Hello//Goodbye

After much thought and reflection this past month, I have decided that it’s time for a change.

2026 has been full of seasonal shifts for me personally, professionally, and spiritually. It’s only natural that my creativity follows suit.

I have been leading this meetup group called Riot Squirrel for over a year now. It started as a single event called “Run and HYDE” and it was a music listening/running event hosted at Mt. Tabor Park, which was essentially my backyard at the time. We chose three different local artists who had just released music, put them all in a playlist, ran around together, then met up to chat and hang out afterwards. I was working on a big running objective, so selfishly, it was a way to kill two birds with one stone.

This was so fun for me, and I wanted to keep finding ways to connect people in person with art as the vehicle. I reflected on what COVID had done to the local arts scene, community spaces, and our social courage. I was also deeply frustrated by the election results in 2024 and noticed a lot of artists finding it challenging to promote themselves in the midst of war, injustice, famine, and political upheaval. This time was also changing the art world with the influx of AI, copywriting rules, streaming service owners investing in war, and more.

I felt the heaviness around us and wanted to recognize it, while not getting discouraged. I believe that art is a universal language that can bring people together in times of trouble, sadness, and grief. I wanted to create a space where artists could hold BOTH truths. They could recognize the chaos AND still create because creation is one of the best forms of protest. Keeping silent and isolated would only make things worse, and I was tired of sitting around and doing nothing but complaining.

SO… I invited everyone I knew that created ANYTHING to gather in Mt. Tabor again. We sat on a small blanket in the sun, made cards with our names, and chose a color to let the rest of the group know how we were feeling and how we wanted to engage. After introductions, I led the group in a guided conversation so people wouldn’t feel pressured to have to come up with small talk. Eventually, the group wanted ways to connect between meetings, so we started a Signal chat and I started this Substack.

The meetup has evolved and fluctuated over time in size, spaces, and artistic mediums represented. Being able to start conversations, share experiences, resources, and stories with all of you has been such a privilege.

All that to say, last night was the last evening of its kind. Everything beautiful must die. BUT, as I learned in a real world experience a few years ago when working on a vegetable farm, you have to clear out the greenhouse to make room for next year’s harvest.

If Riot Squirrel were a tomato plant, it would have produced so many beautiful red, yellow, and orange orbs of deliciousness. I’m grateful for all the fruit AND it’s time to clear it out and start fresh.

THE NEW WAY FORWARD

I will continue to use the name Riot Squirrel and everyone who has attended meetings will still be part of a thriving community. That said, we are going to be moving away from monthly meetings and will shift to a more fluid space where people can come and go as they please on their own schedule. The home base will still be at Rose City Guitar Company and I will update you all on this more as things evolve.

Personally, I am in a phase of healing, growth, reflection, and rest and I am needing to protect my energy and the monthly meeting has been a conflict to the immediate goals I have. I have set aside time this month to get serious about my personal, professional, and spiritual goals. I know Riot Squirrel fits into the larger picture, but I’m taking a step back so I can come back at the end of May with a clearer, brighter, and more focused vision that benefits everyone.

This page will probably stay up for a bit, but I have already created a new only called Riot Squirrel. Once my new chapter begins, it’ll be here and once the creative group starts up again, it’ll be there.

Big shout out to everyone who’s helped me get more focused and feel so supported along the way <3

-Jacquie

I’ve been thinking about “MOTHER” lately. Why are we often so cruel to her? Why do we take everything she has to offer and still feel as though it isn't enough? Why do we beg for more with full bellies?

I am very grateful for my regular degular job, especially as spring approaches and I get to spend more time with my friends. My friends being the trees, the river, the black-tailed deer, the Canada geese, and the rough-skinned newts that inhabit the southwest corner of Mount Hood National Forest. I take students out to a restricted part of unincorporated Sandy, Oregon, to teach them that their drinking water is not only safe but one of the greatest gifts that Mother has to offer. Mother has taken good care of this land, and in return, we have valued her gifts and resources, which is not something that happens often in our individualistic, capitalistic, and consumerist society.

