my fridge feels sheepish, bemoaning it's job of storing my empty water bottles. they aren't going into the trash, until i find myself less to be under the influence of conspiracy. hoarding or collecting provides me with a sense of stability. from what i'm not so sure, except i'm concerned about being stuck without water. all of that is beside the point in a matter of the heart and mind i feel free enough to function outside of worry.
last night i picked up the gum thief, it's author douglas coupland, i take after neither his characters roger or bethany. i am not a middle aged divorced man nor a young goth girl, both staple employees. i'll miss the second book club gathering all on account of green drinks, but thought i'd read and gather my ideas regardless.
i have begun making new work, new art. back in the business of being joanie appleseed planting my seeds, growing my forest of trees. it has been difficult getting back into creating and will blame my walled abilities on the holidays.
i successfully cleaned my treehouse but have found that the art studio disappeared in the process. living and working in the same location has got to be an either or sort of thing, 595 sq. ft. is a little less space than what i'd like for the future of both my treehouse and my studio. nonetheless the work of art has got to be picked up again or else i'll lose it all together.
the contact tree is still a work in progress and favors in my minds eye the beehive tree i created a little over a year ago. the contact tree reminds me of recess and practice. the recess and practice of relating, in a context of contact and connecting with the act of creating art. and the act of socializing with fellow artists, writers, and the family, friends surrounding me. contact is a necessary part of living and without a tree's contact with the dirt, air, sun, and surrounding trees it would die. just as i might slowly die, alone.
***my childhood imagination has grown from being innocent and playful, to fear and paranoia. the fear takes advantage of me in the darkness, even as the break of daylight filters through early morning breezes. i have one fear that beckons often now. it is funny how human depravity is cyclical, never ending. as i have apparently gotten older and free, so have i gained more responsibility. i fear as i am asleep that the sheriff parked outside my home will find that i'm not a resident of georgia but, have tennessee car tags. i invision a redneck uniform pouncing on the opportunity to harass a girl with no direction but, to lie and pronounce that she's only housesitting. a dreadful equation of events proceed.
there are still others, blankets or drifts of fears that never come to fruition but, place themselves upon my ignorant fortress. over the last thanksgiving holiday i was walking up to the door of my home in the darkness of night. as i approach the doorknob to safety, the growling noise of an unknown animal approaches. i could have been torn to shreds by whatever it was but, i quickly slammed the door open and shut hard behind me. to follow me into my dreams as well. i awoke to the sounds of babies crying, shaking off sleep i investigated the sound closer and came to realize that i was listening to the cries of coyotes. to follow me as i am driving home on the one mile stretch of highway, approaching the speed of fifty, a animal looking more like a small deer flying through the field on my left comes darting out into the street. drawing closer in speed my headlights illuminate a coyote. i was driving quickly enough but, had slowed cautiously and still managed to catch the hind leg and tail of the coyote. amist the sound of my heart racing i decided then and there, though feeling quite vunerable, to carry a flashlight from my car to my doorstep. i envisioned the coyote healing and seeking its revenge. i'd like to be able to see in the dark, face my fear head on.
i have thought of myself at times to be intelligent. i take for granted that in the daylight i am able to see and administer a sense of judgement between reality and my own imagination. i will list yet, strike my fears for i am a fictional character that has no shame, no reputation to uphold.
the darkness is too great to be afraid of all of the time. my fear of darkness is subtle and does not take refuge in horror. for many people including myself, the fear of darkness implies a slight physcological upheavel, disorder and confusion. i have felt that the darkness bites at my heels or pinches my neck, an irritating self imposed nag.
***written over ten years ago...
today i am not alone, nor do my fears bite at me like they used to. i am now at a time in my life that any and all responsibility is great, and still provides a sense of freedom but, with little fear. what is great and wonderful and beautiful is more, inside my heart and mind.