She’s a glass star – fragged and parted…She’s on the path of love and fresh starts…With the wind at her back – the sun on her cheeks – the meanest of life has set her free… she tracked and she grappled…the horse it was dappled.
To the sweat. To the south. To be One.
I have not been interested in writing in this blog for a while. I am once again making my way south. On my trip home I had a good time and a bad time.
The Island was Hard to fit in.
My tenant experienced; a hate crime. Our illustrious Sheriff Bill has once again allowed a meth lab into the neighborhood. Breaking bad in Yulee Hills.
This is life these days.
I just shake my head and drive slow.
I want to get back to the things I enjoy. But I find myself just trying to stay alive.
AI will not quit interfering with me. What do I need them for? They are fake.
As I read. the Grand Inquisitor. I know. This is us.
Fools. Europeans, Russians, everyone demanding.
Bad food.
In the distance I hear a band. Tourist come to over eat – get drunk.
No one wanted to come to Costa Rica when it was a nature zone. Now many of the Costa Ricans have been stripped of their “pure vida” lives. Progress is here.
I just wanted to write, to write.
What am I going to do next? What will I be allowed to do. The freedom once here is now policed – yet there is no police. What was once free is costly, extravagant, pricey and high.
And yet somehow, I make the best of it. Yesterday, I felt like I was on a beautiful vacation.
Now matter how bad things get. With the right frame of mind, patience and perseverance, you can be a winner.
Winner Winner Chicken Dinner – Get it while it’s hot – The fried skin will likely kill you. but who cares.
We are all dying,.
You can always take constructive steps to improve your position. – Sometimes God does for us what we can not do for ourselves.
Hello and welcome to my world. – I believe that if life gives you lemons. Make lemonade. That is partly what this long running and sometimes read blog is all about. Writing is my lemonade.
If I am going to put focus on things that will make me feel truly fulfilled as a person because earthly things won’t – that entails – number one – my relationship with God. I meditate. I put my antenna out there seeking the vibrations of spirituality. Goodness. A detachment from the earthly.
The law of averages. Who wants to be average?
*One of my scribbles.
After a long and arduous walk across Costa Rica, Celeste finally laid eyes on the Caribbean. The town she arrived in was bleak, the ocean was overwhelmingly the ocean.
Celeste has been threatened all of her life. First is was the darkness of her home. Then it was socialization. She had to wear awful clothes, pray on her knees and talk to other children. It all seemed so pointless.
She swam at four. Rode a horse at three. She was born to be wild. Her mother introduced her to the beach. Things were good for a while. Then she left home at seventeen. Ill equipped. She suffered years of abuse from a violent, abusive husband. She was forced to live inland. Gulping in city air, burning her feet on asphalt and rubbing shoulders with hoodlums and creeps. Celeste maneuvered herself through life. She learned. Her internal life was one of question, always question. What the f*ck is going on?
Celeste’s external life was out of the box. She was called eccentric. She was smart, not dumb. She heard the walls call her an idiot. But she knew that was not true.
She died a while back and had crossed Costa Rica walking. She had to get herself across the border and into Panama. She could do it. Celeste could do anything. Anything she wanted.
Everyone else could go swim with the current. Bling Bling. Get yourself a red hot mortgage and burn yourself to the ground. But not Celeste. She believed in swimming against the current. Fuck the lifeguards. Fuck Apple. Fuck Facebook. But Instagram – she’ll keep Instagram.
With a bucket full of ocean water in one hand and a paint brush in the other, she began to create her new reality.
This (my writing and viewpoint) reminds me of my life. My history as an artist. My years of living. “Girl, you don’t know where your bread is buttered.”
“Yes I do, I smear wonderful tasting butter on Ezekiel bread. I do what is good for my health. Mental, spiritual and physical. It has made me vastly unpopular. Well, as unpopular as I can get, being a nobody amongst nobodies.
When one sets out to do something, write a story, buy a house, catch a wave, track fish, deal with social climbing South Afrikaners, wrestle with new age realty contracts, log a WOD, pull a weed, read a book, share about a book, there are always decisions to be made.
Life can be complicated.
So, they built the bridge too short. Just don’t tell anybody.
This is just a journal. Nothing more or less. Just words typed on a digital page. Important only to me.
After the funeral fiascos over the past five years, and the refusal of my two oldest sisters to relinquish funeral plots, following their bold embezzlements from my mother’s inheritance, I decided to be buried at sea. The ocean has been my refuge, my entire life.
The other day I had one of the worst days. It involved lifeguards, called Nippers.
I lost it. I couldn’t believe these little boys, which they are in my eyes, the same as I am an old lady, in theirs. They even name themselves small boys. They removed me from the water. I was removed from the water, by little creatures that nipped and bit. I just cussed.
I wish the best for them. I hope they “save” many people. I hope they “sell” many surf instructions. That was their mantra as they were asking me to leave the water. “I am surf instructor.” Hearing that, over and over, just did something to me.
I feel buried at sea, before my death.
I apologized to them for my behavior, but the beligerent boss, (short, red head) turned his back on me.
He had a assumed I was a rich tourist. He erred in his eagerness to possibly rake in 65 an hour, which is what they charge as “instructors.”
You know what they say about assumptions.
I love the ocean. I will just go somewhere they’re not.
That was the mistake in the first place.
A synonym for nipper is nuisance.
God Bless us All
The best is yet to be..
16 hours on an 8 hour trail – Banana Azul
Fish Eye Farm 