River Phoenix 

river 

My Own Private River

The first boy I ever loved was River Phoenix. He hung on my bedroom wall between the ages of 9 and 14. When I danced by myself in my room, he was always my favorite partner. I even remember kissing that picture goodnight a few times, until I realized I could actually damage it by getting it wet. (laugh if you must)
Ya I was hooked on River, he most definitely set the standard for the rest of the men in my life. I have a weakness for a pretty face, and a tragically romantic disposition. I think a big part was the serious look in his eyes, I guess I must have taken myself pretty seriously.
I even remember what picture it was, River was sporting the shaved head and white t-shirt from his role in Stand By Me... which of course was one of my all time favorites for obvious reasons; it was written by good ole Mr. King, was a story about a young writer (which of course I fancied myself to be) and it had River Phoenix in it.
Later I replaced the old picture with one of River and Leaf, both quite young still, and one of the very few pictures of River actually smiling. I always imagined that they must be best friends as well as brothers, those two.
When I was about 15 my father went on a rampage and made me take down all my posters from my walls, it was his way of punishing me for one thing or another, my father was one of the ultra-strict in my youth, luckily for him, he's learned his lesson and no longer 'sweats the small stuff'. I remember I cried the whole time I was taking them down. River wasn't the only guy up there, but he was my favorite and I had taken pride in wallpapering my room with cute boys as is the way of adolescent girls.
I kept the posters I had of River, hidden away inside an old art book. I almost forgot that they were there... until the day I heard that River Phoenix had died. I was 17. I remember actually feeling shock, which I think is unusual when its not someone you really knew. Of course I cried, he was my first love, no matter how unrealistic.
After his death I remember watching as many River Phoenix movies as I could find and I think I cried through most of them... yes, yes, yes I am a crier, I find its better then breaking things over people's heads.
Around the same time as his death, I met a young man named Forrest, whom became another one of my loves and my new favorite dance partner, only it was real and not imagined. One of the first times I hung with Forrest at his house, we watched My Own Private Idaho... one of the few River flicks I had not seen. If a person has any homophobia what-so-ever, it is not a flick for them, but Forrest and I loved that movie. Together we mourned River Phoenix... sadly until two years later when Forrest died in a car crash. His death, which was much more real to me then River's, threw my whole world into a terrifying spiral. If you have never lost someone close to you, you cannot imagine how it feels, and if you have then you understand the deep feeling of tragedy. Since his death I have lost too many more friends to list, but none were as bad as losing Forrest, his death hit me like a building being dropped from a great height onto my oblivious head.
I think that was the event which changed my life. It was then that I began to see the world and life as a tenuous thing, and I learned hard lessons about acceptance and love. The day before Forrest died, we spent together. I remember he told me he loved me, probably voicing it for the first time, even though I had known it all along. He made me promise I would never give in to the pressure of society to conform and 'shape up' into a good citizen and consumer, but to always remain free spirited. After his death I remembered his words and thought how strange it was that he should say goodbye when he could not have consciously known he would die.
The lesson in all of this crying and death? Do not wait, life is happening right now as you make plans, and never put off telling the people you love, that you love them. This for Forrest and River... your names are known to me and your smiles will not be forgotten.

Anticipation to Vacation.

6 Days.

In only 6 short days I will get to experience the sense of independence that is alien to most parents until their spawn turn 18 or so. Maybe not, maybe most parents get a summer break now and then.. thats what grandparents, or aunts and uncles are for right? Well this is the first summer that I will get to have this amazing experience.

I have already mentioned before (at some point I am sure) that I used to get a lot more time away from the responsibilities of motherhood. When we still lived in the same area as 'daddy', and we practiced equal parenting. That was a wonderful, and sometimes guilty pleasure, one week with me, one week with dad. As of today its been 5 months in which I have had a total of 10 days break from my son. It may seem selfish to think of it that way, (as I'm sure it is to some uptight, self-righteous, rule-bound 'folks' who should just stop reading this post NOW) but I know how important it is to have space in a healthy way. Leave the guilt to the ultra-religious I say, they have enough for all of us. If you're going to do something find a reason that feels good to do it... "guilt is never the right reason" a good friend of mine used to say.

