Strawberry Roads and a Lil' Joe....

That's a great song.

I'm going to learn to play it on my guitar.
I have to learn a song before I leave for New Hampshire. I made that promise to myself, but it's not going so well because... because... I guess I'm just not making time for it.
I have a new peanut butter and jelly in my life, and he takes up a lot of my time. Mind you, I'm not complaining, we choose to spend that time together. That's how I likes it!
I don't mind putting other things on the back burner, to have true living and connected moments with someone I love.
That's right my friends, I do believe I'm in love. It's been some time, but I'll be a monkey's uncle if this man isn't the pajamas to my cat, and the knees to my bees.

But that's another story.
I have things I want to say.
There are things that need to be said.
There are things that are...
There are things.

I'm remodeling a house with two outstanding women and a random downpour of dudes with goatees that drink too many rockstars.
My cousin is pregnant with twins.
My Pappy bought a motorcycle.
I sewed my Momma's garden for Mothers Day.
I got rear ended on the way to the farm, and the girl that hit me got in another accident a few hours later.
I love Otis Redding.
I miss my friend Kraig in Tennessee, I was trying so hard to get there, but perhaps I didn't have the best of intentions.
A love of a friend is hiking the PCT for 5 months, I am praying for her safety, and hope good energy from all goes to her.
I'm going to build a cabin on the farm with my Jonny's help.
I hurt someone that said they loved me. And they aren't nice to me anymore. But I tried to do everything right. Maybe that was my first mistake?
My niece and nephew light up my life.... almost as much as my big Sister does.
I hope you have a lovely day.
I think you are very attractive.
Oh yeah.
And I'm broke.
But it seems to be working out pretty well so far.

Ruvvies.

TORPEDO LEVELERS AND A BRAND SPANKIN NEW PRESIDENT...

Ahoy fellow American Friendships.
Or Ahoy blog page that I have so intentionally ignored for a few months. I have been expressing my thoughts more creatively and on a direct social level, instead of the usual introspective memoirs.

Which means, I've been busy, a new kind of busy..... NO.... not that kind, well maybe a little bit... OK, not at all, but I've got some things in the works. Enough about my love life, let's talk about something with substance... like.... drumroll please....
BARACK OBAMA!!!
Wooooohooo!

I was working at one of my fourteen jobs on election night, the job that requires me to serve alcohol to a massive amount of alcohol dependent Portlanders, that I love dearly, but for crying out loud, need to find a hobby that doesn't take such a toll on the liver. But who am I to judge? Anywho, the reason for my childish excitement, (besides the fact that I have ADHD), is not because I think everything is solved now, and our nation will now unite in to a harmonious community relieving ourselves of industrial revolution attachments and developments, or that we are now going to all get along, and any trace of racism, sexism, or class wars will now be but a vapor and fallen tribulation of the past. Or even for that matter, that now, finally, children will be raised in schools where they are taught how to grow food, create shelter, and trade goods in order to create sustainability within their own ecosystems... Or even that we, as a whole, will develop a human sense of priority among our international cohorts, and there will be a liberation of all those who are oppressed, held captive, or stuck in a set of laws that create boundaries around their need and god (or what have you) given right to share, think, feel, and be pro-active about whatever lights or plays their inner music. Or that factory farms and industrial raised "food" will all be taken down, step by step, and we will fall in to a trade system once so wisely used involving wild game, handmade goods, and for the love of God (or what have you), wooden...educational...basic...handmade.... toys. STORYTELLING WILL COME BACK TO LIFE! OUR CHILDREN WILL HELP WITH THE DAILY CHORES! THE OCEANS WILL BE CLEAN! ALL SPECIES WILL HAVE A SAFE ENVIRONMENT TO ONCE AGAIN CREATE A FOOD CHAIN THAT ISN'T INFLUENCED BY OUR NEED FOR MORE MORE MORE MORE!!! THREE CAR GARAGES WILL BE USED TRANSFORMED IN TO WORKSHOPS, LIVING QUARTERS, MANGERS, AND EVERYONE WILL LIVE CLOSE ENOUGH TO WORK TO BIKE OR WALK! WOMEN WILL BE ONLY ALLOWED TO WEAR DRESSES, AND MEN CAN HAVE THREE WIVES!!!!

ok... that last part is a joke.. I was getting a little ahead of myself. Although, a dress wouldn't hurt me once in a while, it would just get in the way when I'm crawling under the house, and building the coolest tree house ever.

