Raw

Today is a good day considering the amount of turmoil that can happen in a matter of days in ones life. Not sure I'm going to talk about it much in a blog format but in some form the feelings have to come out.

So I will be cryptic and those that know me can read between the lines.

Captain Phil Harris's son Jake Harris of The Deadliest Catch was at Sundown last week. I'm not sure that this is common knowledge but I do have an inside informant. Jake Harris only lasted two days, which is too bad. My inside informant seems to be doing okay. He is still there and that is what matters. But in the way addicts do, they start being brutally honest when coming clean.

Sometimes that honesty can be shocking. How do they get to the places they arrive? The only thing I have ever been addicted to is cigarettes and I'm not sure I always understand; the why, the power, the draw of such powerful drugs. Because in my mind; why would you ever take the risk to have to live a life like that.

This week has been tough in so many ways and raw is the word that fits.

I'm confused deeply about my love life.
I have loved many drug addicts.
Money is tight.
The wondering behind why I seem to pick men who do not want to have a relationship is wearing me out.

I'm restless; worried, writing in many places trying to figure it all out and it is stretching my heart in a million directions. Lying and keeping a secret; telling myself it is not my story to tell, to loved ones. All this is combining into one big combustible fire ball keeping the skin so tightly taut that every thought is raw.

Full circle; I have mentioned that before in other blogs. To return to Roslyn has my life coming full circle. Everything I ran from is happening again. The point this time I think is that by running it allowed me to be able to deal with it this time. I spend so much time with Nick and the memories this time invokes have been relentless and I'm dealing with them one by one. Followed by another drug addiction so close to my heart that I have to stand and fight this time, instead of walking away. But it has also opened many wounds, fears and worries. 

I was restless last night and lonely. Nick must have sensed it in some way because he was tired from work and that long weekend of endless baseball games but stopped in to visit and then came back by after I was done working, much later in the evening and still rallied to walk to Marko's with me to play an intense game of ping pong. He is a good friend and I might be falling in love with him and that worries me constantly. Because I want to... but I want it to be mutual.

Love is its own drug. Sneaky, addictive and terrifying.

Sparks

18 Candles

Research and looking for a spark.
A spark of interest taking me further than the last one.

The last one was Friday morning after watching Contraband. I liked that movie. You did not have to worry about who the bad guy was, because they were all bad. It took place in New Orleans and was about smuggling. But that gave me a little spark about bad versus good. Plus the location for gun running had possibilities.

Levels of bad.

Leading to 'write what you know'. I know Seattle and looking for a spark of interest about running guns and prohibition to tie it all together.

I finished my painting. Man did I struggle with this one. The spark has gone out of me for it and I struggled to get the bottom right corner right. Basically just wanted out of that painting. While my friend Ginger and I were smoking on the front porch of the Gallery I was telling her my ideas behind Mil ( Honey) that were filtering through and that I was sorting out. Another painter and writer Gerald came and sat down beside us and mentioned that his wife Charlene had wrote her thesis on prohibition in the Upper County.  She kindly let me borrow it.

Getting and gathering all the feelings behind the story. As always the ideas behind the beginning before I write are fascinating.. ( to me anyway) because of how much they will change and grow when I start to write it. 

Smoke signals

Monday I stepped out on the porch for my 3:00 break; I glanced to the left of my porch out of habit. The first glance did not quite register and then I looked again. A thundercloud. It sunk in I looked again. Wow that is one big thundercloud. But I paused for a moment and cocked my head, thinking...soaking the thoughts. How could we have a thundercloud with no clouds? We have had no clouds for days. A chill crosses the skin of my upper arms and that sinking feeling in your stomach mixed with that feeling I can best describe as your blood gets steamed under your skin making you break out in a sweat.

Eric my neighbor comes out on his porch that sits alongside mine and he glances left out of habit too. Looks over at me, "It that a thundercloud?"
"I was just wondering the same thing" I reply, "It kind of looks like a fire."
"I think it is a fire too. Scary.'
"Yeah."

