okay–so i’m of irish descent….
(excuses! just the facts,ma’am!)
and though i am aware of most of the rules & laws & such of our society…i don’t understand them. like, if a person comes across the love her life making out with a brain-damaged pothead in broad daylight just a block from her house…shouldn’t one kick to the knee be allowed? granted, as the man cop alluded to, i should have kicked dusty as well…. but i kicked a girl. i lost my heart. and i broke my elbow all in the span of a few blurry rage-filled moments.
and now my pages aren’t done yet.
maybe i can work more tonight. or maybe i will take one or two of the tylenols with codeine that the kind & handsome dr. joe gave me for my elbow.
one thing is for damn sure. i need to stop finding new material to work with. enough already. keep the drama to the pages, mama.
i have been doodling and could post a picture accordingly, but i don’t feel like walking downstairs & finding my camera to take a picture of my artwork. plus, my canon digital camera is acting as if it does not have much longer to live. if i have any benefactors out there…hint. hint. too many kids dropping said camera after massaging it with sticky fingers, i suppose.
but i am doodling. exercising my pens, as it were, who are much happier now that i have started shaking them loose.
i am still–still still still–between homes. we had to move out of the abandoned house we were squatting in. we went back to dusty’s sister’s house, but after a fight with dusty, i packed up the minions and went to my brother’s house in my gloriously flat home state of illiniois. at least my brother keeps his fridge stocked with beer.
why did dusty & i fight? spoilers! the other woman factor…which will be addressed in comic form eventually. the other fucking woman. as if moses jones is not enough woman for any man?? phih-shaw!
so i drove off…as i will…moving my babies for the fourth time this summer. but my brother’s house, as i said, has more beer…and has fewer (none) pitbulls. there is one cranky golden lab mix however. a lot more room! a trampoline even! iggy should be in seventh heaven, but iggy is iggy and like his dusty daddy, he is hard to please.
forgive me, i babble a bit. must be the well-stocked beer fridge.
in one week…one week! if dusty & i work out our differences…in one week, we will be sleeping in our own beds and irritating our own neighbors. so exciting. in one week, i will have a space of my own once more.
and the art will flow!
until then, don’t forget me. (i have not forgotten you.)