A Weird One

Digital. Couple days ago.

People are missing what once was there. Or (and?), people are raging for what was promised but never granted. Which one am I? I am the one missing what once was. But what is it that I missed? I think: it must be the togetherness, of us meaning all of us or at least most of us. When there were things to be shared and laughed about together. People’s lives going in different directions even then, but the paths were diverging so subtly for a while that futures were imagined being…together.

So, I’m making quarantine cards in my head, and ideas for projects. A sketch book of a style I used to love as a kid. A style that reminds me of the luscious, jewish black pen of Shel Silverstein. Shel Silverstein, my love, the man I wanted to be one of the friendly monsters in my life. (I should post of photo of him here, really, this is my future library of Self in a way. I might like to remember what he looked like when I am surfing this page 10 years from now).

I’m making something new out of something old. That is what this life of mine, rich with emotion, has come to. A strange patchwork quilt of selves is being reidentified into a new, middle-aged child-artist witch-woman that I am. I feel like a scarily ugly-beautiful, rather stupid, magic-sharting fingerpainter of a woman.

Goal: to only eat seeds, nuts, berries and red apples for a few days and see how it feels. I will never do this. I’ve changed my mind.

I’m planning the creation of things to be made available for selling on Etsy. I have a great many reasons for doing this, and it is actually important to try. I am scared. Scared enough to want to run from it, immediately, even the idea of it makes me feel overpowerered by. Over-ruled am I. I’m an artist. We don’t just make things, we’re a kind of people. You can make nothing and still be an artist. They’re a type. Of person. There are lots or types of people. What I need is a real job. Ugh.

The dark side of the meme, the one that reflects Real Life. I need to put my landscapes together and integrate. I need to do more. I need to strengthen and then I need to maintain. I’m doing a really, really great job, to be sure.

STORY TIME

Columbian Witches. I found this as a comment, and I am so sad to say that I was sidetracked while copying and pasting this whole section. Credit goes to someone, for sure, that isn’t me. It realllllly made me smile. It is so wonderful and rich and innocent. It is so sweetly inside of existence, this thing. Realize how many things we treasure that are not at all material. They are ideas and loves and places, and they imprint on our hearts and minds. They shape our reality. They make us believe we are part of a killer culture – a killer couture, really. Anyhow…this was not at all meant in jest:

“I want to discuss witches. And I don’t mean girls who make potions on certain moon phases. I mean women who made a deal with the “devil” in order to become one.

In Colombia, it’s normal to hear stories about entities who come out at night and ambush men, scare animals and do things such as make really tight braids in young women’s hair. Witches are said to destroy marriages, make people sick, kill cattle, steal things and other handful of things Old people say in a house where there are men lacking women attention, a witch can come to give a hand, that’s why many people say if you are a man don’t sweep at night, because that means you need a woman in your house. The reason people think that way is because witches exist since a long time ago and come from the country side, making the whole culture around it extremely sexist and outdated.

It’s said that a witch is not a woman’s human form. As she sleeps, a demon custodies her body and her spirit moves around. That’s why you can’t kill a witch. Although, you can hurt them. But here’s the interesting thing, if you stab or cut a witch it has to be an odd number of times, because the first time it hurts them, and the second time it heals them. That’s why you have to hit them 1, 3, 5 or more times, so it remains injured. Usually, witches are women you know, so when you hurt a witch in her leg, you will later see a neighbour limping. Witches will not recover from their injuries unless the person who gave them it hits them again. They usually make an agreement with whoever hurt them, to not bother them ever again, in exchange of them gaining their health again; and a witch can’t break their promises.

How do you catch a witch inside your house? You may ask. Well, you have to keep her entertained until you wake up to see her, because she won’t enter your home unless everyone is asleep. Witches like numbers, so leaving a huge amount of spilled salt will make her count it, and you may find her in the morning. Also leaving a path of needles may work too, she will try and thread all of them and it could take her all night.

I don’t know if they are real. I’ve heard many relatives and family friends saying they encountered them in the past, but you never know. What do you think?”

I think I love you for that, stranger. And I don’t mean girls who make potions on certain moon phases.

Yes, this had a lot that I did like about it. I’m on the hunt for something new. A new sound to explore.

You know who I love? Lo Moon.

I’m going to be rich.

Author: Jen Crow

©Jen Crow. Be sure to ask for permission to use my artwork or photos. I warmly welcome comments and questions.

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