Happy Happy Gus

Gus is a happy betta this morning. Gus has new clean water in a clean bowl. Gus is wagging his fins and tail happily. Gus even smiles at me when he comes up for air. I feel like a good little boy for figuring out what Gus needed before told me by turning upside down.

Today I started revising one of my short stories. Bit of a tough slog, that, but I got the first couple of pages down, and that's a start. My instinct is that I've only just begun to climb this hill of fiction writing, though I've done it off and on, mostly off, for close to ... uh, I'd rather not say how many years. I remember a similar slog when learning to play an instrument. It was effortless to hear the music in my head, I just needed years of study and practice to figure out how to make it come out of my hands as well. And I have ideas for stories, even novels. The trick is to discover the way to make it come out on paper in ways that will grip a reader and make them not want to let go even when it ends.

All of this is on my mind because I spent much of this afternoon reading advice from writers and editors and publishers and such about how to write well and market the result. Ah, I always did like Kindergarten. I always preferred to stand at the bottom of the slide and see if I could climb up its slick surface. Way too easy to just climb the stairs in back and slide down, fer cryin' out loud.

For those doublessly not interested, the second exercise paragraph will have to wait until I convert it from open source to Microsoft's proprietary doc format, which I may never do now, as I'm absurdly, irrationally mad at Microsoft for not supporting Open Office docs natively when you open Word. C'mon Redmond. You guys should be way better than that.

Liberation Road

Greed has imprisoned us. United we can liberate ourselves!

Despite the rain, the community garden is progressing quickly. Huge boxes have been built and I'm curious how they're going to be used. Compost? Raised bed gardens? Coffins for giants? Time will tell.

The most interesting thing going on here, other than daily work on the Tumbleweed Cabaret web site (not complete, so no public link yet) is something I probably shouldn't mention. Suffice to say Lizzie and Baba will return to what I'm sure will be a pleasant surprise, courtesy of our Holy Road Gardener, Mike Clark.

Okay, the first of a brief series of exercises I did recently in an effort to find the "voice" I'm looking for for my novel. Each day I'll post a new one. Each is only a paragraph long and each is entirely different from the others.

I.
Wednesday was for him a slightly strange day, a day not quite like the other days. For one thing, it was the day his Auntie Bell invited over her friend, an older women wearing a pink and lavender flower print dress and rather grand hat with a long needle that went all the way through the top and seemed to pierce her head. When she arrived, breathing heavily and perspiring, the first thing she did was pull the long needle out and hold it in one hand while removing the hat with their other, waving the brim briskly in front of her face while chattering loudly to Auntie Bell. Mikey couldn't take his eyes off the needle until she had reinserted it in her head, primped her hair in back, and turned to him. “Oh my goodness!” she gushed, taking one giant step toward him and advancing on him like a Patton tank, grabbing his paralyzed frame in both hands and planting a massive wet kiss that seemed to cover half his face. “Isn't he just the cutest little thing!” As if suddenly rising to the surface of a slime clotted lake after nearly drowning, Mikey was careful to hold his breath until he could reach up with his arm and wipe the wet from his face. The guest, who had retreated an enormous distance by then, said, “It's all right dear. Bell, what an an adorable child! Is he Meg's? Your grandchild?” She then tottered off to the kitchen for coffee and pastry and rarely ever gave Mikey a glance after that, to his great relief.

Potluck Wednesday at the Holy Road House

The last couple of days has been all about cooking. Cooking food, cooking up ideas for how to improve the House. Yesterday I cooked up not one but three quiches. Denise dropped by and we shared most of one, fresh from the oven. Yum. Today is potluck day but I thought no one would show up. But Pam called and came over about 6 p.m., then Bean walked in the door. I made my first ever totally vegetarian stew and it turned out great. Scott Wilson and Kaos both called, checking in, saying howdy, and Kaos says he'll drop off a disc with photos on his way to work tomorrow so I can put them on the web. Made an appointment with Matt to mix the Cabaret audio this Saturday too. Bean is staying upstairs the rest of this week. The three of us talked about the coop, the "collective", a term Bean used and it felt good so I used it too, what it means to us, what we hope to contribute and get from it all. A good spirited discussion, even with just three of us. We miss Lizzie and Baba but the House has its own spirit which speaks to us and through us and affirms the vision of lives made healthier and more fulfilling through cooperative and creative efforts.

I shared a couple of my stories with Pam, who was an appreciative audience, and I sent her off with a copy of "Rabbit's Story". She is struggling to create too - compositions, the passion of her youth, as writing is of mine.

We grow creatively by doing and by sharing. Cooking, sharing, eating together. The Holy Road House and the emerging coop makes this all much easier to do. I thank the spirits of north, east, south, and west once again before going to bed.