My son is totally secure and has no problem with going to stay with daddy, grandma and papa and uncle Sean, auntie willow, these are all his favorite people (especially uncle Sean shhhhh, he's practically Optimus Prime incarnate)... in the mountainous valley I so lovingly speak of. He will probably have a great month, and so will I. Family is a wonderful thing to have, unless you have that kind of family... the ones we don't like to speak of, then you'd be better off not allowing them to take your children for a month :)

In this case, our vacations are coming and I can't wait to see what kind of fun I can get myself into. I'm thinking a road trip to see my Annabanana, and at least a week of sleeping in until 9am. Hmmmm how wonderful. Well I am off to do some more work on the 'fire room'. We are renovating it, today is for sanding the mud, then a good coat of primer, paint and a nice new carpet.. it will probably end up being the nicest room in the house. Lucky Who.

Elemental Goddess 

Birthday Wishes

Birthday wish number 1: NO FIRES, unless the are in a fire pit or wood stove.

Last year the whole mountainside was burning. More then one mountain actually. You may remember the news about how many fire-fighters from all over Canada were being flown to B.C. to fight the fires. That was happening not far from our Solstice party. Actually I took off for a road trip across Canada on my birthday last year, strait from the solstice, and watched as the fire burned, wondering if my home would still be there when I returned.

Birthday wish number 2: New roommates who don't SUCK-ASS.

Well if any of you follow my other blog, you will know what this wish is about. So far we have had our house set on fire (see birthday wish #1), been totally mooched and lived-off of ( a few thousand dollars worth) and then my camera (which was my birthday present) was stolen by some druggie who my roommate allowed in. Yes new GOOD roommates would be a great present.

Birthday wish number 3: Dusty wrapped in nothing but a red ribbon and a leash.

This wish speaks for itself, but Dusty baby, you know I want you :)

Birthday wish number 4: Really hot SEX.

Who can go wrong with really good sex, not that it is something that generally happens at Solstice. I mean it probably does for some people, I don't go checking in tents or anything, but its not a requirement. Who doesn't want to have hot sex on their birthday's? As a good friend of mine suggests, we should be happy and special and get generally what we want every day, not just on our birthdays, but personally I think that most people feel special on their birthday's because its a celebration of the day THEY were born, not just any day or anybody... it IS special.

Birthday wish number 5: A salt-gun to shoot at the loud and obnoxious adolescents at 5am.

Every year there are a gang (which seems to grow each year) of 10-15 yr olds who stay up all night, which is fine in itself, and steal as much alcohol and pot as they can. Then they run about never minding the tents of sleeping people, screaming as much profanity as they possibly can fit into any sentence and eventually get so drunk they fall on their faces and end up looking like smashed hamburger the next day. It's oh so pleasant... or am I just getting older?

"Happy Birthday to Me.. and to Loralei, we both loved dancing at our parrrty!"

Final Birthday wish: To meet and have tea with Stephen King. (Nothing TOO difficult eh?)

Stephen King is my mentor. His writing always inspires me to go and write and stop putting off my stories. When he was a child his mother and her friends (or maybe it was his family) bought his very first stories off him for about .50 cents a piece. Personally I think that is how he first got the idea to write for a living. It was a smart move on Mrs. King's part I think, cause he gets oh so much more then .50 cents a piece now. I wish that we could put aside celebrity and I could just show up at Steve's house and tell him that I am an aspiring writer who would really love to just sit and have tea with him. Do you think he would go for it? Or do you think he would call the cops on me?

fire 

Fire!!

So this is life. How quaint. I was so relieved to find a new roommate for our huge house. Its been months since my little sister left, and the bite of paying full rent ourselves has been weighing terribly. Not to mention my 'other' roommooch who now has until the end of June to move out. I got really tired of her living off of us, so like I said, I was SO relieved when we found a new roommate. It was relief that ended abruptly.