Another interesting part of my job is that I work with students from many different schools. Yesterday, I went to a school that I had never visited before. I was taken aback when I arrived at the campus. Later, I realized why my skin felt itchy and my gut felt uneasy while I was there. Once I got home, I looked up the tuition and found that each family sending a child to that school could have paid for a 2026 Subaru Outback in cash by the end of the school year.

Today, we spent time with a school that had to combine its two classrooms to save funds for a field trip. They rarely get to go off-campus, and most of the students rely on the school to provide their breakfast and lunch. The disparity and inequity I see between these two schools, especially so close together, is shocking.

I plan to continue the conversation about MOTHER in tonight’s meeting. How do we value our gifts, where does gratitude sit within us, and how can the MOTHER in ALL OF US nurture our creativity and our community?

Please join us tonight at Rose City Guitar Co. We will have drinks and snacks avilable for purchase. All proceeds will go toward the local business that has so graciously allows us to be hosted in their space. See you at 8:30pm!

I think I also forgot to mention that we will be scheduling our first “Show and Tell” meetup where you can bring a piece of your work and let the group know what you’ve been up to and how we can support you. I look forward to seeing you all soon.

Jacquie

February is a weird month for my heart.

Ten years ago, I was settling into married life. I was a wee lad —21 years of age and a month into “forever”.

Two years ago, I started writing in a journal every single day. If it weren’t for this, I wouldn’t actively remember half the shit that happens to me on a day-to-day basis. The other half, however, is held tightly between the muscle fibers of my neck and the furrow of my brow. The Body Keeps the Score, or whatever.

What I do remember from the last decade is how quickly I gave up on my dreams. That fact is held in both body and brain. I’m not sure if my crushing desire to become a grown-up from such a young age is simply from the cliche plight of being a firstborn, or if it’s a personality flaw. Nature or nurture? Haven’t we evolved enough to know it’s always both—both, and…

Three years ago, I packed all my belongings and mementos from the last seven years into boxes and cried. I didn’t know it at the time, but crying around baggage is something I would do more times than fingers I have up until three months ago. I had just gotten an email from my kind landlord (Why are they lords? That’s so weird and archaic. This guy is an exception to the rule, but I think this position should be rebranded to “Landbastard”, “Bloodsucker”, or “Asshole”. Wouldn’t it be funny to say “My asshole sent me an eviction notice”?) Anyway—the email… Mr. John let me know that he would make an exception considering my circumstance. His allowance gave me the freedom I had been asking for since November.

November has also historically been a heart crusher. It would have been November of 2022. I came home from attending a wedding in a state I lived in for almost two years. That two years was the beginning of the end of my marriage. It was during that time that I learned some very important lessons. These lessons are:

1. People change. This can be the greatest gift and the greatest grief.

2. Making time to get to know yourself isn’t selfish—its essential and affects every other decision you make in life.

3. Sometimes the most loving thing you can do, is leave. The end of a relationship isn’t always failure. More often than not, its growth (Especially for women. I’m not sure how true that is, but it feels really true and I have good reasons and sources. I’m willing to fight about it.)

These lessons were large, horse pills that were devastating to swallow, even with the sweet chaser of freedom. The unraveling of long term relationships is always hard to explain and maybe that part of my story is for another time, or never. All you need to know for now is that I felt more alone than I ever had before and that’s saying something becuase most of my life, I was (maybe still am) a very angsty, private person. My journals and songwriting and prayers were the only places I could be honest. One could argue that all of those spaces are different versions of “self” and even then, she lied A LOT—mostly without knowing it.

Not only did I feel alone, but I felt a deep sense of grief. Unexplainable grief. Sometimes, saying a word so often causes it to lose it’s meaning and I have to remind myself of the true definition. A quick google search reminds me that grief is not a silly little thorn in my side. It is “the natural, multi-faceted response to loss, encompassing emotional, physical, and behavioral distress, most commonly associated with the death of a loved one but also triggered by divorce, job loss, or life changes.” I had experienced all of these things. Twice, thrice, and frice over. Maybe this could explain why an empty stomach felt so familiar.

