Fish

Smoke the rabbit out of the hole.

Sleep is elusive early this morning.
What is it about the luxury of being able to sleep in that thwarts sleeping in?

Restless; tossing and turning in hot sheets in the green cast early morning light. Finally tired of sighing with the frustration of it all I get up. A summer chill is in the air and the dense layer of white clouds tinged with grey reflecting off all the greenery of summer give the morning its green hue. Gingerly stepping on feet that don't want to walk just yet.

I stagger to the Krups machine pick it up and fill it with water. It seems heavier then usual and I struggle to hold it upright as I place it on the pad that makes it boil. I dodge the projects that clutter the kitchen. The wash machine is broke and since it is a stackable both are out of the cupboard and in the kitchen. The laundry basket is in the kitchen to remind me to go to the laundry mat, large oil paintings that are drying and dinner dishes. Shit is everywhere, but what can you do?

I grab my last cigarette and head to the porch, out here it is cluttered too. An armchair had to be moved to the porch to get the washer and dryer out. Along with the porch table and chairs and Nicks gardening table, its rather crowded out here and in my mind. I glance fondly at the chair, it looks mighty comfortable to sit in, but move instead to the stoop. I light up and smoke that first lovely cigarette of the day. It's my favorite one.

As a writer and artist I have the right to change the order of things to suit me.

Nick joins me on the stoop and says, "want to go fishing."

That perks me right up and out of restless. Out of aches, pains and general early morning regrets.

Lake Cooper

Yo Poppy

Took a long meandering walk about town. Taking photo's of poppies for a new painting series. I have been asked by two separate people to display art in upcoming events. I need to get on it. Two of my favorite photo's on that walk.

Date Night (Wind: Writers Group Excerpt)

Last night was date night, we made burgers together and then walked down to the theater cutting through the alleys to come up behind the theater, noticing the peeling paint of Marlon Brando. Maleficent was on it's final night. The scenery in the movie was beautiful almost like a constant painting. After the movie we walk up the street in the twilight to Marko's against the constant spring wind for cocktails and conversation. 

It's dark when we leave, and still the incessant wind whips around corners and steals your breath. The kind of wind that is wicked enough to open latched doors. We walk home cutting through the lot next to the museum and then take the alley guided by the light of the almost full moon.  Walking in the dips and ruts, steering ourselves around the trees and bushes to catch Wick and Stephan's shadows in our yard peeing.

As we ourselves are talking about peeing in our yard on the walk home through the back alley. Laughing at the coincidence and at catching them with their pants down, Nick joins them peeing. After the markings and boundary's are set in the night soil we are invited back over to Wick's for a beer at the fire pit. His fence leans into the hillside and getting into his backyard is like getting into a tent. Dipping, ducking and gingerly stepping through the door to enter an enclosed dark world.

I stand at the rock fire pit and stare mesmerized into the flames. Wick has built it into the side of his yard tucked under a hill and that leaning fence. The protection of the fence and walls does not stop the wind and it sprays embers in fitful moments. I love a good fire, but fighting the desire to go on home and skip this moment of sociability. Then Nick pulls me into a conversation with Stephen that opens the floodgates of creativity and the love of writing. His major in college was Literature.

We stand and occasionally flip sides as the fire warms the front or back and when the heat reaches through to burn it's time to turn and braise the other side. Later, much later smelling of wood and flame our heads on the pillow are ruffled by the breeze as it climbs through the window. The smell moves around the bedroom and the peace and tranquility of a great date night lulls us to sleep.

Doldrums

I'm not suffering from any real stress, but I'm struggling with a large case of anti-sociability, I think I might have just made up that word, nope just spelled it wrong is all. This week hunkered down and stayed home. Fighting something I can't put my finger on, but happy to be in my home with all my favorite things while gardening, painting and writing, although writing has been elusive. Elusive factored in by my restlessness. Restless and antisocial.

I have been out though, fighting the home bound happiness. Knowing I need to be social. I have been to Issaquah to get a book. "Written in my own hearts blood." Four long years of waiting for this book. Maybe my reluctance to write comes with the wish of wanting to be able to write as well as she does. The worry as I read my words that they are goofy our missing something. While hers are eloquent and deep, full of meaning and wonder.

Last night was date night and we made burgers and then walked down to the theater and watched Maleficent. The scenery in the movie was beautiful and I enjoyed the movie and that Maleficent was a good person at heart. After the movie we walked up to Marko's against the constant Spring wind for cocktails and conversation. Nick needing his own outing after being forced into anti-social by the trouble he made for himself. The outing to the bar, was lackluster and not fulfilling. I'm trying to find the word for it but cannot find it yet, perhaps later it will come to me.

It's dark when we leave, and still the incessant wind whips around corners and steals your breath. We walk home cutting through the lot next to the museum and then take the alley guided by the light of the almost full moon.  Walking in the dips and ruts, steering ourselves around the trees and bushes to catch Wick and Stephan's shadows in our yard peeing. As we ourselves are talking about peeing in our yard on the walk home through the back alley. Laughing at the coincidence and at catching them with their pants down. Nick joins them peeing and then we join them in Wicks backyard for a fire and another beer.

I stand at the rock fire pit and stare mesmerized into the flames, Wick has built it into the side of his yard tucked under a hill. The protection of fence and walls does not stop the wind and it sprays embers in fitful moments. I love a good fire, but fighting the desire to go on home and skip this moment of socialbility. Then I find myself in a conversation with Stephen that opens the floodgates of creativity and the love of writing. His major in college was Literature.

In the morning after the fire. I'm writing and warming up with my blog to get to the serious business of working on a book. I write through the day and my man comes home and finds me writing and watching ESPN. "It's so sexy that you are writing and watching ESPN." That makes me smile because I have also watched a boxing match on my laptop and the about sends him into ecstasy and suddenly I have worked through the doldrums.

The doldrums is a colloquial expression derived from historical maritime usage, in which it refers to those parts of the Atlantic Ocean and the Pacific Ocean affected by the Intertropical Convergence Zone, a low-pressure area around the equator where the prevailing winds are calm. The low pressure is caused by the centrifugal force from the rotation movement of the Earth which is most important at the equator, which makes the air rise and travel north and south high in the atmosphere, until it subsides again in the horse latitudes. Some of that air returns to the doldrums through the trade winds. This process can lead to light or variable winds and more severe weather, in the form of squalls, thunderstorms and hurricanes. The doldrums are also noted for calm periods when the winds disappear altogether, trapping sail-powered boats for periods of days or weeks. The term appears to have arisen in the 18th century – when cross-Equator sailing voyages became more common.

Colloquially, the "doldrums" are a state of inactivity, mild depression, listlessness or stagnation.