She saw the sun was filtering through the corn like plants, in the field next door. Kim pictured her friend doing yoga poses. She saw the shot. Her friend, the light, the poses.
The plants are gone. Time has passed. Pictures are priceless.
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 a 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, among others.
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 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
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.
I suppose it’s a matter of perspective. – Today, I was headed to Jacksonville on A1A. There are now, “don’t bother the birds” signs, on the best beach, for flounder fishing. Another spot gone.
If you’re new here to Amelia Island, you are surely calling it paradise. Jetting around in your new car, that you bought from your northern sale, profit. Good for you. You also complain about the slow cars. You’re on an island. Slow the fuck down, dumb ass.
The picture above is, of a building; a place where we use to get our tires fixed. It’s being demolished. Now you can go to Tire Kingdom and get ripped off. I took my truck to them and said, no thank you. They just weren’t qualified to touch my truck. I have to go to Yulee for good service. But there’s a long wait.
One mile up the road, across the street from Winn Dixie are hobo camps. They hide by the CSX tracks and shoot fentanyl. It’s a sad world out there. But they too have discovered paradise. The word is out!
Everybody wants what they want. From high rise condos that are apt to collapse over time, to lost souls deteriorating amongst brown, fallen palm tree fronds. I just want to fish, and be in unpolluted ocean water. Sales and marketing didn’t bring me here. Neither did the whispers of the Jacksonville junkies.
I’m the kind of person, that runs ahead of the crowd. My good fortune has been my love of nature and dislike of pretentious bullies.
So, I will rely on my years of patience and perseverance.
I will skin this cat.
Meeeooowwww!
I am not a poet. I have a beat. I have an attitude.
I have been beat ~ down
I have been lifted up ~
I have placed my weight so far out, that I hindered my chances ~ a brief encounter
stalked by an engagement of force that left me
waiting for breath
I am not a poet.
I
Despite wealth, fame, and accomplishments, all human beings are subject to impermanence. People, places, and material things will always come and go; we can’t stop it. There are times we will be stripped of everything we have tried to hold onto. Once we accept those seemingly unacceptable circumstances, we will be led to surrender; and on the other side of surrender is a joy and peace that is not of this world. (From The Mindful Addict)
It’s a new day, of a new year. And today my resolution is God-conciousness. I have zig-zagged for thirty years. I get side tracked. I become involved in worldly things. It never works. Continue reading Not of this World
Every year on our island, we have a festival celebrating shrimp. Our town, Fernandina Beach, Florida, is the birthplace of the industry, in the United States.
I remember the first shrimp boat race that I went to. It’s many years in the past, but I vividly recall the sun on the water, and the people on the dock. We were spectators to a highly, unusual event. Shrimp boats, decorated with colorful flags were “racing” towards us, on the intercostal waterway.
Every one always cheered for the Dixie Queen. It was the pride of the local fleet. Continue reading The Fearless Fish
Fish Eye Farm 