Adams, Ansel Easton 1902-1984. Mount Shasta and Shasta Dam [photograph]. In : Adams, Ansel Easton 1902-1984 and Newhall, Nancy. The Pagent of History in Northern California. San Francisco, Calif.: American Trust Company, 1954. Photo No. 33. Contains the only known Ansel Adams photograph of Mount Shasta (photo number 33 of this unpaginated book). Actually, it appears that the main subject of this photo is the Shasta Dam, and that Mt. Shasta in the background is an essential though not primary feature. One can see Mount Shasta's 'Sun Bowl' and 'Powder Bowl.' Adams's technical note for this photograph states: " 8 x 10, 26 1/2 component of Cooke Series XV, Wratten A, Kodak portrait Pan, Ansco 27."

The American Trust Company commissioned the book in honor of its centenary. Contains fifty of Adams's photographs with accompanying poetic prose by Nancy Newhall. For the Mt. Shasta photo, the text reads : "Winter is rain; the hills turn emerald, blossom starts forth. To the north, snow gleams deeper on the majestic old volcano, Shasta; to the east, the Sierra glitters, a wave of snow peaks hundreds of miles long."

Rumi

A THIRSTY FISH

I don't get tired of you. Don't grow weary
of being compassionate toward me!

All this thirst equipment
must surely be tired of me,
the waterjar, the water carrier.

I have a thirsty fish in me
that can never find enough
of what it's thirsty for!

Show me the way to the ocean!
Break these half-measures,
these small containers.

All this fantasy
and grief.

Let my house be drowned in the wave
that rose last night out of the courtyard
hidden in the center of my chest.

Joseph fell like the moon into my well.
The harvest I expected was washed away.
But no matter.

A fire has risen above my tombstone hat.
I don't want learning, or dignity,
or respectability.

I want this music and this dawn
and the warmth of your cheek against mine.

The grief-armies assemble,
but I'm not going with them.

This is how it always is
when I finish a poem.

A great silence overcomes me,
and I wonder why I ever thought
to use language.

our ability to adapt is quite a thing, isn't it?

i suppose i can thank the local brewery and the close-knit and welcoming and very friendly people here. you have the right friends and you feel at home. you start to know streets' names, when the best restaurants are open, all the details of the world's most oversharing gas station attendant's fucked up life. you start to feel at home.

i'd like to get my own place, though. and a job that doesn't make too many demands on me. i like to take it easy.

the garden is alive and beautiful, and winding down. i hope i can continue to keep a garden wherever i live in the future.

i may need to live in a bigger town, or closer to a bigger town, for a music scene's sake.

but we'll see.

oh yeah, i'm sick. sore throat and feverish and weak and headachy/ear-achy. achey? achy? well, you know. i ache.

happy, though.

today i co-taught a workshop on wild edibles and got paid for it. i'm really goddamn proud of myself. just wanted to make a quick note of it.

i'm happy, i'll say that. i'm drinking homemade kombucha, the doors are open and i'm listening to winged insects try to find their way out before night falls. i'm enjoying the feeling of warmth hovering over my sun-soaked and -burned skin while the air cools around me; it'll be another hour and a half before the sun completely sets, but it's found its way behind the trees now.

everything's in the ground and here's a rough list of the things i've planted, from seed and baby plants: lettuces, arugula, swiss chard, purple and buttercrunch and another green cabbage, kale kale kale, broccoli, cilantro, dill, parsley, green onions, red and yellow onions, beans, peas, zucchini, yellow squash, butternut squash, cucumbers, red and yellow and green bell peppers, tomatoes (stupices and german pinks, better boys and early girls, romas and pineapples), sweet basil, radishes, beets, baby and big carrots.

the tomatoes at the abbey are already showing little green baby bulbs. the radishes only take 22 days. i'll probably have to replant the squashes and beans, the seeds are large and have probably rotted from all the rain and lack of sun. which, hopefully, will be a problem no longer. it felt like summer today and you can almost hear the sighs of relief from everyone, everything. it's been a hard winter for this town, a short and wet spring, and they're ready to move on. ready for gardens so thick they look like jungles, ready for a reason to move slower and to rest in the shade, ready for longer days, open windows, bug sprays, sunscreen.

it's amazing how liberated i feel being so far from home and not having a deadline for a return. the biggest step, that one-way plane ride, has been taken and i can't wait for what's next. i can't believe how much i'm learning, the quality of food i'm eating, the company i'm keeping, the trees and meadows and mountains that surround me, the air i'm breathing. i am blown away by everything.