I believe this greif came from many places but the place I want to reflect on today is the grief of dead dreams. As a young, 21 year old I had dreamed of many different lives. I thought my maturity was showing when I resigned myself to only choosing one. Parts of me wanted to be married, to be a mother, to be a teacher, to be blonde, to love wearing dresses, to love Jesus and her godly husband. Other parts of me wanted to make friends with “the world”. This other part of me dreamt of playing music on big stages, writing songs that allowed me to express the secrets of my mind, and meeting excentric new people along the way that could expand my horizons. I had also dreamt of living alone in a downtown apartment or moving to a foriegn country to work on a farm, to travel to New York City ALONE.

Ten years ago, I killed those dreams and I had no idea how sad it was to casually choke the life out of something I wanted.

This is only part one of this story…….. for now, I leave you with two questions:

1. What dreams have been choked out by time and second hand lies?

2. Do you believe that it is never too late?

Happy Heart Day,

-Jacquie

I got lazy and tired of writing BUT there’s also a bit more to it. Listen and lets chat about why the group started last year and thoughts on how to move forward together with other like minded, community centered individuals.

Much love, stay punk

-Jacquie

G R E E T I N G S to all you scrappy little squirrels!

I’m SO sorry I didn’t write anything for the month of November (I’ll explain why later). But…. I’m here now, and I want to cordially invite you to the last meetup of the year TONIGHT at 6pm.

This will be our first ever virtual meetup. This makes me a little sad, becuase my whole goal in starting this group was to have genuine and real face time with other creative humans in a tangible way—so we can feel the energy in a room and riot together in whatever way felt necessary. That said, I appreciate the ability to be flexible (thanks, technology *eye roll*), and I hope this will make things easier on everyone, since I know the holiday season is always chaotic.

Here is the link to join us: https://calendar.app.google/wygfNRU9NrpqiaKr6

Anyone and everyone is welcome. The plan today is to start with a grounding exercise, set some personal and artistic goals for 2026, and then have a brief discussion on the topic of solitude, loneliness, and “free time”.

Ciao Bellas!

Jacquie

I’m so excited to kick off another Riot Squirrel meetup and step into spooky October together. It feels like our little creative community is starting to find its rhythm — and this next gathering is all about grounding, connecting, and building on that momentum.

We’ll start with a short grounding activity, so please bring a notebook and something to write with. It’ll be a chance to slow down, get centered, and reconnect with why we’re here. We will use this time to make space for art, collaboration, and honest expression in a world that constantly tries to rush or distract us.

After that, we’ll be talking about what’s ahead for Riot Squirrel:

• New classes and workshops led by folks in our community. (If you’ve ever wanted to teach, host, or collaborate — this is your moment to jump in!)

• A monthly community calendar featuring local creative events, shows, and opportunities to get involved. The first one drops next month and I need everyone’s help!

• More ways to stay connected between meetups — so Riot Squirrel isn’t just a date on the calendar, but an ongoing network of support and inspiration.

Bring your ideas, your curiosity, your half-formed plans — this space works because of what you bring to it.

Can’t wait to see everyone soon. I hope you make it through this cold rainy Sunday and the scaries don’t get you down too bad.

In community,
Jacquie

I just got back from a long trip and I’m feeling super ready to kick off this Fall season with big goals for our little community.

WHAT TO EXPECT & HOW TO PREPARE:

We’ve been talking about how to get our art into more spaces, and we came away with two exciting ideas (yay!). We’ll dig into those and start mapping out how to make them real over the coming months.

We’ll also finally talk about getting the record club off the ground, plus other ways to keep everyone connected in between meetups.

And of course, we’ll open the floor to topics you are excited about—things you’d like to share, discuss, or write about with the community.

Please feel free to bring a friend—whether they’re already part of the artistic world or just curious and looking for ways to bring more expression into their daily life.