No, I understand that this historic moment, where the first black president was elected, does not mean these ideals and values, and pipe dreams of my own will all surface in my lifetime. I know that some things have come too far, to go back to how they were before the revolution. And that is okay, it's my pipe dream, and I'm quite fond of it... And it gives me a lot of things to daydream about, and take part in in the way I live my life, and the things that I choose to learn, and how I hold myself within my own community. The challenges that I accept, and the ones that I pass on in honor of my own ability, and lack of such in larger things. I prefer to work on the small scale, and only when I feel confident enough, then will I start thinking about how I can effect change on the other side of the world. (Although good thoughts, and positive energy is a constant impact that is powerful on a large scale, therein I effect change by how I think, and what I feel and release)... as it is for all of us.
So think good thoughts for me dammit... Or I will not let you play in the tree house.

Um... so, however, about Obama. I think this is a big step for us. For the first time in my life I felt good about being an American, or titling myself as such. For the first time, I was proud of the majority voters, and I was inspired by the things that our future president said. I want him to know that I will be one of those who does not forget that it is a constant force of work and progress to grow as a country, and to communicate among one another in order to spread peace and knowledge, and create change in a scarred and understimulated population.

I'll have to write more later... But I love my class, so much I can't believe it. I am a sponge for learning right now, completely exhausted, but a sponge nonetheless.
I just had a flashback to a Seinfeld episode.... HA HA HA HA.... oh that Elaine, she cracks my shit up.

Love and Blessings,
and kisses and such,
Virginia

Stop Diablo Canyon

I sit here, in my rocking chair, in my wonderful sanctuary of a room, thinking about the last two days.
I went to the Jackson Browne concert last night. I went with my one ticket, armored with the strong woman "I can go stag and be fine with it", mentality that I have carried on a handful of occasions. There's nothing wrong with going to a movie, a benefit, a play, or a concert by yourself... And I've done it before, so no big deal, right? Well, I was partially right. I have been so jazzed about seeing Jackson live again, that I could give a monkey's uncle whether I was accompanied by anyone. In fact, I'd rather go alone, because I don't know anyone besides my Papa that would celebrate it more. Perhaps that was where the emotions got cornered in. The last time I saw Jackson Browne was when I surprised my Dad with tickets for his 50th birthday.
That's another story. But Jackson Browne's music and lyrics are very close to my heart, and he will always be one of those top 5 singer/songwriters that can break, and melt my heart in the same song.
I thoroughly enjoyed the show, and chatted with other fans sitting near me about previous concerts, how we love Jackson, and all that yummy stuff.
Afterwards, I took a little pity party walk around downtown Portland, in my favorite cowboy boots, my nice jeans, and my long black dress coat.... hey, you know I had to dress up, it's not every day that I take myself out on a nice date.
It was beautiful night, and I was glad to be alone with my thoughts, singing softly to myself the music still in my head from the show.
I wandered in to Hubers, Portland's oldest restaurant, to try one of their world famous Spanish coffee's for the first time. It was a splendid treat, and a nice atmosphere, I felt like I was in the shining, and it was perfect suited for the prior nights happenings. I sat with my crossword from earlier in the day, and embraced all the quiet chatter and laughter from the couples and small groups still left in the bar from the nights dinner rush.
I ended up conversing with an older man, and is son, (about my age), who had just come from the concert as well, and then was given crossword support by a debonair man in his late 70's and his younger partner, both darling in the most unconventional and old-fashioned ways... together we finished the cross word, and I felt accomplished in my little moment of glory.
I then bummed a cigarette from my lovely bartender, Leo, and went outside for some "not so fresh" air... That was when Vicki and Max walked by. Vicki is a long time vendor for street roots. Max is her little dog, and I used to see them a lot more often down at the office. I haven't been down there since I moved back home, and it was really refreshing to see her and Max. She was so dear to me, and handed me a card with a dove on it that read "ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE TO THOSE WHO BELIEVE... MARK 8:23" "EXPECT A MIRACLE"
She is so wonderful, always smiling, always warm and kind, and one of the hardest workers I've ever met. I tell you what, I would bet 700 billion dollars that Max is one of the most loved, and most content and fulfilled dogs in this world.
And that's all I have to say about that.
Peace and num nums...
Virginia

Fear and Loathing in NE Portland Metro

I watched the movie Gonzo last night.
My phenomonal human being of a housemate, Jude, came along, and we seriously got down on some popcorn. I figured we could have dropped some acid and brought a couple of fifths along in honor of the late Hunter S. Thompson, but then we might not get the full intensity of the documentary.
You have to hand it to him... he was passionate, he was a bionic, fully functioning addict, and he was passionate... He walked the talk, and he composed himself in a manner that was somehow an expression of the anger he had towards the development of classism, racism, and greed.
He gave a damn, enough to share it with others.... It's like he had a little jar of ink... totally full, sitting there... And he knew every fucking thing about that ink, he knew it so well, and he had a million different ways to describe it, he knew it backwards, the taste, smell, sensation on your skin, every damn thing about the ink, and others knew of the inks existence, but didn't really know how to acknowledge it, or how to ask permission to look at it or touch it, and were afraid to tell other people that they desired to see and touch, or maybe even sip on the ink... So they just kept pretending like they weren't interested..

