takes a truckload of faith to get by

well, it's official: i'm homeless.

i avoided it for a year. but now it can no longer be. 

not the same of course, as those living on the street - really homeless. my god. i have not only my family's house to crash at but i also have my car. still, though, it's unnerving.

i could be living somewhere else i suppose. i could have watched the ads, saved up some money, moved into a room in someone's house yet again. but i decided not to. i'm worn out from it; not just the moving but the acclimating to the people, their habits and peculiarities. which is putting it nicely on my part.

just tired of it. not bad mood tired, just weary. sitting here in a corner of amy's sweet little kitchen i can hear jake playing guitar and singing downstairs, down the break-a-leg steep stairs to the basement where he's set up his bed and, between the two of us, seven guitars. jake's gotten good those years spent in the army practicing; seems another lifetime when he lived with cat and amy in idaho and once, while visiting i taught him some chords and the minor pentatonic scale. i enjoy taking this initial credit though jake's far surpassed anything i could have taught him. he's natural. he's very good.

so here, our little family. i got here before dinner and brought chicken and potato salad and some chips, a picnic meal though we ate it at the kitchen table since the rain was once again pelting down. j and me, that is, nobody else was ready to eat. i scooted into the corner and j wanted a chair next to me so he moved the dehumidifier out of the way, shoved the table a bit, and pushed his chair up next to mine. we ate and read the books i'd brought from the library. sweet, good-times books. 

in the driveway a fourteen foot u-haul unloaded now, with the very last of all the idaho stuff. this was their last trip, gathering jake's things and some of their own and, apparently, a tote or two of mine from a couple of years ago when i cleaned out my studio and stuff with them in yet another u-haul. lord. moving, moving. too much. maybe we're settled here for awhile. i hope so. it's teeny small but we know how to move around each other.

company in the living room, a young woman i think i've met, who's come for jake. already, in just a couple of weeks, the girls know where to find him. it's good to have him back safe and sound. four years was a long time with worry on my mind.

so here, this family, all connected to cat in some way. what a thing of beauty, all of us loose jointed and agile, able to move fast and hard when we have to which has been a great deal of the time. 

but now it'll chill. so many pasts put to rest; both long hauls iraq and idaho, and me with my own.

summer will finally arrive and the grass will grow in the yard whenever the sun finally warms the seed, and we'll sit outside with the guitars and the river just down the road. j will continue to grow up too fast for my liking but i will, as i've learned, keep all those types of things i know to myself. i've taught them what i know about scanning a horizon. they no longer need me to remind them.

see you next time,

wagons, ho!

while driving out to take another look at the flatbed trailer that may soon serve as the foundation for my dwelling, cat engages me in a conversation about "the infinite loop" we live in. we've had this conversation before but we expand on it a bit. it's interesting.

and if so, if there is some sort of infinite loop we're engaged in, then i can clearly see parts of mine: cat says each year at this time i threaten to sell my car and he's right except it's only been two years i've said so. other things, too, i'm sure, some of which i track and others i don't. but i have the sense of it all most the time.

i realized today, while thinking and writing about the small little house i'm going to build, that it resembles a covered wagon. this is the obvious snake lying in wait to bite.

a wagon! a pioneer wagon, a gypsy wagon! yay!!!!

lord that's funny. all those years and years of reading the books and journals of the pioneer women. then obsidian. now this. 

the women who walked and birthed and buried their babies on the Trail that still runs through my town. 

keep you posted and see you next time,


a new day dawning

"funny how things never turn out the way we plan,
the only thing we knew for sure about henry porter
is that is name wasn't henry porter."

brownsville girl, dylan & shepherd

sharp turn in the road. but man, i wouldn't have considered it without being forced. this morning, looking out over the backyard of this place i've lived for over a year, i'm glad to be leaving. my god. what a lot of work to do. and there's something very strange about this place and it's always been the case - it's literally two steps forward and one back. someone haunts it with a mean spirit and the owner allows him to stay. they continue to work in the same sad sync of all their years being married; she pushes and he pulls. 

a lot got done. it isn't nearly the disaster area it was when i arrived. but she spent every single cent of her money until there was nothing left to even pay her bills. so she had to get bailed out by her daughters and they've decided to sell it. for the best, certainly. but i was surprised to hear about the plans weeks after they'd been made; she lacked the courage to tell me. how really silly is that.

it wasn't the realization of suddenly being without a place to live, it was the shock of suddenly having dozens of hours a month with nothing to do that forced me to take the sharp turn. what do i do now? cat says that when i told him on the phone he thought sweet! guess he has more vision than i do.

last week when i first found out i went through all my things. i didn't have much anymore but it was still a lot - about ten bags of stuff to the goodwill and a huge amount of paper to the recycling. but now i can fit my stuff into the trunk of my car except for five totes and my guitars. and the five totes are easy: seasonal clothes, photographs, sewing, writing, writing, writing...

found a man on craigslist with a flatbed trailer for trade; he wants guitar lessons for his grandson. went and looked at the trailer and it seems as though it will work to build a little house on. cat and i will do that and i will park it in his driveway until it sells. we could be onto something mighty fine with this.

and the dozens of hours... well, i went to the library yesterday and started researching my summer reading. i'll choose the authors and read the books again and study them and write a curriculum for learning. i can teach. i've wanted to do this for a really long time. and now i have the time.

and i'll write! now that i'm here, where i wanted for so long to be, it's time to do it. funny, strange road i took to get here but nevertheless, i've arrived.

went back to the doctor yesterday and my blood pressure is down from raging to normal. taking the meds at least for now. will reconsider at the end of summer. see how everything goes.

see you next time,

ok i'm breaking my own heart here

i don't do this very often but every now and then i read something i have written and think my god that's good.

once i read an interview with dwight yoakum. and he said how he's in love with his own voice. and even though it sounds so arrogant i can understand it.

here's a link to two short essays i wrote over the period of five or so years, both titled "spring break."

i think there may be information there for you. you will also notice a sentence that could be omitted or changed but probably won't be since even though i have no qualms about editing anything years and years later, this particular sentence will probably remain as it is since i live in hope.


(i thought quite possibly that i would do a little dance with despair today. then i read my essays and now there's no fucking way. get thee behind me satan. you fucker ;)


ps this email will be posted at my current blog called "takes a truckload of faith to get by" which is short on posts, the last being "how to make an instant egg sandwich" and the handful before that all about j...


how to make a fast and perfect egg salad sandwich

peel hard cooked egg.

insert between 2 pieces of bread.

with palm of hand push down on top piece of bread to smash egg.

cut sandwich in half. 


(my observation of a 28 year old father in big hurry to get some food into his 5 year old son before his low blood sugar induces a meltdown).

and who says our youth are lacking? no. couldn't have been you. right? wasn't you, right? 

cool. didn't think so ;)