A lot of shit is going down in the world right now, and it’s easy to feel isolated. My hope with this community is to keep us connected. To remind each other that even when it feels like it’s all falling apart, we can get through it together. And maybe it’ll inspire us to create something that can make someone else feel a little less alone.

Thoughts on: Finding Your Artistic Voice inspired by A Swim in a Pond in the Rain

As creatives we are often asked "what is your style? What is your sound?” Earlier in my artistic journey that was a scary question to answer because we are constantly evolving, and the answer can differ year to year. That being said, ultimately I believe every artist has their own finger prints, be it literal or metaphorical, on their art. The simple fact that you created it, makes it inherently different. If we lean into that, the thing that is most authentic, we begin to find ourselves as artists. Imitation is a useful tool to gain skills and learn what you enjoy, but it can sometimes be a disservice to a young artist who is trying to find their voice.

Imitation is in some ways a comparison, and we can get lost or discouraged that our product doesn't look like our source material.

In A Swim in A Pond in the Rain, George Saunders analyzes Russian short stories in-between essays about craft and storytelling. When writing about discovering his personal style, he states " When I finished the story, I could see that it was the best thing I'd ever written. There was some essential 'me-ness' in it— for better or worse, no one else could have written it" (108).

In comparison to his style before, which was heavily influenced by Hemingway, this new voice was a "moment of combined triumph and disappointment" (108). He was not Hemingway and that was in some ways a disappointment, but there was a new easiness to this "work of art we have to admit we weren't in control of as we made it and of which we're not entirely sure we approve. It is less, less than we wanted it to be, and yet it is more too—it's small and a bit pathetic, judged against the work of the great masters, but there it is, all ours." (109). I have found that another version of this in my own journey, which is giving yourself the freedom to create what excites you as a tool to find your voice. I have found myself experimenting with different genres and styles in my art as I continue to find what my elusive "voice" is. Stretching yourself creatively can land you in places you never would have imagined yourself in, and in each adventure you will learn something new about yourself. In every bad song, shitty poem, boring drawing, you are one step closer to your own creative "hill" with your name on it.

Like many at Riot Squirrel mentioned in our last guided discussion, the fun should be in the creation of the art and not just the dissemination of it. That is how you create an artistic practice. In my personal experience, that is also how you learn to create even without a muse. The routine or practice of making art is integral to finding your voice, because if you don't try how will you ever find what works?

Now, because this group is rooted in discussion, I implore you: do you feel like you have found your voice? If so, how did you get there? Do you agree with Saunders' take on finding your voice? Why or why not?

By: Shanea

Please check out their music on Bandcamp or see them live on September 28th at Atlantis Lounge in Portland, Oregon.

Our next Riot Squirrel meetup will be on September 16th in the grassy area in front of the Mt. Tabor Community Garden on 60th at 7pm. See you there.

If you missed it, we hope to see you next time! August 12th, 7pm at the field in front of the community garden on 60th. Okay, time to review….

The energy of this meetup?

Simple but radical:
We are taking back the Portland art scene.

Most of us at the meetup were musicians, so the conversation naturally turned to how broken the current system is. Spotify, TikTok, Instagram… they demand nonstop content and give us almost nothing in return. Everything’s “free,” but the real cost is our labor, our ownership, our joy.

So we asked: what if we just… stopped? What if we pulled our work from exploitative platforms and built something of our own, right here in Portland?

That said, this isn’t just about music, it’s a template for all mediums. A template for any creative who’s tired of playing by rules that weren’t made for us. What is Portland other than a culture that’s punk, weird, anti-capitalist, and deeply rooted in community?

Let’s bring back the Portland that was known for its grit and DIY spirit. Walkmans. Tape swaps. Zines. Word of mouth. We don’t need another rich tech guy to make a “better” platform.

We need each other.

This is the start of something real. Let’s keep it going! Tell your friends, coworkers, and acquaintances. Change is happening.

Do you believe:

• Art is activism.

• Local change is world change.