and fresh goat cheese every week from a goat named nelly that lives down the street.

and my best friend quit her job and is coming to join me in ten days, to share my room and food and work and HAPPINESS. i don't know how long she's staying and neither does she, she bought a one-way ticket.

summer summer summer.

i don't MEAN to not update, but that's what happens. i feel that i should be writing and writing and keeping track of everything, taking notes, because my memory fades. but i'm not.

suffice it to say that i'm doing incredible. that i'm learning a lot and feeling great, etc etc.

maybe i'll write more when i can think of what to say.

god i've had this blog forever. i suppose that's a good thing, right? consistency is key. AS IF i knew anything about consistency. other than, you know, consistently complaining about loneliness and smoking and drinking (gosh i want a whiskey!) and watching too much tv and thinking about fucking, which is all that this blog has to show for its two years in existence (i know because i just read it all). but i don't care. i'm attached to this thing. the entries are like post-it notes, convenient little reference points for me. FOR ME. thank christ this isn't a real blog, it wouldn't make any sense. that's what i get for writing for myself. a whole lotta crazy.

i'd rather write in my moleskine but because it was almost full and pretty heavy i locked it in a suitcase with journals from years past and now i think, i hope, it's safely under my sister's bed. she may or may not have purchased a new one and new pens for me and may or may not be sending them to me. i hope she does. i've got notes to take.

i've been here a week and i feel wonderful. getting into the habit of things. i am weak weak weak but i suppose eventually i'll get stronger. i have to, right?

i have pieces of hay in my pocket and i clean up horse shit like a pro. i've gotten hungry at the smell of cut dandelion leaves and tansy and miner's lettuce and sticky plant and clover that i've snipped one-by-one from a sunny meadow and between tree stumps. THE AIR is so pure; upon inhalation, my heart swells as good as any lung. swells swells swells. i could listen to the birds for hours. i want to lie in the meadows and breathe and i want to be swallowed up into the earth and spit out and i want to be held and whispered to, but i suppose the birds are enough.

i miss my cats.

god i hate flickr. but anyways, more here.

yesterday i was on three airplanes and today i'm in between three mountains. a lot of near misses (such a misnomer... i think mitch hedburg did a bit on this?) yesterday, with late flights and having to go through security an unexpected second time (so unexpected that i hadn't emptied my aluminum water bottle and THANK CHRIST the guy was nice and dumped my water out instead of making me go dump it myself and go back through security, i owe that guy my life) and stepping onto a tram just as the doors closed behind me in an effort to get across san francisco international and being one of the last to board a tiny plane to get to medford, or.

i'm staying in a room with multiple unicorn decorations (books, figurines, etc. there are more throughout the house, but not in a crazy unicorn person, aka me, way.). the horse that i'm taking care of is a gorgeous white lipizzaner, essentially a unicorn without the horn. the pajama pants i brought have unicorns and white pegasuses on them. i'd also like to state for the record that on my upper left arm proudly sits a goddamn unicorn tattoo. so, i dunno, you tell me.

it's the little things.

so anyways this place is incredible. i will post pictures soon, for my benefit and the benefit of, i dunno, two others.

snow's been falling all day today and yesterday, it's fucking gorgeous.

my life is fucking gorgeous. i can't believe i get to stay here for SIX MONTHS. it's only been a day and a half and i've already had my mind blown by the vegan raw food, the homemade kombucha, SHELVES UPON SHELVES of books! i am even excited to shovel horse shit.

heaven.

norfolk, va --> charlotte, nc
charlotte, nc --> san francisco, ca
san francisco, ca --> medford, or

from there a short drive south to mt. shasta, ca.

begin sequence in... oh, i dunno. THREE AND A HALF HOURS?!?!?!

i need some sleep.

i don't know why i'm such a sucker for philip glass, but i am. and i am so so glad amc is showing the 1931 dracula with his 1999 score right now. i won't say the music makes it a better film, but it makes it different. and incredible. and yes, you can feel the 68-year difference, but what gap can't be bridged by a string quartet?

less than five days. i'm digging in my heels but time drags me along. i can feel my brain stalling. fear/excitement/fear/excitement/fear/excitement/fear/excitement/fear.

if i think about it too much i panic.

so i'll try not to.

i mean, there really is no reason to panic.

no reason to panic.

























PANIC PANIC PANIC.

oh, yeah, and i'm lonely too. i miss being in a relationship, i miss kissing, i miss fucking and making love, i miss sharing experiences and jokes, i miss being so deep in love that it makes me irrational and needy and desperate but blissful and without a care, i miss feeling accepted and cared for. i miss a whole lot of things.

but, curse the gods of time and space, there is no room for that in my life at the moment. right?