Groundbreaking Monday

This morning the Community Gardening folk showed up and got down to it. They hammered together three large boxes, in which I assume they will pour dirt and plant seeds. Very like the way I'd like to do our garden, but they are doing it on a large scale. They also tilled the soil all day and well into the evening. It's going to be some garden next door, count on it.

It seemed a long day today in this huge quiet house, too quiet, so I loaded WinAmp and my favorite "XRG-Radio" playlist and let it play all day. That helped, but not enough. I was at odds with myself and found it hard to focus. But tomorrow is another day and I plan to make the best of it. I also have a small gig with Hilary in the afternoon, and playing a bit of music has always been good for me - it clarifies the soul, you might say.

Empty House Syndrome

Baba is in Brooklyn (I think) and Lizzie is on the road to points east, especially to rejoin Baba and perform the Cabaret. Darhma Dog is riding with her; both are watching out for Officer Hagerty and hiking and driving. Me, I'm alone in this huge house for the first time.

I still feel like I'm getting used to the place - still finding myself here. And making that happen means developing my daily routines - writing, meditating, yoga, cleaning up, doing laundry, fixing meals, finding places for my stuff, much of which is still scattered on the floor of my room. But every day I feel more at home, more a part of the place and the movement behind the place (which I'm also still discovering and I think partly defining along with Lizzie and Baba and the Garderners).

But today is Sunday and I was up late last night playing a gig with the Hilary Scott Band at the Martini Bar, and I'm feeling mostly lazy. And it's Earth Day, so it's as if (in my imagination) a huge part of Columbia has turned out to celebrate my birthday today, and I have yet to wander down to the party, where, quite appropriately and with the exception of a few friends, I will be completely ignored. A fun little zen fantasy, then.

All I've done today that's useful is work on setting up my workstation and wash sheets from last week. Tomorrow the real fun begins, including morning writing, vacuuming the house, finish stripping beds and doing laundry, putting things away, and working on the Tumbleweed Cabaret web site. And except for some of the grunt work, it's all fun stuff. I still start my days here with a smile and whispered gratitude given to all four corners of the compass. Our new lives and emergent realities best begin with moments of thankfulness and with smiles, preferably with laughter. The curious effect of all of this for me is that I feel so much more relaxed around other people - more than I have in years. I feel so much more real.

All quite amazing. Thank you Lizzie. Thank you Baba. Thank you Holy Road House. Thank you Alisa and James and Alysia and Ron and Brandon and Mike and Bean and all the Holy Road Gardeners and Denise and Joni and Alicia and the ghosts around me. Life has gotten so very much more interesting.

Antibalas Has Left the House

I've never made pancakes for a dozen people before, and I've never seen them devoured as eagerly or as fast as this morning between 9-10 a.m. These guys were up and showered and fed and on the road by 10:15, and we had handshakes and hugs all around.

Lizzie was up late - very late - until everyone had come down from their performance highs and crashed. She apparently had friendly words with our local constable about the jamming going on in the back yard in the middle of the night. Officer Hagerty may haunt her, but I'm pretty sure this one was friendly enough.

Then back to work on the Tumbleweed Cabaret web site and other odd jobs, after picking up the Spit, which just got an oil change.

The tension of the day, which we always managed to turn into fun work, is that Lizzie is leaving tomorrow, hittin' the road, adios amigos for the moment, and there's so much she needs to do. But we decided this morning that as every moment is Now, that the time between starting a job and finishing it must be Now, which is the same Now as Now, and therefore of infinately, unmeasurably, short duration. In other words, all of the work is already long done, and we're running around, busy as hens, remembering that it's already done.

And I can't say that's much easier than actually a doing the work. But one of my favorite zen sayings is, "work without doing!". So easier or not, I think we're on the right track.

Antibalas is In the House

Tiring but amazing day: the band arrived about 2 in the afternoon. Seven or eight guys with large bags and cool gentlemanly ways, on the road for the last three weeks at least. Lizzie gathered them around, gave them a whirlwind tour of the house, took a walk downtown with some, and the rest of the afternoon they settled into claiming bed and floor space, e-mail checking, baths, and cool conversations. They're an Afro-dance horn band from ... all over probably. They're playing as I write but I caught their first set. Eleven musicians on stage, great energy and rhythms and horn lines and solos - couldn't ask for more.

Finished a story I like this morning. Posted it so some friends can give me feedback but I've already edited it and now must update my post. Lesson: don't be hasty with posting stories, even when I think they're done.

All this means Lizzie and I didn't make much progress on the Tumbleweed Cabaret site today but we did work on the story over breakfast which was much fun.

Groggy and tired tonight - today all day really. Denise came by and treated me to a birthday dinner at Murry's - a real treat and delicious, but I'm rather happy to report that my stomach has been shrinking and smaller meals are now more satisfying than feasts. Then she went to rehearsal with the Alan Beason Big Band and when she was finished we went up to the Blue Note for a bit of dancing and jiggling to Antibolus. Hope I'm spelling the name of the band right.

Night all, must sleep now.