My wonderful new roommate turned out to be very unreliable and the kind of person who moves about constantly. It seemed pretty clear to me, almost as soon as she moved in, that she runs away from life. She had big plans to come here, get a job, finish schooling. Then almost immediately she started talking about going back to the island, or maybe to Penticton, or possibly Alberta. She finally settled on Banf, without even consulting her boyfriend, who happens to be a very good friend of mine which is how I met her. So he calls up to tell her he almost has all of their stuff in order and will be joining her here in 10 days, she then informs him that she has decided to move on. Of course he decides to make the 10 days shorten into 2 days... then tomorrow, seeing as she won't wait for him. At this point I really begin to wonder about his taste in women.

So the next day he shows up... after 11pm at which point I am already sleeping because I have to get up at 7am to take my son to school the next morning. Well the next morning I get woken up at 6:30am to sounds of crashing and screaming. Being a mother it does not take more then a couple of seconds for me to be out of bed and into my robe.

When I open the door into the hallway I am immediately confused by what I see. There is he and she running around in their skivvies in the hallway. At first I thought maybe I had interrupted some weird sexual game, until I noticed the smoke. I walk out of my room quickly and say: "What's going on?" Then I get far enough into the hallway to see their room filled with black smoke and dark orange flames on the floor at the far end of the room.

My question seemed to snap him out of the confusion he was running around in and he grabs a blanket on the floor and runs back into the room muttering "I've got to put it out." My first response is to run into the bathroom and start soaking a towel. I come back out with my soaking wet towel, realizing how much of the toxic black smoke is pouring out into the rest of the house. I go towards the room and I cannot see anything except for him on the floor beating at the flames. It does not take much and he's got the fire out, but the amount of smoke is overwhelming and I run into the room to open the window. It is too smoky and so I have to go back out and get my wet towel, covering my nose and mouth I go back in and fight to get the window open before both of us rush back out of the room to close the door and get some air.

Next I have to go into my sons room and get him dressed enough to get out of the house. When I tell him that there was a fire he says "Oh Cool!" in classic 7 year old fashion. We all beat it down the stairs and I wake up Who, who happens to be sleeping on the couch. Everyone up and out of the house. That's when we notice that he got burnt putting out the fire. Because he did not stop to wet the blanket and just used his hands... thats what fear and panic do to you.

What had happened was my friend, in true hippie fashion, fell asleep with a candle burning. The absolute idiotic thing about that, beyond leaving a candle burning, is that he left it burning on my sons old plastic desk that we had stored in that room. The whole flat part of the desk was melted down to the burnt carpet, which in turn started a plastic art case full of crayons on fire as well. Who knows how long they were asleep in the poisonous fumes, I guess its lucky for all of us that they even woke up at all.

So the next step was to rush him to the hospital with melted plastic burnt onto his hand. He handled the pain well, although his face was red as a tomato, and I know it must have been excruciating. All the way there they both kept apologizing profusely, which was good and all, but its just empty words that change nothing. I said to him; "Look I know you feel bad, but really shit happens and you will just have to help us fix it." He agreed.

Later that day they came back from the hospital, his puffy, white sausage-like fingers bandaged up good and they took a one over of the room. He cut out the burnt part of the carpet, about a square of 3 feet by 2 feet, before I told him he really should just take it easy for the rest of the day. She made a sorry-ass attempt at cleaning the walls (or should I say one wall) with a mop, which really only succeeded in smearing black soot around. To top it all off, she got the money she had been waiting a week for that day, and instead of offering any at all for her staying here, or for any damages, they knocked on my door at about 10:30pm and told me they were heading off to Banf. They said they would call and would pay for the cost of fixing the room when we knew how much it would be. I was so tired and shocked that I just stood there ready to knock the shit out of both of them. I said something like: "You're leaving NOW?"

I guess I should have stopped them, but I was not in my right mind, and I know they took advantage of that. My love has not been home yet since all this has happened, and there is no phone where he is so I could not let him know. The guy in this scenario, with the burnt hand who I am trying not to name, works for my boyfriend... So I know he will have to deal with his wrath eventually. Now Who and I are cleaning the room. I want to have it done as much as I can before my love comes home, to soften the blow I guess. Also Who is going to move into that room, once it's done, thank fuckin god. At least she is reliable and trustworthy. What a crazy ride.

why is a raven like a writing desk? 

ALL HAIL THE TRUE QUEEN 

Who Are U? Don't you think you ought to tell me who u are first?