At six I headed down to the park to watch Nick's baseball game as I walked a float plane made a pass over my head. Heading to the lake. It looks like a float plane but it can fill up with water. I don't know what they call those. But it has started making passes over us to Lake Cle Elum. I reached the park and watched the game and as I walked home I ran into Nate my renter at the shortcut to home. We talked about the fire and he said Tammy and Scott lost their house. Again with the chills up my arms. Later in the evening it was reconfirmed that they had not lost their house and it is the house in the picture above.


Tuesday morning I drove to Cle Elum and you could see the fire as it burned Lookout mountain. I took the back way up the Tanuem and took pictures along the way. After I left much of it burned as the winds gusted and stirred up deep trouble.  The week was long with the following two days hot and hotter, no wind and yet a small breeze that changed direction causing chills for the third time this week to run across my arms. Blowing the smoke up the valley to us. It sets heavy and sultry in the air. We are hoarse and raspy after three days of inhaling heavy smoke. The kids schools and playgrounds are colored with the domes of hundreds of fire fighters tents. 984 as of this Saturday, fireman helping us to get this contained.

Last night in the dark I walked down the street to meet Nick at the 'Y' to head to the Brick for awhile to listen to 'Down North' a friend of Nicks from High School, girlfriend was playing in the band. As I made my way down the hill. Two Fire trucks pulled to the house I walked in front of and some firefighters got out looking exhausted. Startled I said "Hi," and then stopped and said "Thank you, Thank you."

"Your welcome."
 

That is so gay, dude.

Friday morning pretty bright and pretty early a sassy red head showed up on my doorstep for her Aunt Shanie weekend. We painted, we walked, we met people and we had a dinner party.That was Friday. Saturday we walked to the Fischer's and got fresh eggs and went to the park again. With big plans to go fishing in the afternoon.

I invited Nick for our ritual Friday dinner and then also invited my friends Shannon and Mario. With Miss O in residence it would be a full house. I planned my menu: Sirloin burgers with fresh Havarti on Cle Elum Bakery buns, Kielbasa with Morels and Basmati Rice. Fresh salad from the garden and from the vines at the 'pumpkin house' picked raspberries and strawberries to eat with the Almond Gateau Breton.

The night before Nick was over and as we stood in the dark on the front porch. I told him that Mario and Shannon were gay and coming for dinner. He started laughing and telling me a story that had me laughing into the dark summer night. Earlier in the day he had been telling his friends that he had a 'Cleopatra bath' and that they needed to feel his skin it was so smooth and soft.
        They looked at him and said "what are you gay now?"
        He said "does that make me gay?"
        "Yes dude that is gay, especially if you are asking us to feel and smell your skin."
        "I dont think I'm gay. Does it make me gay?" As he says this to me he pushes back from the porch and glances down at his package covered by his pants. "I'm pretty sure I wasn't gay last night." Then with a twinkle in his green eyes, he says "It really worked though my skin is so smooth and soft." Chuckling he glances over at me. "But they told me, It's gay dude."

Laughing hard, "I say, "I can't really believe you are going around admitting to taking a bath like that in this town. I'm kind of hoping you mentioned that I was in the bath with you. Makes it not seem so gay."
 
He had me laughing so hard I had tears in my eyes and I'm not really doing the story justice but since he was late to dinner Friday I told Shannon and Mario the story. They laughed and asked does he not want to meet us? Is that why he is late, Oh no, I said he will be here and when he got there, they really liked him. Guy Shannon can be hard to impress and even said at one point. "He is so not your type and I like him." We drank an outrageously expensive bottle of whiskey that is the best I have ever tasted, laughed and talked in the hot night.

Mario and Shannon also brought me four bottles of Wicked a carbonated Vodka drink from the British Isles. Tastes like a blue raspberry popsickle and it has been years since I have had it. Just as good in the U.S. as in Dublin. Maybe ironic the last time I had it was in Ireland with Shannon and my Irish man (whom he did not like.)