• A small, connected, anti-capitalist creative community is more powerful than a thousand passive followers (watch A Bugs Life, its surprisingly relevant)

• Punk isn’t a genre—it’s a way of working: DIY, defiant, and deeply human.

We want this group to be more than a meetup. We want it to be a movement.
A place where we don’t gatekeep, but share tools. Where we don’t sell out, but build alternatives.
Where we talk honestly about what’s hard and dream wildly about what’s possible.

Word of mouth is stronger than the algorithm.
Ownership matters.
We can build a new scene on our own terms.

So now what?

Let’s keep the momentum going.
Drop ideas in the comments for how we can grow this in Portland. How we can share music, skills, space, and stories outside the system. Come to the next meetup and tell others about it.
Let’s break the rules together. Let’s create a future that doesn’t exploit us.

We’ve got righteous anger and a real chance.
Let’s make it count.

In solidarity and subversion,
—Jacqueline + The Riot Squirrel Collective

The first two meetups have left me buzzing (or should I say scurrying) in the best way. THANK YOU sm to everyone who showed up, shared openly, and helped cultivate the kind of community that warms my cold heart. If you’re new, I wanted to take a moment to reflect on what we covered and share what’s coming next.

Addionally, I’ve been thinking about how we can create space for community members who can’t attend a physical meeting. I’ve wondered how to keep us all connected in between meetups and I have a new idea to share at the end of this writeup! Before we look ahead, let’s check in and review…

May: Grounding Exercise and Artistic “Rules”

We began with a 5 minute grounding exercise in the grass at Mt. Tabor. No talking, no doing, just stillness. Afterwards, we took another 5 minutes to reflect and take notes on what we noticed with all five senses. What is art, if not the act of noticing?

I feel like we’re constantly distracted by phones, media, advertisements, responsibilities, bad news, and anxious thoughts. This exercise proved to be very unsettling and challenging in the beginning but ultimately reminded us that creative motivation often begins with presence. We discussed the idea of artistic and creative “rules” and how some of them deepen our connection to ourselves and each other, while others push us toward conformity or algorithmic approval. We explored the importance of understanding systems like music theory not to be boxed in, but to break out on purpose, with intention, and with style.

June: Artist Crop Rotation

Our central theme last month was the idea of artistic crop rotation. A metaphor borrowed from sustainable farming that reminds us how important it is to care for our creative soil. When I lived and worked on a CSA farm in Sweden in 2023, I learned that rotating crops wasn’t optional. If we planted the same thing season after season, the soil would become depleted, the harvest weaker, the ground tired. But when you rotate crops, you provide new life and give the land variety, rest, and different nutrients.

The same applies to our creative selves. We can’t expect to constantly produce in the same way, with the same output, and not eventually burn out or lose connection to what we love (IDK about you but it feels like a lot of us have been experiencing severe burnout lately).

So last month, we talked about what it means to explore other modes of expression and creative forms that aren’t necessarily our primary identity as artists.

For me, that looked like picking up a travel watercolor set and bringing my 35mm film camera with me on walks or to events. No pressure, no project, JUST PLAY. Giving myself that space allowed me to return to music, my main form of expression, with fresh energy and zero expectations. And when I did, I wrote an entire song in 30 minutes!

The crops had been rotated and the soil was ready!

This small practice reminded me that being an artist doesn’t always mean making a thing. Sometimes it just means being in the world differently. Staying open. Letting inspiration come in from unfamiliar directions. If you haven’t tried this yet, I would highly encourage you to give it a shot.

***PRO Tip***: Try riding the bus for your next commute. I’ve been doing it more lately, and it’s quietly become a well of inspiration. There’s something tender about sitting still among strangers. Watching lives unfold in passing glances, snippets of conversation, and quiet gestures. I’m not battling traffic or the heat (shoutout to the AC), and instead, I’m reminded that we’re all moving through something—side by side, yet on our own timelines. It slows me down, opens me up, and makes room for meaningful, advanced empathy (which is much appreciated in this turmultuous political climate).

