Tag: star

Pick Your Poison

I was working on my smile…..

I have. And I’m still standing. I look at this portrait and remember. Khaki shorts, a red hoodie with the sleeves cut, always a back pack. Pencils, sketchbook and a book in tow. Cruising A1A, in the morning hours, the marsh washed, in an array of pastels. People. Louise Freshman Brown, Paul Ladnier, Judy, Biz, the woman that I pushed into tears. Trips to New York. Getting off The Path in New Jersey. it was slightly snowing. I was hoping someone would attack me. Kind of the same feeling I would get in Publix, only more intense. I use to leave my pocket book, in the cart, a little open. And hope someone would try to steal it, so I could chase them down and beat the hell out of ‘em. Bernard Marco, and his insanity. His money and his good taste. His fireplace that he had reworked, into a polynesian face, with a mouth, wide open. Cleveland Brown, his eighteen year old friend. He was eighty.. We did a photo shoot. My photos are somewhere. He changed my world, as many people did. I drove his BMW. We sailed on the river, Bernard, Rooster, Cleveland and myself. The captain’s wife said,”oh it’s nice, you brought your granddaughter.” He was a bit of a last straw. He had found a gallery for me, in New York. The same one I saw, and said, oh that’s where I would like to be. He told me how to paint, and what to paint. I was advised to do the dog and pony show. Hell no. That’s not my poison. If life is a trail to an end, why would I want to do that? My life is my own; his poison would kill me. Poison is personal.

Continue reading Pick Your Poison

Cardboard Castles

The other day I purged my reading list; people that I follow on WordPress. I hesitated at one by a Texas, desert dweller, Old Jules. I hadn’t read it in a while. However, I decided to keep it and I’m glad I did.

I read his post,  The Nightmares of Acceptance.

He had once said that he did not write about his childhood. And that he never would.

Well, he did. Continue reading Cardboard Castles

Salvage

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Salvage from the depths of the sea ~ the nadar of my existence.

salvage |ˈsalvij|
verb [ with obj. ]
rescue (a wrecked or disabled ship or its cargo) from loss at sea: an emerald and gold cross was salvaged from the wreck.
• retrieve or preserve (something) from potential loss or adverse circumstances: it was the only crumb of comfort he could salvage from the ordeal.
noun
the rescue of a wrecked or disabled ship or its cargo from loss at sea: [ as modifier ] : a salvage operation was under way.
• the cargo saved from a wrecked or sunken ship: salvage taken from a ship that had sunk in the river.
• the rescue of property or material from potential loss or destruction.
• Law payment made or due to a person who has saved a ship or its cargo.

My mother’s home is being demolitioned. My life was demolitoned years ago. Continue reading Salvage

No Control

I am a child of the sixties. I have memories.

I was getting on the school bus, when I was told President Kennedy had been shot. I was climbing those three, tall steps, covered with black, rubber matt, when Miss Brubaker, the driver, was telling us about it. I had the awareness that this was news of consequence. I watched her from my green, vinyl seat, trying to comprehend the meaning of it all. Everything looked the same; the green grass, the outdoor basketball park, the low, white buildings that were our classrooms. On such a dark day the sun was shining bright.

I was told by my teacher, that I must watch the funeral. It was history. Continue reading No Control

Good and Bad ~ Ring the Bell

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Your childhood seemed an endless nightmare./ You learned to surf and ride a horse. Ring the Bell  

You encountered Ann Noreen, a nun with a mental problems./ You received a far better than average education. Ring the Bell

You married too young; into a tumultuous relationship./ You have a beautiful daughter. Ring the Bell Continue reading Good and Bad ~ Ring the Bell

Turtle Trail

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I was traveling down a trail, chasing a turtle ~ the day had just begun; it had promise.

The red clay, rock laden road, led to the beach of my dreams. The water was aqua, warm and inviting. The beach was lined with palms.

The waves were FULL of surfers.

The turtle looked at me, and said, “you better not drop in on me.”

Four Sisters

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We were all nervy with an unspoken anticipation. We were accelerating toward something and we didn’t know what.                                                     Geek Love – Katherine Dunn

It’s safe to say that they were moving towards the grave, these long-gone ancestors of mine. In 1962, speed had a different connotation. It was the pace of a powder blue Impala, crossing long, low bridges, over deep, dark waters, heading south to Orangedale. The glide of a push button Dodge Dart, maneuvering the Trout River Bridge. And a big, black-house Mercury, lumbering through the neighborhood, to pick up Nell, who inched her way down the stairs of a Riverside, garage apartment. Continue reading Four Sisters