Keep on keeping on ~
Hello to ALL ~
You don’t have to be blind to be in the dark
To loose sight of God is to be blind
You can be blind and see everything
Everyone in Tamarindo knows Ellen Zoe Golden. She was one of the first people to catch my attention when at a rodeo, in Playa Negra 1996. She has a lot of beautiful tattoos and back then they weren’t as common. The same as the young man on a motorcycle that had dreads. I looked around me and thought I need to be here, with these people. I did dread my hair and I do have a few tatts. But not like Ellen.
She came here from Miami as a journalist and worked for the Howler, writing the surfing column. She actually wrote a Christmas issue about me. She told me I was the best woman surfer she had ever seen other than Andre Diaz. You know that was a long time ago.
We’ve always been friends. Life saving friends. I was so depressed one New Year’s Eve. We stood and watched tow ins – in to twenty foot waves, at Pico Alto. She told me positive words and the exterior soaked into the interior. I survived another day. The surfers did pretty good too.
I am going to San Jose to visit her and take her some items. It’s hard to believe she has cancer. She is positive. She is looking to be healed. I know I want to see her.
There’s no one like her.
Stubborn, smart, she surfs. She has been able to survive down here all of these years.
She also is a publicist, Billy Idol being one of her clients. And Gene Simmons. I always thought that was cool.
She went to school for journalism. Something I thought about, when I was young. Then forgot about.
I have been growing Ellen Zoe as a good friend for a long time.
She has NEVER been anything but good to me.
I hate cancer. I could say a lot more on that subject, but won’t.
So for five hours, I will drive into the city. Kiss her cheek with my mask on and turn around and come home.
I love Ellen Zoe. As well as many other people do. Let’s all have positive thoughts.
Vamos a ver.
I’ve seen his name many times. I’ve seen Bukowski quotes often. But yesterday, I saw him on you tube.
I have a lot in common with Bukowski. And that was why his writing became so popular. People could relate to his life. We have many differences as well. Who knows, after all it was only about an hour long interview. So, how much can I really compare. He doesn’t like people. He liked a solitary existence and he liked to drink beer. He said his childhood was a hell.
A big difference between him and I was; he wrote. And he worked. I worked here and there, but he was more successful at keeping a job than I was. He would write about his experiences. I couldn’t do that. Until I finally did. Also, he said his only concern was for himself. I have been entirely too co-dependent in my life to make such a statement.
And he always wrote in first person. He didn’t write for “success”. He wrote to stay alive. (check)
He drank a lot. It looked like his choice was beer. (check)
I no longer drink beer. I quit at thirty one, by going to AA. (Let’s get real. AA is no longer an anonymous society) When I came in, it was a different time. A different world and I loved it. It’s had it’s rocky moments. But I overcame them all. – Then the judges started sending in all their D.U. I. people. And in the early nineties, people began to substitute psychotropics for their inventories.
Now I have tremendous conflict in meetings. I have fat boys, that don’t like what I say. Good Lord they need to look in the mirror and while they are at it, they should record the stupid shit that they are saying.
I was all well and good with the conflict. I have always heeded to the last paragraph on page 19. Respect everyone’s share. Then started the attacks. I have been verbally attacked in the past, but this was a barrage. Fuck that. It’s because I have become old. They look at me with my grey hair and choose me as prey. They have no idea.
For example: One guy looks like Homer Simpson. He says that only the first eighty eight pages, in the Big Book count. He is disparaging of women’s shares. He wanted to buy a 5000 square foot house. And he wonders why he can’t get along with his wife. He was in meetings for 14 years and never worked a step. Now he has and he is on fire for everyone to be like him. FMD — One meeting, I was sharing my experience, of my first sponsor being Buddhist. He screamed at me, “This has nothing to do with Buddhism.” blahblahblah – The other fat boy is just fat and he thinks he’s good looking. He cut me off. He didn’t want to hear what I had to say. He obviously thinks he is interesting.
My thoughts behind this is – What would it have been like if Bukowski came to a meeting.
I am so inspired by his words. Because I know they are true. But in a meeting he would be a challenge. It might be a better option for some people to just stay home and write.
Who needs fake authenticity.
To be beat unmercifully, is tragic. To be unprotected is sad. To not be acknowledged is a sin.
Trauma – PTSD – Obsessive Compulsive Disorder – Gaslighting – Narcicissm – Humiliation – Threats
It’s all common every day experience.
It’s all good….enjoy your day.
It’s all good.
Have you ever had someone next to you shove paper up their nose. Then be grabbed and beat half to death. It’s good. It really is. I swear it happened to me and it was good.
I have a ghost She sings me lullabies I am her child.
I am underwater Her voice filtered By particles of oxygen.
With her I can breath I can harmonize I am her mother
Leaning off the edge of the bed, touching the weights, that remind her of her infirmities, she rose up.
Walking in the dark, she paced herself.
She placed her elbows on the table, in front of her computer. She began to cry.
God knows, she has so much to rise above.
Today is the ten year anniversary of FisheyeFarm blog. I am pleased at my reflection. Why not? The above photos are profile shots of friends from Facebook. I have my camera in my hand if I go to answer the door. One thing has led to another. My life unfolds. Work with what you have. Do your best. (that varies) People first – Money second / Don’t worry – Be happy
Here I am again. Who cares? I do.
I was recently told that my writing, in this blog is not good. That it is stream of consciousness.
To each his own, said the old lady that kissed the cow.
Did I write that correctly? Is that punctuated correctly?
I don’t know and I don’t give a sh*t.
These are the hindrances that keeps someone from writing. It’s what can constipate your life.
I own this blog. I own my words. This is my journal. I have made it clear, I do not write to attract readers. I could care less who reads it. It’s not for the readers. It is for me. It is for my survival.
So, is it good? Yes, it’s good.
I have been doing a lot of writing off line. My daughter’s passing away. My conflict with family. My internal struggles have been too much to put out there. So, I write on paper. And I write in my Pages App. Cancer is Personal. My Family is a Cluster F*CK
I encourage anyone and everyone to write. It is medicine for your soul. No one is going to care about your being more than yourself.
perennial – adjective – everlasting, perpetual eternal, continuing, unending, never-ending, endless, undying, ceaseless, abiding, enduring, lasting, unchanging, never-changing
~ The spanish word for death is muerte. To die is morir. It’s a verb that indicates an indefinite change. Death is not the end.
Today is Aislinn’s birthday.
I remember the day she was born. It was conflict from the onset. My mother and sister brought me home, from the hospital. I thought it was more important, for my husband to work, but I was wrong. We needed that bonding. We needed a lot of things. THINGS we never got; love, attention, direction.
I can remember her entire life. What we had together.
One day, we all will not be – but we will.
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