have to hold onto hope.
there has to be a way out of this mess.

so i inked & inked & inked and kids jumped on me while i tried to ink and weird crap came out of my head and onto my paper and i couldn’t make my first picture work (titled: you are here)

youarehere

it’s a bit fucked up in many different ways. i don’t know where i was going with it. i never do. i just start moving my pen & see what happens. i think my second one, “time,” worked a little better…but i still feel like my brain is a puddle and i need to just…relax….

relax….

breathe deep and focus on a better tomorrow.

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INKtober day twenty-seven–for the birds

i dunno…too much dr. seuss? too much muppets?

i was watching scroll about standing rock as i drew this. meditating as i drew each little feather or line. i want so much to be able to do something. anything. to help those brave people who are fighting for all of us.

fuck a duck.
(my kids hate that expression–they always say, “what’d the duck ever do to you?”)

my heart hurts.
i am sad today . dusty came back, and the power i had built…collapsed. i crumbled. i don’t even know how he does it. or if he knows he is doing it.
so i still need to learn to protect myself.
to remain functional despite the pain of the universe.
the pain of my so-called relationship.
the pain of my tender heart….

so i drew some birds.
messengers of the gods.
oracles.
birds.

INKtober day twenty–eye just feel sad

so the thing about me is, i am an empath. i feel things deeper and more intuitively that a large percent of the population.
i have always known this about myself, but i am just figuring out how to embrace it as a good thing and to not let it destroy me.
being an empath makes it difficult for me to be around a lot of people. i can sense their anger, their sadness, their different energies.
it makes it difficult for me to work in positions where i care for others because i give too much of myself–but also helps me to be a good caregiver, if i could learn how to not cross that line.
it makes it difficult for me to be in relationships because i cannot keep my feelings separate from those of the other person. i am trying to learn boundaries and ways to protect myself…but i have a long way to go.
it makes it difficult for me to be a mom sometimes–sometimes it helps. when many small bodies need me to care all at the same time & i am prone to forgetting to listen to my own needs….

i get overwhelmed. so easily. by all the energy from all the people around me.

the more “bad” things i see or hear, the deeper it seems to go. so the internet is a treacherous place for people like me. though i want to know about wrongs being done–so i can help–if i can help…it is draining.

this election is a goddamned nightmare for me. both major party candidates are bad people. i know this on an intuitive level and on an educated level. one seems much worse than the other. i feel like a vote for that one is a vote against people like me. however, i will not vote for the lesser of two evils, that would be giving up on hope.  i wish that everyone would actually vote for better candidates (there are other candidates) and send these two to the hell they deserve….

but! i digress.

this is not a political blog.

i just wanted y’all to know why eye feel sad.

INKtober day fifteen–flower people

little known trivia about the artist here: one of my favorite things to draw is toenails.

early one today. see, i want to be out doing garden work, but i needed to make yogurt. it’s a couple hour process that keeps me in the kitchen. i actually have my work desk in the kitchen (i’m a kitchen witch) so it worked out to do the picture earlier so i don’t have to worry about it later when i am exhausted from garden work. so i didn’t do splatter & ink blot self-testing, i drew a flower i could see out my window (i love cone flowers!) and drew my mood.

i’m feeling very discouraged about my art.

but i used extra ink to prep pages for later inkings. speaking of ink. i used more color variety in this one than usual. i like it okay. i like that i have (as fidgit used to say) a big imagination, but i sometimes wish…well, often wish, i had more appeal. i mean, i like my stuff (usually) and i have some beautiful & devoted fans…. but i will look at the pages of others & see a ba-jillion “likes” whereas i am doing great to get four.

so i wonder at my lack of appeal.
where are my people?
how do i find them?

so my flower is sad & the sky is stormy…but i did put blue in the back…hope.
tomorrow is another day.
another inking.
van gogh died having only sold one painting.

maybe i can sell two.

(i totally forgot to squiggle in my clouds….)

INKtober day eight–crow doodle

i’m having a crappy day.
dreams of things that are past but not gone set my heart in a tumble for the entire day.
i doodled this on a letter to a friend.
a message in a bottle.
i was going to try to do a more “complete” picture, but i kind of liked that this one was old school on a lined notebook in a regular ink pen (actually a parker ink pen–my past preferred pen.) also it was a bit inspired by my good friend who invited me to do this challenge. she did a crow in a tree yesterday for her inktober drawing, and that stayed with me into my drawing today.

also.
i was crying & hanging up clothes this morning (usually i only cry while doing dishes) and a murder of crows flew over. i took it as a sign of comfort from the universe.
however, my day did not improve.
my heart stays broken & disillusioned.
and i never did draw another picture.

also.
i am still blown away by yesterday’s drawing. i thought for sure it was going to suck when i started it. i keep impressing myself with what i’m doing.
so i guess it’s okay that i’m doing a simple day today.

sylvia plath, lynda barry, and a sheep named tyler durden

i am going to get some pages of moses jones done. i really really am. i have been busy…a bit suicidal…depressed…and busy.

