The Load

This morning I woke up to a song…what was it again? Maybe it was from The Band…for the last few hours the only words in my head are from the chorus from The Weight.

The wake-up words were about a boy who’s mother left when he was young; of course, my mind goes back to Brooklyn. The past few days thoughts about him are empty, the connection with him has become a distant memory, almost like it never existed in the first place.

Today marks four days on the farm, so far, it’s been great, hopefully this morning we will sit down and discuss a plan. My job has been to deep clean; my choice as they don’t expect me to do anything specific, I’m kind of on my own and finding my own value here. I decided I will keep cleaning and figure out a rhythm, figure out rules, regulations, and safety guidelines to suggest we start implementing. Hopefully today I will have the official title of, Fairy Godmother.

I do want to be a part of this experience, but I really don’t feel like I have a lot to offer other than building some parameters and structures. For some reason my creative process feels like it’s been castrated and although my old ideas could be implemented here I don’t feel it happening yet. Yesterday I finally came up with a couple creative ideas and I realized this is Alice’s place, she is the First Mate managing this ship and has great visions and dreams, I’m just one of her arms. I’m happy she liked my idea about her junk yard; The Captain seemed amused when I told him I had been shopping at Alice’s…Alice appears to like my idea about a picture for the blog we will be putting together and the name, “Shopping at Alice’s”…although one idea isn’t doable, she elaborated on another and took it way beyond what I imagined, I think she likes the contrast.

The other evening I heard Captain Cook say to her, “it’s like a well-oiled machine”, not perfectly but it is getting there and she has been working hard. It’s taken a couple days to figure this out but I think part of the emptiness I’m feeling right now is the not knowing and still feeling ungrounded. For today this is a positive step working towards the dream…

Take a load off, Fanny

Take a load for free

Take a load off, Fanny

And put the load right on me…

Why are those words stuck in my head? What was the song and the words that woke me up this morning?




Dear Brooklyn,

I’m afraid…I had no idea where I would be a few weeks ago. My original plan was to go to Florida and work at a B&B because I know I need the experience. What I really want is a place of my own. I know it will never happen because I don’t have an education. I know how different I am in this world. I’m an altruistic chameleon who only wants to help people heal, pretty big job for someone as insignificant as me…. I didn’t send it.

This morning I’m sitting in my bed, not wanting to get out. It’s chilly and raining on the farm…I’m contemplating my escape. Tomorrow evening I’ll be in Florida 5 Miles to White Sand! Safe and Cozy, but is it really? The woman appeared nice. I asked if the private room had a bathtub, her affirmative reply was that she even had bath salts if I needed them.  Hopefully my vision of the next place I land on the 8th will be more fruitful.

Just a few weeks ago…I don’t even remember how long it’s been, but it feels like an eternity…in my mind, I’ve been building castles. Taking my ideas and placing a page on each plot of abandoned land on this farm. 175 acres that have been organically farmed for over 30 years; outside my window is almost a quarter acre with structures just waiting to be updated and landscaped to be a chicken community…when I first arrived he bitched because no one would pay $10, with my design people will pay $20 a dozen just to see my creation…but then that would include a small community of people to help create it, I am only one human.

He told me that growing food doesn’t pay the bills because organic growers are not subsidized; yet his focus is getting the farm store open to sell food.

All I see here is an experience. Before I came here I was told of grand plans; firepits for the campers and RVer’s. Since I came here I’ve seen at least 7 unused porcelain bathtubs, I told him about my bath shack idea but of course it falls on deaf ears. The other day I found an abandoned playhouse in the vacant field beyond the lake; perfect place to have a zip line and an obstacle course. Then there’s the fairy garden, selling magic dust, and Magic Moon & Star seeds. What about the tiny house above the sheep stable in the middle of the field? What about the porch he told me that he wanted to look like Martha Stewart was there? What, WHAT, WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?

My time here has been cleaning house after house of dirt, filth and debris, seeing the excess of crap that once had value; the gluttony, the give a shit attitude for what you have and complaining because you don’t have. I’m tired of dealing with the constant conflict of values and beliefs people have. I’m tired of living in the boxes of everyone else. If I’m supposed to survive on this planet, I want my own. Right here, right now! After almost 6 year of traveling, Arizona was the only place that felt like home…at least at one time it did, all I’m asking for energy similar to Brooklyn’s energy to show up in my life.

My last act of dealing with the farmers shit was taking my beautiful new friend to the Dallas bus station an hour away. Some of her last words to him was calling him a twat. Too much drama to even try to process let alone try to write about…the past few weeks have been exhausting, even writing 4 letters asking for help has fell on deaf ears. Maybe this journey will end somewhere on the interstate between Celeste and Gulf Breeze…or maybe someplace offshore while floating in the Gulf of Mexico; maybe I’ll get eaten by sharks, please don’t let it hurt. There are no more signs and there is no end in sight.

Tomorrow evening I hope to be soaking in a tub of bath salts after my 10 hour drive; then I’ll sit outside under a hopefully starlight night…what more could a girl ask for?