So then Hunter took that bottle of ink, blew the lid off with most likely a firearm, and dumped the ink all over ground, and on top of the highest hill, so that everyone would start to see little bits of it spilling past... they could see a glimpse of what they desired to talk about or taste, but they still didnt' share with others about their own excitement or passions, or about the feelings they were having about this new substance that had appeared. They just looked up the hill at Hunter and smiled...
And then they went in their rooms, packed their shit in to a bag, and took off in search of where this ink might be headed... It was better than bullshitting with their folks, and all the narrow minded jerkoffs that didnt' know any better that they blah blahed with on a daily fuckin basis.

Hunter didn't know the formula for the ink, and he didn't even know if the ink should exist, or if it was a toxic substance created out of possession and greed that formed in to a democracy... of fat lifeless bloodsuckers..

Ok, yikes, I'm going to backtrack a bit, I started this entry tonight becasue I was feeling inspired, and delighted to be around people whom I value so much, and people whom I value their values so much.
As well as, it's nice to find harmony within severe differences of myself and people whom I don't find common heart strings with.

I love my Mother for being who she is... for wanting to take care of everyone else, and is the rock of a large family for compassion, shelter, and words of caring and love. I love that my Mom and I are not similar, and that we are finding a harmony in our relationship... Finding peace among broken pieces, and walking that course when daughters become women in a world unlike their Mother's when they were in their saturn return (yay Tina!)

I love my new friend Jude, for demonstrating strength, agility, balanced living, and inspiration to so many others who look up to her, especially young women who are told and shown that they aren't meant to achieve in such a way. She doesn't even know that she is constantly living the life of a role model, and that's part of what makes her shine...

I love my sister for no matter what, even when I'm crazy busy and have lost my phone for the 97th time, and haven't called her back in weeks, still somehow finds a way to let me know that she just thinks I'm beautiful and misses me... She finds time to break and melt my heart. I love her so much, it breaks because she's not next door, but it melts because her smile and thoughts reach across the world, no matter where we are, or where we will be tomorrow.

I love my dearest friend Neil, who will never know how perfectly disastrously beautiful he is. I desire to be in his company because of the truest form of human he is, and how it challenges my present existence. How he allows me to be a child, and facilitates my neivity in ways that become opportunities for growth and the unveiling of social justice issues. His patience is an expression of his love, at least that's how I interpret it. He let's me stay 20 percent flighty, yet grounds me by the simplist of comments, in a way that only a kindred spirit could. His soul is emminently powerful and will forever be shadowed by nothing but the most ancient of trees...

I love my darling girl Tina at the Gypsy Cafe, as well as the other women there, but Tina has made efforts lately to communicate with me, and I find myself desiring to communicate back, which is unusual for me. I am the classic case of "Hey whatcha been up to?? Gotta go, let's hang some time..." and then never do, because what I really meant to say was, "Hey, you don't light my fire, and you don't care about anything I've done since 1998, so let's just drift, and let the tides decide if we should meet again."
But with this group of women, and with Tina, I am verifiably interested in what she has to say, and what she's getting in to. It all goes back to that value system. She is good for the Earth, and she is full of love and joy, and breeds and shares nothing but words of personal growth, eternal wisdom, and youthful and physical embracement of the elements and the sexuality of this ancient world. I love her like I love the way how Maggie's brow is warm and soft after a long nap, and how a baby watches and giggles at their older sibling when they do silly things, and how cute newborn peppers are when they start to bud, and how the lakes and ponds freeze over at 1000 acres during the winter, and we can walk for what seems like forever in to an unknown forest on ice.

I love you all like Jimmy Buffet likes Margaritas...
fins to the left... fins to the right...
Night Night.
.....aaaaaaaa

Noche, Bigfoot, and Pizza on the floor.