MUST SOLDIER ON. did i say that already? i feel like i have. fucking head of the department of redundancy department over here.

munch.

I realize that the dawn
when we'll meet again
will never break,

so I give it up,
little by little, this love.

But something in me laughs
as I say this, someone

shaking his head and chuckling
softly, Hardly, hardly

-- Rumi

i hate feeling this way but i'm sucking it up like nectar, getting fat and humming with the pleasure and pride of a true glutton. i'm licking my greasy fingers and words fall out of my mouth, dribble down my chin, stain my shirt. it's painful and i can feel the pain growing, a shadow late in the day, cooling and calming but looming with the threat of a darker dark, an impossible, inescapable, inevitable night. god i'm sick with metaphors, this always happens. there's nothing else to do, anyways.

(i've been sleeping on the couch; i like it because it feels like someone is sleeping next to me. i wish they were.)

NINE DAYS UNTIL I LEAVE. i might have a panic attack. i'm grossly underprepared, to the point that i'm worried i'll disappoint my host and make things uncomfortable. i know i shouldn't worry so much, it'll take some adjustment but i'll be fine. and this will be fun and exciting OH MY GOD am i excited.

it's been four years (!!!) since i've graduated high school and moved down the street from my parents and i'm terrified and thrilled to be making such a change. not only in lifestyle but in terrain! my fucking heart beats faster when i think about having mountains on the horizon again, when i think about craning my neck to see the swaying tops of pine trees and when i think about floating by myself in the middle of an alpine lake my fucking body tingles. to be a part of the earth again! (fuck i miss the desert.)

i've been spending too much time by myself, not doing anything. this weekend i made no progress, didn't move or pack or clean a thing (except maybe a dish or two and a cup for whiskey). i'm ok with this because the naps have been phenomenal, and i've gotten to spend quality time with my brain on fucking autopilot, real life dripping and sliding off it like water off a duck's back. fucking bliss, but it's coming to an end. it has to.

officially less than two weeks until my departure. i am slowly taking apart my home, steadily dusting and dividing and sneezing, but conquering. boxes and bags of stuff and trash have gone their respective ways, with still more to go. hopefully i can finish up tomorrow. i say hopefully because i am a bum and a filthy procrastinator.

hank is gone. it's lonely without him following me from room to room, waiting for me on the other side of every door, purring. fredo and hildegard could care less about his absence, i think. more power to them. won't be long until they have a new home, too, and then it'll be me, all by myself. true solitude for the first time in, i don't know, ages. weird.

so much to do.

Moon, 2009.

i said fuck eight or something times in that last post. i remember a teacher telling me once that curse words were for people who weren't smart enough to know how to express their feelings in an intelligent manner. well thanks a lot, teach, now i've got a complex.

i just put an ad up on craigslist to give away my cats. i'm breaking my heart. the act of giving away these LIVING BEINGS! i love so much seems so backwards and foreign, what the fuck am i doing? i know it's what i'm supposed to do, but fuck. i feel like a monster. i don't ever, EVER want to do this again. it will be a long time before i let another one of those furry little fuckers into my heart.

i'm finding this a hundred times more fucking difficult and heart-wrenching than that time i broke up with my first-love first-fuck live-in boyfriend of almost four years. even then i felt a glimmer of hope, but not now. now all i see is a deep dark lonely blackness, devoid of soft little kitten paws and warmth and unconditional love and cat nip binges and biscuit-making on my thighs. the thought of never again hearing hildegard's bird purr or fredo's motor purr or hank's weird snore-whistle purr BREAKS MY FUCKING HEART.

i'm a goddamn baby.

maybe it's guilt? they depend on me and they can't understand my intentions, they don't know that i'm about to give them the boot and will probably never see them again. will they wonder about me when i'm gone? will they think it was their fault? i can't handle it. so, in a vain effort to assuage my growing feelings of self-loathing and despair, last night, out on a fucking limb of crazy, i woke fredo up from the snoozefest he was having on my lap and i forced myself to say, OUT LOUD, that i had to give him and his sister and hank away, and that i was sorry, and that i loved him and parting with him was the last thing i wanted to do. he just blinked at me all lovingly and purred and went back to sleep. it didn't help.

this is the third night in a row i've cried cried cried. i think it's all pent up -- after a year and a half of NEVER being alone, my roommates finally move out and i can finally shed all the tears my crybaby self has kept bottled up for so long. i'm a fucking wreck. i haven't gotten anything done these past few days, despite the threat of a quickly-approaching deadline. i feel paralyzed. i just want to curl up into someone and cry cry cry and be held held held.

but we soldier on, i suppose.

i sound like a crazy person. i would say i'm not, but at this point, why bother splitting hairs? if it walks like a duck...