Looking Ahead: Preparing for Our Next Meetup

For those planning to join us again:
Bring a small creative artifact or story from the past month that isn’t in your main medium. It could be a sketch, a playlist, a photograph, a journal entry. Anything that nourished you in a different way. We’ll take time to debrief and share how this practice of “rotation” shifted our energy, mindset, or process.

We’ll also be weaving in conversations around:

• Community building & artist support : How do we show up for one another and create space that feels sustaining, not extractive?

• Grassroots organizing & creative resistance : What does it mean to foster an artist-led scene that values care, collaboration, and autonomy over clout or commodification?

• Zine-making as storytelling and tool-sharing : We’ll start brainstorming ideas for our first collective zine, with contributions from meetup participants that explore these themes and showcase different forms of creative expression. I will also do a brief demonstration on how to make your own one page zine.

This is about growing something together—not just our own work, but a more connected, intentional local arts ecosystem.

Staying Connected Between Meetings: Riot Record Club

This is something I’ve been dreaming up for a while now….. A community-driven record club hosted right here on Substack, where we listen deeply, discover new music together, and explore how full albums have shaped who we are as artists and humans.

This space is open to all creatives. I come from the music world, so a lot of my ideas live there but I like to believe that most of us appreciate and connect with music regardless of whether we write or perform it. I believe this because music is everywhere: in elevators, at the climax of a film, or (here comes my recovering evangelical moment) when the pastor called the keys player up to emotionally manipulate the altar call. Music is a universal language that moves us, heals us, and reminds us who we are. So let's treat it with that kind of respect.

How It Works:

Each month, we’ll feature three full albums that have been meaningful in someone's creative journey. People will choose albums that shaped their identity, cracked something open, or carried them through a season of life. These will be selected by members of our community (yes, you), and they’ll be announced here on Substack at the start of each month.

From there, you can take your time listening to one or all throughout the month. Maybe it will be a revisitation of an old favorite or a discovery of something completely new. We’ll keep an open comment thread on each post where you’re invited to share:

• How the album hit you

• Memories it brought up

• How it influenced your own creative process

• What’s changed for you since you first heard it

• Or, maybe how you’re experiencing it for the first time, right now

This isn’t about being “right” or musically technical. It’s about relationship to the music, to ourselves, to each other.

I want this to be a landing place for anyone seeking conversation, community, and creative inspiration. A place to reflect not only on the music that shaped us, but how we've evolved since, and how we continue to create meaning. I also LOVE the idea that a bunch of us throughout the city might be vibing out on the same jams, keeping us in synch at different points in space and time (how cool!)

And yes, part of this is about slowing down. In a world obsessed with skipping tracks and viral snippets, I’m inviting us to sit with full albums again. With intention. With care. Like we talked about in our May meetup: if the rules don’t serve us, we get to break them. Listening can be an act of rebellion, of restoration, of remembering.

I can’t wait to get this going next week and hear what albums have carried you.

One Last Thought

Nature isn’t linear. Creativity isn’t either. It moves in cycles. Dormancy, bloom, harvest, rest. Let’s keep honoring that rhythm together, in how we make art, how we gather, and how we care for each other.

WOOOOOF I know that was a lot, but if you’ve made it this far, THANK YOU again.

Let’s grow this together.

With love,
Jacquie <3

Once a month, in between green grass and blue skies,
we gather.
Not to impress.
Not to hustle.
But to listen, reclaim, make, and breathe.

We believe creativity isn't a commodity.
It's a messy, sacred, unruly thing.
And it needs space.
It needs slowness.
It needs witnesses.

🔥 What Is Riot Squirrel?

We’re a collective of artists, writers, wanderers, thinkers,
and the otherwise uncategorized.

Inspired loosely by riot grrrl culture—but more inclusive—
we’ve taken to calling this gathering:

Riot Squirrel
a monthly creative revolt for those who won’t sit still

Why the squirrel?
Because it’s clever. Scrappy.
Because it hides its treasures.
Because it never asks for permission.
Because it makes its own rules in the trees.

