Papa rolled his stones. Six feet under and no one was thinking about him. MaMa was hanging on. She rolled in dough. Controlling with the point of a finger, a smile, good food, love, narcotics and alcohol. That’s the way I remember it. That’s two fascinating people right there.
I gave up on the insanity of alcohol. I moved to another world called Planet Sobriety. It’s filled with laughter, deep thought, friends, nutrition, Crossfit, surfing, playing music, painting. All the things I wanted to do but couldn’t. – When I drank. – I do not miss alcohol. Nor the expense. Be it monetary, emotional or just plain trouble.
*This photo was taken on my iPhone11 on a trip to San Jose, Costa Rica. It is a mural painted on a highway column in the center of Liberia, Costa Rica.
Morally indefensible – Disrobe your social self – What you reveal and conceal – Luck; residue of design.
I purchased On The Road. A 24 dollar book with miles of entertainment for my brain. I am on page 56; still in the introduction. A foreword describing the process of Jack Kerouac’s writing and publishing. His personal thoughts on what drove him. He was divergent. Something that people for the most part do not want to be. I believe it was natural to him. He was a product of Catholicism, jazz, travel and drugs.
Continue reading New/Old StoryIn conclusion, it is crucial to reflect on our own attitudes and expectations before criticizing our surroundings. Happiness and respect are personal quests that begin with self-understanding and a sincere openness to other cultures.
Lines copied and pasted from an article in a Potrero / Uncensored Group. FB
And the beat goes on.
I have no picture. Only the one in my head. – I sat at a large table made of Guanacaste wood. I looked out at a simple building teeming with people. Waiting on people. I was at a restaurant. In the jungle. I looked at all of the gringos. And remembered the past.
Continue reading Black BeachThe underbelly – The pulse of all that is wrong
Creating a sharp noise
Silent rings ever widening
Sunshine state sonar
Undone – diligence – myopic
Escape from ferocity
Escape from greed
Escape from the streets
Of Jacksonville
Twisted hate
Peace and love
Churning like the currents of the river
I woke up dreaming
My I phone in my hand
The impact of reality
Human character - Hidden violence
The underbelly – The pulse of all that is wrong
To all of my regular readers, thank you. We have hung in there.
This is still a personal journal, but with a new twist. I have joined a writer’s group. I never thought this would be possible here in the tropics. I am grateful. Once a week I get to meet with other writers and artists. We have discussions about the how to get our work out there.
Continue reading I’m PregnantOut in the swamp, in Baldwin, Florida, under the earth, by a body of water, lay the bones of black men. Stolen from the streets of Jacksonville. Killed by vicious, backwoods moonshiners. Men who believed black people were like animals. Convinced they were animals. Put on this earth to be supportive of them. To provide a service; be it barking to protect, pulling a plow, or a source of transportation.
If they were of no use any longer. You kill ’em.
Now some people think killin means shootin. Not thinking, that if you want to kill a man, at an illegal whiskey operation, you don’t want to create an explosive sound. One that would draw attention to your egregious deed. You can slit their throat. Shove their face in the convenient mud. Suffocating their life’s energy. Laugh at their struggle. Why deprive yourself of the entertainment?
You could drown them in the creek and feed them to the gators. Save the time of diggin a grave. And you know those white, backwoods moonshiners didn’t do any digging. It would be a good guess those demoralized, threatened, tortured, helpless men, dug their own graves. Their flesh and bones long ago decayed. Now consumed by the swamp ooze that abounds in Florida.
Stagnant – missing – lost.
But all of this is an educated guess. We don’t know exactly who or how all of this happened. Pure evil murder.
But be sure it happened.
I am a Cracker by Birth – A Redneck by Default and a Peace Activist through reading, writing and education.
Did the statues need to be removed? - Yes
Will it bring peace to Jacksonville – No
Black and White Black and White Black and White Black and White Black and White
Black in White White in Black Black in White White in Black Black in White White in Black
In 100 years, the population of Jacksonville is going to be people of color.
The question is….What will we fight about then?
Yet another peace and serenity debacle. This looks like death and destruction to some gringos. OMG
This pic is from home. I don’t surf fish there anymore either. It’s just too much. But that’s because people fish with four to eight rod and reels. Put there lines in, back from the tide. They try to tell me how to fish. Another OMG.
My husband was fishing on the beach in Potrero. He had a Jack on the line. His earlier catch were laying on the beach. He was picturing handing the fish in to the local ladies. He could see their smiles already.
When he landed the Jack, he looked where his fish had been.They were gone. Rooster asked a Tico man, “What happened to my fish?”
Some gringo stopped and threw them back in the water. WTF
That’s not the only crazy thing that has happened to us here while surf fishing. And if I went surf fishing today there would be some new craziness.
You travel two thousand miles to surf fish in peace and it ain’t going to happen. It use to be wonderful. But now there are people here who have a vision for Costa Rica. And they are going to make you do it their way.
NOT
This person (the fish savior) probably had all of the trees cut down on a lot to build themselves a huge house. And he probably has a cement pond. And he probably eats fish in restaurants.
So now we are going to have to get some sort of a water vehicle to get away from these people. Not unlike Amelia.
Today I surf.
Merry Christmas
*I do not write this blog to attract readers. I have no idea of making money. This is a private journal. I write and write. I look back. I like it.
I do prefer to live where there are no amenities. Where the electricity cuts off all of the time. Where there are few restaurants. Few people. Bad roads.
I prefer places that are paradise and others think they are hell. Because that’s when they are paradise.
Once a place is paradise to others, it is hell to me.
I’m not fighting – I’m running
Civilization is traumatizing ~
Fish Eye Farm 