-in five more days i will have two weeks left in virginia. i really like the idea of not coming back at the end of this 6+ month internship. i want to go to hawaii or the desert for the winter months. we'll see.

-tonight is the first night i've been in the apartment alone. i mean, my cats are still here. our impending separation paralyzes me. i am a sucker.

-i've been semi-steadily giving boxes of my junk to a nearby thrift store. today they got a box half-full of underwear and bras and two stuffed unicorns, among other things. i have just one box packed for storage, which contains the (mostly) books and dvds and cds i can't bear to part with. it feels nice to have that little bit sorted, though the media that didn't make the cut has yet to be sold or given away. there is a lot more i have to do.

-i don't know why i'm bothering typing this. i'd barely even want to read this for reference later. i'd rather read a grocery list. it just feels nice to type.

-there i go, setting myself up for the wistful longing thing again. what am i thinking? i dunno. i can't help it. the heart wants what it wants. my heart is wont to want a lot. yeah, i know, i wrote that anyways. i mean, i wouldn't put it in a paper or anything, but it's definitely not too cheesy for a fucking blog, for christ's sake.

-love is a battlefield, we belong, hell is for children.

a month until i leave virginia indefinitely. i'm supposed to be moved out of this apartment and into my parents' house in two weeks. there are still posters on my walls, maybe i should take them down so i can feel a little farther along in the moving process than i actually am. my roommates are supposed to be moved out by the 31st but neither of them have so much as packed a box. i'm barely dealing with the anxiety my own ineptitude drowns me in, and fucking panic overwhelms me if i don't think about the right things. let me make a list.

td:
-find a home for my cats, craigslist seems like the most viable option. it hurts me to think about.
-stop spending money, utilize what food i have in the kitchen.
-be ruthless in the sorting and giving away of clothes and books.
-get rid of my furniture, dvds, video games. again craigslist seems like the easiest way to go. is there any way to make money of them? i don't know.
-CLEAN CLEAN CLEAN. steam the carpets, paint the walls, scrub the crevices.
-get luggage, fill it with only things i need.

DON'T PANIC.

i'm bitch but i can't help it. i wish you were near me, as selfish as that is. i told you i can't help it.

today is jack kerouac's birthday.

i haven't had any meat, save for some sushi and shrimp, in almost a month and a half. this isn't a big deal, just the first steps towards full-fledged raw food veganism. thought i'd make a note of it.

i'm not taking enough notes, i'll have to start that.

shark attacks are at their lowest in five years thanks to the economy. less vacations, less shark snacks dangling in the sea.

all my clothes are clean, it took me a few loads. most of them are folded and now i have to divide them up into these categories: keep and take with me, keep and store here, sell, donate/trash. i have to do this with all of my belongings, actually, and i sure as fuck am putting it off as long as possible. i'm not good at deciding. also not good at selling. and i hate to waste things.

MINIMALISM, will it work for a sentimental and indecisive sap like me? who knows.

i can't wait until this bubble of depression breaks. until i break it! it's only a matter of time, and place.

i'm drinking a lot of water. and probably more whiskey than i should.

r.i.p. biggie & hank.

Notorious B.I.G. - Party & Bullshit
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"sway with me" by charles bukowski

sway with me, everything sad --
madmen in stone houses
without doors,
lepers steaming love and song
frogs trying to figure
the sky;
sway with me, sad things --
fingers split on a forge
old age like breakfast shell
used books, used people
used flowers, used love
I need you
I need you
I need you:
it has run away
like a horse or a dog,
dead or lost
or unforgiving.

and a family fucking heirloom at this point.

the thought of being this way for the rest of my life petrifies me. i'm stricken with panic, will i be able to change? depression is such a thick blanket, so comfortable and warm and familiar...

tell me i will not be this selfish and uninspired forever.

always biting off more than i can chew.

stoned on our never-ending supply of brownies, blessed by jah. entranced by ella fitzgerald and louis armstrong - ella and louis (1956). my best friend is out with my ex-boyfriend. that seemed worth noting. a good valentine's day nonetheless, i feel sufficiently loved and appreciated. grateful for many things. ready to go.