It's been a while since my last blog.
I finished up my two weeks at the gypsy cafe with an open invitation to return, and a sad farewell. I was leaving women that I had known less than a month, but we spoke and breathed as if we'd known eachother distantly for years.... a familiarity in the atmosphere that I will always remember.
Maggie and I said our goodbyes to Noche. We knew he had been sick the last few days that we were there. He was 14, and had lived a very full and free existence, his eyes were full of life, but the kind of life that is ready to leave this place. It was hard to say goodbye to him, but I knew it wasn't permanent. He passed about a week later, and my heart goes out to Tina, he was her companion and soul mate, and I know she is heart sick. Her and Barb placed Noche near the garden we built, just outside her door. I love you Tina, Noch will look and watch over you now, as your gaurdian, as you did him during his time here.

I left the cafe, and took off for california. Stopped by a farm in the middle of nowhere, and bought a peach from the most beautiful 80 year old woman I've ever seen.... I'm telling you, farming keeps you young, either that or she is hiding the fountain of youth on their property somewheres.
I also stopped by a place where they sell burlwood, as well as a large collection of individually unique pieces of burl furniture, clocks, decorations, etc... .the most beautiful functional art pieces I've ever seen. They also had ginormous tree houses that looked like they belonged in Alice in Wonderland and Swiss Family Robinson... I'd live in that shit, that's for damn sure.

Mags and I got in to the redwoods a little later than we would have liked, and it was starting to get dark... So being that niether of us had any clue where we were, we went to where we felt the safest, and camped at a pretty standard and accessible, somewhat populated campground/state park. We still had a large spot all our own, and a private view in the morning, but close enough to others to feel a bit more grounded.

We went in to stout grove and the back road to crescent city in the morning. It was nice because we headed out so early that the fog and mist were there the whole time we were in the woods. AMAZING.

We drove up the coast and stopped at a few different spots... I was planning on heading to Nevada from the redwoods, but smarty pants here left her bike and the Gypsy Cafe, so the girls agreed to bring it to Coquille on tuesday, which is near the coast, and I would meet them there, at the Cob Cottage to pick up the hooptie.

This way, I got to visit cob cottage, and see the ladies again, so it was a double whammy. The pictures of the property in Coquille don't even touch on, whisper at, or breeze past the intense beauty and sanctity of this place. I continue to be fascinated by what people create with their minds, and what their minds instruct their hands to do... That subtle transition, that faint intimacy of communication between your imagination and your phsyical actions, what your minds eye can emit to your senses and from there, sculpt on to paper, in to words, or in to three dimensional structures, just by the relationship between the body and mind..... unbelieveable, I feel like that is a pretty safe and fairly attainable yet challenging goal, to keep up that level of intimate language between my mind and body, and not cut off that love affair. And also, not to question or talk my mind out of things because my body is too tired to listen....
HA HA HA.... what a wonderful imagery that is in my head right now....
What's in yours? You should draw a picture of it!!!! Right now!!! Use colors! Only if you want to!

I'll write more later. I want to go draw a picture too.... and snuggle with my snoop doggy doggggggg.....

RACCOONS IN MY TENT.

FENDER GUITARS AND SIA’S INNER VOICE

I took a day off and went to Crater Lake yesterday.
I drove through a town called White City… as you’re driving in to town there is a large maple sign that reads in large, white letters… “WHITE CITY… THE BEST PLACE TO LIVE.”
Uh huh…. Interesting slogan. White City is a hop skip and a jump from the sprawling town of WEED… I had to stop and take a picture with the exit sign for that one, just for my brother.
Once I got in to Crater Lake park, there is a seven mile drive almost all uphill, windy and on a day like that, would not be much fun of a walk. I drove past a PCT hiker, did a loop back and stopped to give him a ride to the top. Being the bit of a chicken that I am, I circled back three times to get a good look at his face and gear before I finally offered him a ride. I figured I had to continue on the circle of love, since I had so many people give me rides on my way back from our hike earlier this year.
His name was Matt, and he was a very nice guy, he was hiking the trail alone, which is so out of my range of strength, I can’t begin to describe how much I look up to people who can do it like that.

I also ran in to a girl that I played softball with years ago. I recognized her parents at first… They were constant fixtures in the bleachers at all the games, and I remember her Momma keeping score for us quite frequently. None of them were very pleasant with me when I approached them to say hi and do a quick catch up on how life was going for her and so on and so forth… but maybe I just walked in at a bad time.
Either way, I enjoyed my visit to the lake, and the surprising comfort in a familiar face.
But I’ve always been kind a sucker for nostalgia… so there it is.

I then headed down highway 62 for about an hour and met up with my grandparents in Klamath Falls, Oregon. They are so cute, they have been married for 56 years, and look like a million dollars. After dinner I walked Mags to the nearby safeway and got some foor for the feast I’m making for everyone on Sunday, (my last day ☹ )

The safeway was very entertaining, and I liked the eclectic mix of townies… My favorite was an older, very attractive gentlemen darning Winnie the pooh sweatpants, a tazmanian devil t shirt, and a very large black leather fanny pack… I must say, if you’re gonna go for it, you might as well go all the way… And he nailed that outfit like he’d been planning it for weeks.
Bravo my friend…. Bravo.

