Someday Ramblings. Written today.

"Today I dreamt of a girl like me living a more daring, more care-free life. Living with locals, floating down lazy rivers in a big rubber tube like you can at a theme park, only with friends and bottles of vodka spirits resting on your lap. Traveling through Sweden, Switzerland and the like. Camping and leather tramping, using hobo slang and carving peach pits. Riding the rails (but legally ), drinking out of home made mugs made from tin cans, living in the forest for days, having free love in tents at folk festivals, and rejoicing in natural music around camp fires.

No hotels, planes, buses, money, shops, or tourists traps. Just old friends, new friends, myself by myself with my ideal body.

I've been dreaming of writing a proper children's book and personalizing everything I own with creativity like an artist does. Heman magnets, painted purple rubber ducks gracing my bathroom, decoupaged boxes, framed marker mash-ups, mobiles and button strings hanging from my clothes and bags. I've been dreaming of onion strings and dried herbs hanging from the celing of my pantry or a root cellar like Old Ms. Rabbit does in Beatrix Potter's " Benjamin Bunny". I've been thinking of being the eccentric one more obviously and finally nailing my old Chuck Talyors up to a board for display. I've been thinking of making bean pictures like Martha Steward made the one time I watched her show and making found art pieces. Creating my own Daniel Johnston type cartoon characters, wooden and metal folk art hiding in a tangled garden that I don't cultivate when I'm old. A garden like the ones featured on shows like "Weird Homes" feature. I've been thinking of hooking mixed up mats like the Alzheimer patients at the nursing home used to make for my mom, cross stitching and pressing flowers in heavy poetry books on my shelves.

Of turning my old age life into a life of partial solitude with a husband. Or the same life, here of course, but perhaps with kids. Because you have to pick one or the other or you turn out like Astrid's mother in White Oleander or Therza's mother in 'The Unbearable Lightness of Being', unnamed and cruel , crushed under the sacrifice of bearing children that they never should of made. Turned into selfish, evil, trolls of women that anger readers and only serve to raise beautiful girl that live anguished lives. Girls who fall at the feet of bad men who show them attention and superficial affection and good boys that want to save them from themselves but can never undo the damage that has already been done by the mothers that refused to eat, or go out and walked around the parlor naked refusing to close the blinds. Aging women, rebelling against responsibility, angered at long gone exs and bitter because their daughters are more beautiful then they are and that they were never successful at ditching their burdens in life.

And then I think of being the next crazy character here in my town. The next legend like those crazy cat ladies, or junk collectors, or the man who refuses modern society, lives in isolation, and grumps at children. Except I would be cheerful but crazy and interesting. Living happily my own way.

All the greatest people are crazy. Making bird whistles by the rivers and painting canvases on the veranda curled up in a shawl. Writing without periods without paragraphs , without rules, in the first draft at least because of utter inspiration, flow, energy and excitement. Too many words too many thoughts to purge, everthing a metphor for something else the way no one else would ever see it.

Life anyway, my way, is wonderous and rewarding."

My Weekend Camping Trip

So lately I've been grumpy and unable to deal with people and everyday life. So when the semi-nice weather hit this weekend after a week of straight rain I decided to embark on a day of solitude down by the river/pond. I escaped far enough from my home that it was too far to walk back to but remained on my dad's property where I was hidden my trees.

I packed up some TP, trail mix-y food, fruit and granola, warm clothes, a sleeping bag, matches and my camera and video camera along with a book and some paper and I was set! I dug out the fire pit and set up my tent adding to my previous site.

I spent the evening by the fire, chilling and enjoying the absolute freedom and self-reliance.
I did not bring a watch so I had no idea of time. I stayed up until it got dark, went to sleep on the hard ground, listened to the rain hitting the tent, and hoped not hear any scratches at my tent that would spook me.














In the morning after the clouds had cleared the sun burnt through the tent walls with powerful, seemingly magnified rays. I woke up drowsy, stirred only by the inescapable and sudden heat surrounding me. I munched on some granola, cleaned up the tent a bit, and went to read my book on the bank. I laid on my straw mat and listened to the sea gulls splish-splash in the pond screeching at each other and sailing around pond together like little sail boats afloat in a city fountain.

Hiding behind the high stalks of yellow rod I felt like a mother by the pool with her children not far away, splashing each other and playing games of Marko Polo.
Later they jump and flip in the pool of fresh water yelling for me to "watch, watch!" at moments of brief remembrance of my quiet, still, existence.