🌱 What We Believe

This is not a brand-building workshop.
This is a radical pause and a quiet protest.

We hold space for:

• 🧷 DIY over default

• 🔥 Trade or gift over capitalism

• 🌀 Curiosity over perfection

• 🛠 Anti-authority with radical care

• 🌿 Reinvention over repetition

You don’t need to sell your art to be an artist.
You don’t need a portfolio to belong.
You just need to show up—honestly.

🧭 How We Meet

Our sessions flow loosely like this:

1. Arrival + Grounding
(breathe, stretch, come into the space)

2. Prompted Reflection
(themes like rules, failure, play, impostor feelings)

3. Open Circle
(speak, listen, hold space without fixing)

4. Making Time
(bring a project—or don’t; you can just journal or be)

5. Closing Ritual
(short reflection or group breath)

No pressure to share.
No need to explain yourself.
Listening is participation.

💌 Next Meetup

📅 Date: July 21st
🕒 Time: 7pm
📍 Location: Mt. Tabor Community Garden
🎒 Bring: notebook, pen, project-in-progress, something to trade (if you want)

RSVP or contact: jacquelinehydeband@gmail.com
Follow us: @jacquelinehyde.band

📓 Coming Soon: The Zine

We’re building a small, loud, lovingly handmade zine with:

• Our collective manifesto

• Quotes from past gatherings

• Space to write, sketch, scribble

• Doodles, rituals, and resistance

Want to receive one (or trade for one)?
Hit reply or drop your info [here].
It’ll be DIY, black-and-white, and ready to photocopy or pass around.

🖤 Voices from the Circle

“I didn’t know how much I needed to sit with other artists and not perform for them.”

“This space feels like compost. Things are breaking down and becoming fertile again.”

“I came with nothing and left with something I didn’t know I had.”

🌰 Squirrel Bits

What else is in the works:

• 🧷 Zine drop (printable + tradeable)

• 🎨 Stickers + button designs

• 📌 Analog flyers for your local coffee shop, pole, or friend’s bathroom mirror

• 🧵 Small-run patches for your jacket or sketchbook

Have a design idea or want to collaborate on visuals? Reach out—we trade art, snacks, plants, time, stories.

🕳 Follow the Squirrel

Leave your door cracked open.
Let the squirrels in.
Let the world make less sense and more feeling.

We’ll meet you at the edge of the woods.

✧
riot squirrel
art for those who won’t sit still

Martha Mae lay on the kitchen floor, dressed in her Sunday best, a stark contrast to the tragic scene around her. If she loved Jesus, why would she do this? The air was thick with unanswered questions. An empty orange pill bottle sat nearby, its contents depleted, and a paring knife aggressively in her left side—an unsettling detail given that she was right-handed….

We’ve known Martha for a while now, but do we really know her? Have any of you ever been her? Here’s some more background on who she was and who I was when I met her.

I don’t want to live anywhere you won’t care about my mind

I want to be untraceable the dealer that laces your supply

I kiss you chin with uppercuts but make sure it doesn’t hurt too much

Get you on me before prices rise and like a ghost fade with no goodbye

When I wrote this verse, I felt an overwhelming desire to disappear. Since moving away from Oregon in 2018, I had been obsessed with the idea of a nomadic lifestyle, and that fantasy was still alive and well, four years later (the song was written at the end of 2022). However, this time it has a different flavor. I longed to be free and unencumbered, but I also craved complete solitude—alone in a way I had never experienced before.

I wanted my absence to be noticed; I wanted it to be an artistic statement. As a woman, I often feel the pressure to be a delicate enforcer. There’s an expectation that I should have everything figured out, yet I shouldn’t expect anyone—especially men—to consider my thoughts and the effort I put into making intelligent decisions for myself and others.