We went to dinner at John and Dana’s tonight. John (Page) is an amazing custom furniture and guitar artist. He worked for fender for over 20 years, and now is building his own guitars and functional art out of his home and shop here in wolf creek. He is the one that makes the famous “Devil’s Tears” salsa.. I wanted to take some home so bad that they invited us for dinner tonight so we could watch and help him make it, and take some back with us.
Myshkin jammed on some of his amazingly detailed and brilliant electric guitars, and we all danced and caroused away the night.

We came home and Tina and I put on my favorite CD, and she helped me with a tarot reading… Inner Voice…… Inner Voice…. Inner Silence…

Sia’s song “Broken Biscuit”
Listen to that song… the lyrics are… well, they just are.

LOVE YOU ALL!!!! ☺
LOVE AND HUGS AND BIG FAT SLOBBER KISSES*.
*from Maggie.


TODAY August 6, 2008

Yesterday we weeded the neighbor lady’s garden… She’s pushin 90 and her garden looks like it’s on its way out too… However, we tore through that stuff, and she has herself some ripe harvest. We took all the fresh compost back to the café property because we needed some greens in our pile…

We went down ot Jeanie’s in grants pass again last night….
At the 55 and over trailor park…
Four of us girls completely cleaned up an 80 year old oak tree that had been cut down… but left in such a giant pile, and in such a mess, that we had to cut up the rest and de-terd all the branches… While being sexually harassed by jeanie’s estranged perverted of an old man husband…. Bleh… Can you tell he got to me? Anyway, after that we came home, drank some wine and jammed… Myshkin sang a song about trailor parks, the slimy and creepy men that live there, all of the under three pound dogs, and the vast excess of tarps… Long story, but very funny.

This morning we covered up all the straw bales and the exposed cob because there was call for a thunder/rain storm this afternoon.

A FEW GOOD WOMEN

The last few days have been exceptional. Every day is, but these last few were so foreign to me, as the last week has been entirely. The experiences I've been sharing here on this land, and on the surround earth have bloomed a piece of me that has been submersed till now. Yesterday started with a low dose of energy. There were a new batch of people here from the concert, who had stayed overnight and wanted to help on Myshkin's house. We had a new dog introduced to the pack of three, and many small fights emerged from his presence. He's a sweet dog, but violent by nature, and each dog had their own quarrel with him. Things calmed down by the second day, and we learned to keep an eye on things. The cob house is coming up so quick, it's really amazing to see the progress daily.

Every meal has been shared with a new community of people, food from the garden, and spirits from local sources. Pappy and I drove Margie home to grants pass last night, and I stopped to sit outside a coffee shop where there were a sleu of teenagers playing music and showing off their arm band tattoos to one another. I felt completly out of place, but absolutely comfortable and entertained at the same time.

Tina and I went to Ashland today to deliver the newspapers to the post office (Barb and Tina run a local/inernational women's ecological radical newspaper). We had lunch and brews at a local eatery, and walked around town and did some second hand shopping. I found, or I should say, it found me.... an old pendleton wool riding hat... It's perfect fit, perfect color, and I know I'll have it forever. We then took the long road back to the valley...

such a magnificent drive. Through Jacksonville, the Applegate Valley, and along the Rogue River. The skies were cloudy and smokey from the California fires, but it put a soft dampness in the air that was suprisingly calming. We drove through the big marijuana growing town of Williams, and in to Graci ... a small stop for the rafters of the Rogue River.

We took the one lane road back to the land, but not before we stopped in below the suspension bridge and dipped in to the river. the sun was just going down, and the bats were dancing aroung us and in the river, it was a moment I will remember for a very long time. I wont' try to describe it, but I felt as if I was invited there personally by the river and the surrounding mountains.... the bats and I together were celebrating and thanking mother earth for it's bounty of elements, and it's strength in the struggle to survive our bearance on her body.

We came home to a fresh cooked dinner by Myshkin and Brenin... Put on the kings of convenience, smoked some num nums.... and laughed and shared until just about half an hour ago, when Mags and I hit the hay.

LIFE IS GOOD.
LIFE IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU WERE TOO BUSY MAKING PLANS.
LIFE....
LIFE..
IS NOW.
AND NOW.
AND I'M GLAD YOU ARE HERE.

REMEMBER THE ABRAHAMS.
VIRGINIA.