Okay.
I am returned.
Bless you for your kind concern
and thank you for missing me.
It's almost like I was swallowed by a whale...
except I wasn't.
Winter kills, my friends,
winter just kills.
And so -
what, you might wonder,
has been happening of late -
here in my "rain-soaked life"?
Firstly - art has been happening...just a little.
I finished Number One of the 13 collages I must complete
for the international competition I plan to enter.
And, I discovered that the collage I donated to
the Paint It Pink Project is currently part of a traveling
exhibit and can sort-of be seen on their website.
Normally, it is unlike me to brag this way - but I have struggled
so desperately with my creativity since I stopped drinking
that I just cannot stop myself.
However - 'nuff said.
Nextly - I got another haircut,
thus bringing to an end the reign of the $60.00 head (sigh).
And finally - while the mystery bus of my early posts has not returned,
strange hijinks are afoot in that general area, so I have been poking my
nose where it least belongs in an effort to discover just what the hell
is happening 'round there.
I live in the woods - and my neighbors do likewise.
So, when I see a car driving through said woods - it catches my eye.
I mean - this car drove around inside the woods,
and then parked between two big trees.
I was on the road (where, oddly, I drive MY car) so I stopped to watch.
The driver; a bulbous, balding guy in a filthy t-shirt and jeans, got out
and was just shiffling and milling around.
After a moment, I unrolled my window and asked if he needed any help.
He said, "Naaaaw, I'm just kickin' it."
Just kickin' it?
It was 20 degrees at best.
It was dusk.
Who kicks it alone, in the middle of the woods?
Since then, I have seen this same guy, doing the same thing, several times.
I have discovered that he is a relative of the actual mystery bus people,
and that he has also been spotted (apparently still kickin' it)
sans car, up on a knoll behind another neighbor's house.
And finally, I heard that the bus-folk have surveilance equipment
all over their property...
hmmmm, whaddya suppose is going on over there?
Stay tuned, for when I happen upon an unknown the size of this one,
I am like a crazy ferret-woman, and I will not stop until I know more
than is likely healthy for me to know.
In other news - the Olympics seem as if they have been on since television was invented. I have enjoyed parts, but the commercials are endless!
Invasion has been fantastic (I love you Sherrif, I hate you Sherrif)
and tonight I rewatched part of Frida, falling in love all over again with those
manly caterpillar brows.
Forgive the rust all over this post -
I have missed writing so much, but I am out of shape!
back atcha tomorrow.
bs
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6 comments:
Rust? You call that rust?
Great stuff. We got a grown up Nancy Drew on our hands. I'd be a little cautious, though. It's a meth lab or sleeper cell-- it's certainly not a Mary Kay party.
I think it's great that you are making art, and I know how hard it is. I'm impressed with your focus. I rely on too many distractions and the credo: What are Starbucks for if not for novel-writing? And, as long as I am no where near a Starbucks, you can be sure I am not writing.
Anyway. I believe my email address is part of my profile. PLEASE feel free to drop a line.
Love the idea of sleuthing in the woods. When your done with the leviathan task of 13 collages-- pics, please-- you can start your mystery novel.
Welcome back.
Ditto!
Great to read the inner workings of your mind again.
When I lived in Chimacum, there was a whole community of tent people who lived in this funny little corner of a pasture where trees sat blob-like protecting them. I found them when I got lost on a mountain bike trail.
Their lives were amazing...not electricity, no running water, no real walls, just heavy army fabric. Interesting though a bit frightening as they seemed to pop up out of nowhere (or perhaps I was the one who popped out of nowhere?) and they were very leary of my presence.
Glad you're back sleuthing and arting!
Woah - when did you live in Chimacum? I might have known some of those tent-people...
and thanks to you RJ - I think I will drop you a line or two some day soon.
I lived in Chimacum from 1990-2002 approximately. I lived in a small cabin in the woods on the ridge above Beaver Valley Rd. (yes, folks, BEAVER Valley) and then later at the north end of West Valley. Finally I moved into PT after a big break up...
Years after my "tent" experience, I had a number of parent-teacher conferences with families who lived in that tent village and others like it in the woods near Port Townsend. When I was on my bike, that was my first encounter...I never realized until much later just how many villages there were like that.
Of course, I also never realized how divided the Port Townsend classes are between the trust-fund babies and the very poor until after a few years of living there...and that the very poor were the people often working in those ritzy shops in PT catering to the tourists who saw PT as so quaint and cute...which on the surface it is...
...but underneath...
Oh Port Townsend...
As with Aspen and Park City and Telluride (and so many other places): set builders and painters and caterers are required so that the show above ground can go on.
I lived out in that area waaay back in the late 70's and early 80's. Likely, many of the tent/teepee people I knew had died, gone to jail, or moved on by the time you arrived.
Ah - the good old days.
"Just kickin' it?" What does THAT mean? Do other people know what it means? Like special "woods people?" Your words are always always always exciting and fascinating to read. Keep on kicking, Brown Shoes.
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