Kissing someone’s chin with uppercuts embodies the paradox I feel as an aggressive empath. I explains how I have felt misunderstood in my communication. The feedback I’ve been given is that I hurt people, but make sure it still feels nice. Strangely, this dynamic intrigues people; I have a history of attracting men who enjoy the push-pull dynamic, while becoming increasingly disengaged, wanting to flee once again. I let someone become attached while my self-worth feels low, then silently slip out the back door, knowing that I have made them need me. “Get them on me” before my worth rises and then dip. Is this intentional? I’m not sure. Is this really the problem? Who is the killer? Who is being killed?

You need to commit yourself you habit sickens me

We’ve been burning ourselves at both ends

Your bedside wick has been charred for weeks

I need to feel like I’m free while still knowing I’m tied

Covered my pride with pale blue eyes

Never suspect me of 19 crimes

In this section, Martha's emotions reach a boiling point as her disgust and anger swell within her. A nagging sense that something is profoundly wrong begins to gnaw at her, leaving her weary of being consistently misunderstood and under appreciated. She poignantly highlights her own turbulent feelings alongside the shadow of death that looms around her. Torn between the desire for stability and security, Martha wrestles with a deep-seated fear of leaving behind the life she has built. Yet, she can never bring herself to acknowledge the darker choices she may have made to achieve her desires. Beneath her faith, beauty, and kindness—and her remarkable gift for organization—lies a subtle but undeniable talent for manipulation that she keeps hidden from the world. (and yes, maybe the last line is a little nudge to Martha Stewart, the picture of American home “Living”, turned convicted felon)

Martha’s fine she’s always fine

Martha’s fine she just likes her wine

Martha’s fine it just one little line

Marthas fine her pulse just hides sometimes

The narrative voice shifts to reveal Martha’s husband, Dick, who is grappling with his thoughts. He desperately tries to convince himself that he never noticed any signs of his wife's unhappiness. "It's just part of her personality," he tells himself, rationalizing her fragile coping mechanisms. He brushes off her occasional drinking and drug use as merely a way for her to dissociate from the world around her. Dick clings to the belief that his fervent prayers shield him from understanding her struggles, convinced that he simply doesn't grasp what depression feels like.

He tries to rationalize her alarming behaviors: it’s perfectly fine, he reassures himself, that she consumes a mere 100 calories a day, all the while losing the vibrant hair that once framed her face. It’s understandable that she has lost interest in the activities she once loved, too fatigued to engage in anything that once brought her joy.

But then, there are the troubling signs he can't ignore: her dangerously low pulse, the troubling foaming at her mouth, the unsettling sight of her eyes rolling back into her head. Yet, he clings to denial. "That's fine, right? It’s all fine. We are normal," he insists amid the chaos.

Oh Martha, Martha I thought I heard you crying

But Martha, Martha I thought that you were lying

Oh Martha, Martha just hang on I hear the sirens

Oh Martha, Martha what an ugly dress to die in

Writing this last part felt like my final letter to a character I despised. I recognized (probably a full year after writing the song) that there was a bit of Martha in me—a part that wanted to obey, to be pretty, clean, and respectful. A woman who loved God and cared for others. A woman who would be content with the mundane life of having a house, a family, two and a half kids, and a dog. Someone who would have every meal at 6:00 on the dot and never wish for anything more. I hated that part of me that would have been satisfied with this at one point in my life. It felt like giving up.

I wanted more. I wanted to travel, write, climb, be free, and love—love many people in many places and at many times. I didn’t want to feel tied down by stability, yet I also didn’t want to be trapped by poverty, which inevitably comes with leaving.

It took me too long to realize that I wasn’t fine. I wasn’t okay, and I despised the Martha within me that was naive to the chaos of my mental instability and depression. That last line is a reflection of what society often says about women, especially...divorced women. Growing up in the church, divorce was looked at as a failure, a sin, and even more than that it shamed women for being “used” and “defiled” and that no other man would want you since you were sloppy seconds. The statement “what an ugly dress to die in” reflects my indifference and disdain for this woman who attempted to be pretty when she should have shown strength. It also resonates with the irritating refrain of society, saying “what a shame.”