UGH I AM LABORING OVER WORDS.

i'm having fun being devious, not having fun being broke, waiting for CALIFORNIA. i'm thrilled and scared and ready. worried about my cats.

starting at midnight tonight, it's supposed to snow for 30 hours. i'm hearing estimates of 7-10 to 10-12 inches, we'll see. poor virginia beach is in a tizzy over it.

what is the point of a personal blog anymore? when i was younger i had secrets to share, but now it's all convoluted thoughts and boring complaints that are better suited for the neglected moleskine i carry with me everywhere. maybe i just like the convenience of typing and attaching photos. i'll have to think about this. but for now i must slaughter this locust queen.

things to remember: heavy flirting, catchy acoustic pop songs, red hair. a mexican and a guatemalan and happy wine-drunk and sing-songy people, lettuce wraps and confetti cake and wine wine wine. i need to start things.

at my parents' house tonight, my mother tells me while we're eating that she's surprised i'm going through with my plans for this internship, as she's already voiced her displeasure with the idea. i tell her yes, i am, i'm serious, this is what i want to do. she says ok, that's fine. were you planning to take your car? i don't think it will make it. i say, yes, it will, it's a new car, only five years old. she shakes her head and blinks a slow blink, a snake's blink, and says, no, i don't think so. i think we'll keep the car. i look at my food and pick out a strand of my mother's hair -- she must have been distracted tonight -- and put it aside. i look back at her and i say, ok. i turn inwards for a second and try to pinpoint what i'm feeling -- it's not surprise. no, the car was a generous birthday/graduation gift in high school, and i've always suspected that my use of it would be conditional, and it was an easy target for my mother, the general. an easy leg to kick out from underneath me. military tactics. i was not surprised. angry? no. how could i be? this is as much of a new experience for her as it is for me. i'm too empathic for anger.

i let her talk and then there's silence. my stepdad left the table and is looking out a window in the next room.

your stuff, she says, what are you going to do with it? i look at her and then away. my intentions are to sell most of it, but keep the valuable and the dear, but i just say, i don't know. if i can't keep anything of my things here then i guess i'll have to pay for a storage unit or something, i say. i don't mean this, it's just a ploy. i don't think i'll have enough stuff to warrant renting a storage unit but i say it anyways, i want to see if she takes the bait and lowers her guard and let's me know that i'm still her daughter and of course, don't be ridiculous, i wouldn't have to pay strangers to keep a few boxes of my belongings. she says, what stuff? i say, i don't know, clothes and books. she says, yes, what you said, a storage unit.

and when she says it i know exactly what i feel: hurt. plain, pure, unadulterated. i am scared and i need support from a woman who can only see herself, i need my mother, and it's ridiculous, and it's childish, but it hurts. that she can tell me so stone-faced, so calmly, so sure, that i'm on my own... i don't know. i'm hurt. so as my eyes start to flood, i pick up my plate and clear it, set it on the counter, and walk to the bathroom. i take a minute to wipe away tears, i'm such a baby, then i put on my shoes and leave.

i got the internship through WWOOF (worldwide opportunities on organic farms) that i wanted. i'll be spending april through october of this year at a small philosophical hermitage at the foot of mount shasta in northern california. the b&b has a large organic garden, a horse (with room for boarding more), and is next to a zen buddhist monastery. i was chosen out of 36 applicants. they are raw food vegans and yoga masters and philosophy professors and i'll be partaking in it all -- so we'll see what i'm like when i come back.

the walls of the hermitage are lined with books, there are alpine lakes for swimming, woods to get lost in, a small town five miles away. i'll have a bike and a kayak at my disposal.

this is a complete 180 from where my life is now. opposite coast, mountains/woods instead of beaches/swamps, outdoors instead of indoors.

i'm very excited to see where this brings me. i'll miss my cats most of all -- i hope that my parents will be able to take care of fredo and hildegard, and my roommate will hopefully keep hank. i haven't worked it out, though. i haven't worked anything out, except for working hard and stressing over getting the internship itself. i told my parents what i wanted to do back in december and they are both upset that i don't want to go to school this year (i'm satisfied right now with an associate's, i don't want to waste money on a bachelor's yet). i view this as going to school, but my mother not so much. i haven't told them yet that i am definitely going.

we'll see how this turns out.

i am excited to have a reason to pare down my possessions. i want to drive and i hope my tax return will be enough to cover most of the gas. i want to take my time driving, there is so much to see!

i am very excited. 2009 is over and this is a year of change for me. experience! adventure!

01022010