i would be lying if i said i had been working on this zine that i started by drawing the cover. although i have worked a bit on an essay about john irving and also lynda barry. but that is all. and i did this journal page thinking about doing some ink brush paintings of livestock:

journal-page-2

livestock!
so now i have ten chickens and four sheep. i have a tendency to just wing it in many areas of my life. like i never seem to get adequate directions, do not have a smart phone or gps, yet constantly set out on adventures saying, “we’ll find it.” so i got chickens before i had a coop built. i got dogs before making sure my chickens would not be harassed by them. and i got sheep before i had a fenced pasture. long story short. i have lost one rooster to an over-zealous herd dog and have poisoned one sheep by not researching very well and just thinking, “it’ll be fine.” strange that someone as neurotic as me would be so okay with winging it. but i am. another example of my oxymoronity.

we named our sheep after favorite characters from favorite movies. i got to name the ram. i really wanted to name him tyler durden…but decided on harold (from harold & maude) because i was afraid a sheep named tyler durden might be prone to fighting as well as challenging the status quo. but harold the ram got really sick after eating something (acorns? toxic lambsquarters? too much chicken food?) and was looking awful. so i re-re-named him tyler durden and “drenched” (which means to force liquids on–not to douse with a hose!) him with apple cider vinegar and began my journey towards being a holistic shepherd.

but it is my depression more than anything that has crippled my creative process. i read something recently that said that depression is “living in the past.” you know, with anxiety being “living in the future.” i can see that…but my problem is my depression is a current event. i am very unhappy–not with my homestead…but with my live-in ex-husband. aka dusty knickers. he is happy to live at my folks place, contributing only when he sees the whites of my eyes, and otherwise playing video games and being a pain in the ass. i don’t know how to get him to move on…move out…move! i have come to peace with some things–like that it is not my job to let him know he is an asshole…but i do not know how to find peace with him always here. always being dusty.

but i have not taken the sylvia plath route. mostly because of what it would do to my kids. i decided that suicide is something best done when you are young and childless. i passed my open window of opportunity in 1998 (the last time i seriously contemplated suicide but ended up marrying some guy i just met instead. marriage & suicide are on about the same level for me, i guess. ha!) now i have four kids and have to commit to being here no matter how painful it is.

yay.

so i’m putting together this zine. you can be in it if you want. right now it is in a very loose stage of development. but, you know, art–poetry–essays.
and i’m still working on all my other projects: moses jones, lizard brain, whimsy, one up on sylvia plath, space aliens & serial killers…. kids, homestead, survival, etc. you know the drill. and reading, always reading. i totally recommend david wong. but most recently i finally read lynda barry’s notes of an accidental professor. as you may or may not know, i attended uw where she teaches, but somehow i never made it into her class despite her being an early influence for my comics. self-sabotage? fear of my heroes? just plain goofy? we had a nodding acquaintance, mostly because i took my kids to her monthly drawing jams…but i never became soul sisters with her even though my inner geek dreamed of this.
it’s a regret i have.
so i’m sending her a postcard.
you know, a moses jones postcard.
(who knows, maybe she will be my best friend forever after all.) a postcard, and then i will close that chapter and open a new one.

page 3 of lizard brain

so i started this page weeks ago.
then one of my dogs tore up the page. i adopted two sisters of a cattle dog persuasion. they are only half grown and are so naughty. between their shopping on my desk and my kids’s shopping on my desk, it’s a wonder i get any pages out at all.

also,
depression.
even though i am doing a comic about the destructive voices in my head, it is still difficult to do said artwork when i am depressed. overwhelmed. generally ready to crawl in a hole and never come out.

i’m not sure what happens next. maybe i will get some moses jones done. i have been hankering to work on that comic for awhile.
also! i started playing with a story i started when my niece was like 4. that niece has now graduated from college. so maybe i should finish my story, at least.
i wrote it as a screenplay.
i am adapting it to be prose…with pictures. not a graphic novel. just, you know, an illustrated story.
strangely, the dynamics of the two main characters (written, like i said, 20 years ago?) are reflective of the dynamics between my ex & i. you know, dusty. the male lead even looks like him. i wrote it before i started doing more autobiographical fiction. he came out of my imagination. fuck, maybe i predicted him…or worse, maybe i wrote him into existence. yikes.

speaking of the topic of autobiographical fiction. i just finished reading john irving’s latest novel, the avenue of miracles. i love love love john irving. this novel, not so much. parts of it were amazing. other parts were half-hearted. but! he often discusses memoir fiction vs. fiction from the imagination. while reading it, i started writing an essay. i think i will eventually finish that essay that is not quite memoir…not quite pure imagination…but all me and how i feel while reading a john irving novel.

i think i had another point to make or story to share, but i had to stop typing to have a fight with my eight year old who seems to believe i am not allowed to live a life other than as his devoted and single-minded mother.

poop.