We took Miss O up to Cooper Lake to fish and canoe. She had never fished before and was not fond of canoeing. But that charming smile and kindness of Nicks won her over and she had a blast. We rowed to the end of the lake to where the Cooper River feeds into the lake and it was so shallow and refreshing in the hot summer sun that we had to get out and play on the island.

After fishing we headed back to town and stopped by the lake for the sunset. Miss O and I made a sand castle and then headed home to a movie in bed. The wrong one fell asleep, she woke me to say my phone was ringing.

Negotiation Tactics

Slacking on writing, but not really because I'm in that mode of thinking and planning and forming ideas for a new book. Letting ideas soak. Gathering tidbits of information waiting for the moment is clicks completely. It is coming I can feel it. The other morning I woke up and knew the answer to the layout and flow of the book something I had been dwelling on for a while. I woke up and made a cup of tea and woke Nick up as he was sleeping on the couch covered in a light moss green blanket and told him about it.

This is not a new book it is one I have been thinking about since high school. I find the IRA incredibly intriguing and the women in it even more so. Even more intriguing I'm building a woman who has been raised by a leader of the IRA. She knows how to shoot, kill and make bombs. Another fact even in high school she has been that powerful in my mind... back then I did hours of research about the mental state of a woman and how that type of woman could be capable of killing. How she would be formed in childhood. I don't want her to be a cold blooded killer, a psychopath she has to be capable of loving as well. The woman in the IRA have found this balance. Soldiers.

Even more intriguing is the response from the men in my life with regards to this type of woman. Two responses after putting it out there.. sexy.

A quote I found about women killing in acts of war and then happened to be about the IRA..

"For example, of the women in the provincial Irish Republican Army group that I talked to, not one was coerced; they were enthusiastic about their roles."

Also I'm currently reading Sinn Fein; A hundred turbulent years by Brian Feeney. It is tough read. I have to look up words...
eg: Fissiparous & Internecine

As I sat in my cast iron tub soaking in hot water infused by milk and oil, working out work stress and part of a storyline idea on a cold summer night facing my friend Nick at the other end of the tub; talking to him about a very delicate subject matter, or talking it out with him for the story line I realized I needed to have a delicate discussion with him of my own. To ask if we needed to renegotiate our friendship.

No matter how tough a human thinks they are, they are still susceptible to feelings and caring about somebody. No matter how simple you keep it. Time builds trust, and trust and time build feelings. I'm not sure I ever want to live with this guy. I'm not sure what he wants suddenly. But I like him and care about him and need to know if it is changing at all and if so I have to prepare mentally for it.

So we discussed it later in the bedroom and found a comfortable place for us and what we both need and suddenly I'm free of worries and filled with ideas for life, writing and fun. Practicing: he has me practicing a relationship. I have let him into my life, he has met and knows my boys. Occasionally he spends the night. But he is not the one. But we do have something to teach one another and maybe he is the answer to figuring out the storyline as I practice and conquer my fears of being coldhearted and figure out a character. 

Fissiparous is a tendency to divide into groups or factions and internecine is to be mutually destructive. All things the Irish are guilty of for many different reasons. However two Irish descendents can negotiate a friendly pact of sex and friendship while setting naked in the tub facing each other. Maybe the Irish should have forced the English into the tub with them years ago.

Perhaps if England would have exposed their skin, penises and breasts a little more often... they would not not have had the need to control and conquer the world in such a brutal fashion. Trying to squash out independence, language and customs. The Scottish, Irish on and on....

Although they have softened much in this century. I will give them that. On a closing note; a quote by Danny Morrison, Sinn Fein 1981.

"Who here really believe we can win a war through the ballot box? But will anyone here object if, with a ballot paper in one hand and an Armalite in the other, we take power in Ireland?"

That quote gives me chills. Because she will place that idea in the IRA's head that violence can't always be the answer, but a slow infiltration of politics would be wiser and far reaching.