Camping!

I went camping from last Thursday til yesterday.  It wasn't RV style-we roughed it.  The fanciest things we had were the fold down back seat of the van to sleep on and a small, portable, Coleman stove.  There were no porta potties and no trash receptacles, we had to use trash bags to dispose of our trash.  It was pretty primitive as far as camping goes.  But aside from several backpackers on Saturday, it was nearly silent.  I would sit or lie and listen for the different bird calls.  There's a pair of crows that bicker back and forth and several I couldn't identify.  Truth be told, the crows were the only ones I identified.  Oh! And I saw a pair of small falcons too!

A short ways from the campsite is a beautiful creek going under a bridge and coming out of the other side to flow over huge stones that have been eroded for who knows how many thousands of years.  The erosion looks like tiny steps on the rocks slanted at an angle.  We played a game called stick races: you place a stick or leaf in a spot on the creek where it cannot be immediately swept away but which can eventually be swept into the stream.  I found myself mesmerized as I followed the progress of my little twig hoping it would get swept into the stream before my ex's did.  If it gets stuck for too long or permanently stuck... disqualified! 

And a little sunburn and a lot of bugs!  There were mosquitoes, small black ants, large black ants, noseeums, fireflies and bees of various sorts.  There was even a beetle with a metallic outer wing in orangish pinkish greenish blue.  Yeah, like that made sense.  I got bit up by bugs in spite of using skin so soft, or else the sun gave me a rash (like my ex claims), or both.  I think it's a mixture of bug bites and maybe contact dermatitis from a plant.  At least it didn't get on my butt!

There were short walks.  My ex knows those woods like the back of his hand so he took me into the woods to see where the small stream that comes out of the mountain meets up with the main creek.  Always always take a walking stick with you!  My ex has navigated steep inclines using two sticks (two-stickin it he says) like they were two extra legs.  I tried it once but you really have to have some strength anyhow.

Anyhow, we had a great time and it was so peaceful.  As long as it remains a little known secret, it will stay that way.

Suffer In Silence

My ex surfs YouTube, seeking heart rending songs.
He finds a few.
I hear the tremble in his voice as he barely sings along-he stifles his passion to make it manageable.
I hear all this and remain silent.
I cry quietly, politely,
with my back turned so we don't have to acknowledge the obvious vulnerability that screams from our souls.
We suffer in silence because we fear the rain and the flood should one or both of us speak.

A Year To The Day

It's been a year to the day since Sage reached the clearing at the end of the path.  I miss him and Dusty so much.  I need them and I can't have them.

Swoopers and Bashers

I have a couple really bad writing habits.
One of them is editing as I go along and making too many changes as I go along.  Why risk the heartache of all that hard work being for naught if big chunks need to be edited out when the book is finished?

In my defense, Kurt Vonnegut said there are two types of writers: swoopers and bashers.  Swoopers go in like a storm and write the whole thing then make changes later.  Bashers hammer it out word by word, sentence by sentence, paragraph by paragraph, and chapter by chapter, and edit as they go along.

I guess that makes me a basher, like Kurt Vonnegut.  He said most men are bashers and most women are swoopers.  Maybe someone aught to look into that.  Anyhow, I've bashed out about 8 pages, but some good ideas are begining to surface. :-D

How Dry I Am

Me and my big mouth.  Here I had to shoot my mouth off about writing a book and I can't conjure up more than three pages so far.  I keep asking myself, "How are you going to churn out something novel sized from this?"

I decided I really suck at writing descriptions of scenery unless it's to set a dramatic scene.  I have a difficult time writing about the nondescript hospital waiting rooms, different types of trees, whether or not there are hills, etc. 

But for something to be a book it has to have 'filler'.  It's not all action, inner dialogue and dialogue.  It's a lot easier when there's a writing buddy, like a role play.

Guess I'm just spoiled. 

I've spent the last few days reading an old role play from four or so years ago and I'm feeling very nostalgic.  I'm also wondering how I can ever live up to that again.  It was some of my best writing!  My main character was pretty stereotypical in many ways but then he'd turn around and do something surprising.  Then there was the creepy character who was fun to write and had different dimensions.  I was going to use them for this 'book' I'm trying to write but I've changed my mind.  I'm saving them for something better and renaming the current characters.

I | Alive

when the day can coalesce without crowding,
when the mind can wander, simpatico, with it’s companion soul
when the feeling is mutual in being, becoming
when the moment arrives,
I, Alive
am free.