And the end of the series. I've been working on it for so long, it feels strange to finally be clearing this project out and sending it out into the world. I've still got an insane backlog, but this is one less.
It’s a strange feeling. Good. But strange.
Prints can be bought HERE
Use code ZionPancake0216 at checkout and get 20% off.
Prints are available HERE
* * *
Well, woke up feeling angry this morning and ruminating about a person I didn’t need to be renting brain space too, which is just ridiculous, because who fucking cares? It’s a situation where the person in question is so fucked up, nothing I could do or say will ever punish them as much as their own actions.
So why am I fucking renting them space in my brain?
How does this pay my fucking rent?
Didn’t know what was going on with my brain chem this morning, but it was not productive or helpful or healing. Leave people to their own hell as Pinhead would say. I’ve got my own.
I woke up angry.
What the hell?
And out of nowhere, an old friend asked me what it would take for me to shoot my own deck of Tarot cards.
I hear you, Goddess. I don’t know what is going on, but I hear you.
I get it. Will keep breathing.
And apparently start taking notes for a tarot deck and a series of seven highly inflammatory nude Sins.
When in doubt, make moar fucking art.
What it says on the tin. Oberon has made her offer. Will our Queen take it?
* * *
Was really in the hole last night. Numb. Insomnia.
I eventually managed to get to sleep, but it took work and hugging a pillow to death.
I don’t know where the fucking rent is coming after this next paycheck. I’m beginning to think that I’m not going to be able to go to the half marathon at this rate because I don’t know that we’ll be able to afford it. Which makes me furious.
So we’re struggling. Husband’s in the hole too and I can’t send him to get therapy and I’m just looking around at all the people I know who fucking need medication or at least talk therapy and how none of them are getting help because they can’t fucking afford to get it.
When did the United States turn into a third world country? And can we please get it back?
If I could do anything today, it would be leave. I would get in the car, drive to the nearest five-star hotel, and sleep for a week. In between, eating room service. I’d pay for everyone to go see a fucking shrink. I’d buy a fucking house and a studio. And I would buy a day bed with all the most beautiful bedding, climb in it, and not get out for another week. While looking at beautiful things in my studio.
I fucking hate this.
And that’s enough of that. Have a pretty picture. When in doubt, make moar art.
And this is what we call gigantic sparkler for the win, with the wire digitally removed. I love how it came out.
You can buy Puck & Wisp HERE.
* * *
And Christmas is officially over.
My back is hurting. I don’t know what I did, other than run, which is probably all I needed to do. Either way. Ow.
Writing brain appears to be growing even more too. I’m writing in tiny, half page pushes, but it’s coming easier than it was. I am not all here though.
I’m finding it hard to not go against my nothing new rule for the year. I keep looking at yarn and knitting needles. I don’t need yarn and I don’t need another project, but suddenly I desperately want to knit for no damn reason that I can think of. It’s pretty cracked out. That being said, I do have skeins of yarn that I need to get out of my damn life. So I’ll do stitch squares and watch YouTube videos for fun, but this is not something that I’m starting for shit. I have other work to do.
Training appointment today. Not looking forward to it, but whatever. I’ll feel better afterwards.
I am in a weird fucking headspace and I do not even know what it is. I feel…antsy? Unsettled? Very strange. I slept okay too. It’s not like I had a bad night. The Ant had a sleepless night too. Must be something in the air.
My plan is to dance today. Belly dance drills and some freestyle movement.
In a perfect world, I’d be getting on a plane for Santorini or Tuscany today.
I guess that’s all I’ve got.
How’s your world?
Yeah, the Page seems dubious about Oberon’s offering…
You can buy Quick Bright Things HERE
* * *
This week is slammed with things from gills to tail and I am making an effort to not get overwhelmed and that means, of all things, slowing down.
It’s a hard thing for me. Slowing down. But it’s slow down and breathe or watch my neurochem tank. It’s literally an act of self-preservation, an effort to continue my survival. I don’t like that it’s that severe, but it is.
I’m still not used to it.
In the meantime, I wrote a paragraph on the novel and am listening to music to help keep the brain balanced.
“Small moves, Ellie.”
…she is fierce!
The best part of working with my daughters at their younger ages is that their reactions and responses are completely unscripted. I know seasoned actors who dream of having moments in a scene as authentic as my girls do when they are just playing and I push the button. This was one of those moments.
Yeah. Better than a DNA test. That’s my kid, everyone.
She may be tiny, but she will mess you up.
I love that girl. I love both of them beyond reason. This is just a tiny sliver of a reason why.
Look at that finger.
You can buy Though She Be Little HERE
The Mad Model in all her glory.
There’s a whole story in her eyes in this one…
* * *
I am not immune to the news.
I have had enough of one particular thing I keep seeing pop up over and over in my feeds. The idea that there is nothing we can do, we just need to fucking give up, civilization is over…
And *I’m* the one whose got clinical depression and says fuck that noise.
I didn’t come here to give up. If you’re not making your corner of the world a better place, you’re doing has been worthless. Call it Hunt’s Corollary to Schrodinger’s Law.
As Jenny Sparks said: Screw you. I want a better world.
So if you are one of those cowards saying that it’s too late, steer clear of me. This is your first and last heads up that the safeties are off. If you’re not actively doing something to help make the world a better place, you are part of the problem. And I have no patience or tolerance for you now.
So, when the first idea for the fevre dream hit me, it was rather a no brainer to ask the Amazing A to be my Puck. For one, how many circus arts red-dreaded flying models do *you* know?
Then the challenge became one of logistics and design. Getting her rig into my backyard where it mightily befuddled the neighbors for many months and became impromptu swing set for my daughters. Making a costume that kept to both my theme and era, *but* could be flown in without impediment. Not as easy as it sounds, though the eventual solution was elegant and simple.
And then to put her into it and get that first shot in the setting sun where it all came together?
I kinda like this one.
Heh. What backyard? What rig? I asked real fae to pose for me.
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