A Cabin in the Woods

A Cabin in the Woods

Perhaps some of you may have noticed that I have not posted any new material in almost three weeks…then again, maybe not, but to me it has been an eternity.

December 29th, the day before my mother died, I was served an eviction notice giving me fifteen days to vacate. The eviction was not much of a surprise.

For the last seven years the owner has refused to pay for any upkeep on the premises (which were greatly overpriced) and my payments for rent have admittedly been sporadic and short. I am not good with money.

Any normal person would not have stayed so long, but then again, I did not consider my current occupation to be anything more than the likes of a summer job, and I have been at it for almost nine years. It’s as if I fell down the rabbit hole and can’t find my way back out. If you can’t find something at least as good as what you were doing, what’s the difference?

At least I’m still in Florida. I came here in 1972, and left it for three long, cold, terrible years and couldn’t return fast enough once I had the chance.

Although the housing market tanked here just like everywhere else, and empty, foreclosed homes are on every block, none of them are for rent because the banks who now own them would rather keep them empty to artificially elevate the prices of rental property (presumably in collusion with realtors’ associations) leaving us with neighborhood after neighborhood of blocks filled with empty houses, which should have resulted in a renter’s paradise, if in fact supply and demand had anything to do with market prices.

Two months ago, my Nissan 300ZX had to be parked due to having two injectors fail and I have been unable to repair it immediately, leaving me to rely on my 1987 Toyota 4WD pickup truck exclusively, including my anticipated move.

Last Friday night, my truck spun a cam bearing, leaving me stranded until I could borrow a car to get home long enough to hire two men with a truck and a trailer to help me complete my move, including putting many items into a 10X10 storage room.

This includes my automotive tools, enough power tools to run a machine shop, a compressor and air tools, including paint sprayers, a ten kilowatt electric generator, a TIG welder, an eight-foot work bench, a world-class amateur radio station, a forty-foot antenna tower, a six-element tri-band horizontal antenna, and a half-wave vertical antenna.

My books, the stereos, a television, my last electric guitar, two amplifiers, and more firearms than I can fit into the safe that houses most of them are already safely tucked away in my new home, which is so small that I had to leave or give away most of the furniture.

I do not plan on keeping anything in storage for more than two months if I cannot find a way to make space for it in my new abode, a double-wide trailer. There is no garage or car port.

My first thought was “I sure hope this is bottom….”

But wait! There’s more….

I had my telephone service scheduled to be transferred last Monday. The telephone company installer could not find the address, which is not even listed on Google Earth.

Although they claimed to have the service turned on, the inside outlets had no signal, leaving me to trace the wiring from the pedestal myself, or wait until January 29th for repair service to locate the problem.  Today, Friday, I finally connected my telephone.

Everywhere I have ever lived seems to have a north county line full of radio and television antenna towers and desolate residences such as mine…I just never bothered to consider living there.

There seem to be two paradigms for trailer parks. One is for fifty-something plus only residents. Many of them are very respectable, upscale retirement-age communities that want nothing to do with the likes of either my pit-bull dog or me.

The other ones are teeming with life, no matter how sordid, where a single stray gunshot may pass through four residences in nanoseconds unless it lodges itself in something more substantial, presumably including a body or two. They are hotbeds of adultery, alcoholism, violence, drugs, perversion, and tall tales of dangerous lives lived without regard to consequences.

Legend has it that Original Sin was spawned in such a place many eons ago in Azerbaijan on the outskirts of Tabriz, long before aluminum was discovered.

But there is a downside…although I love intrigue and liaisons of mind and body far outside the norms of nominally civilized, domesticated minds, I need solace to write, and the sort of trailer parks that would welcome me are not likely to provide it.

I don’t need any more ideas for stories of craziness and depravity…living them in real time has already been responsible for too many years’ delay in writing what I already know.

This tiny grotto is unlike either of these types of places. It was formerly as lawless and dangerous as any Wild West gold rush town, but while the new owners ran out the really dangerous degenerates there is no danger of it ever becoming too respectable for the likes of me. It is run-down and squalid, but quiet.

And as it turns out, I really already love the place. For the first time in more years than I can recall, there is almost no ambient noise…at least nothing chronic or continuous. I rarely hear the noise of the closest highway, even though it is a major thoroughfare.

Ever since my arrival, I have felt more as if I was in a campground, rather than a trailer park, and this is my cabin in the woods.

For the last three weeks, every day started early with endless lists of required activities that demanded my attention until later than I cared to be awake leaving me even less time to sleep to prepare for my next ten-hour day at work from Monday through Thursday as a telemarketer.

Despite loss, distraction and dislocation, my sales figures continue to exceed not only my quotas, but also my own expectations. I dread and despise the prospect of going in, but once I am there, within the hour I find myself fully engaged, consumed and challenged.

Somehow it all just happens, almost as if it is something beyond my control once I set it in motion. I have learned to repeat entire paragraphs of dialogue without conscious effort, inputting data into several semi-independent programs on separate screens as I type notes related to the call that have no direct bearing to the words I am speaking as I type.

When I am in my zone, I am part radio talk show host, part snake oil salesman, and part chameleon, ingratiating myself to them with charm and witty repartee so as to practice home invasion by way of the telephone.

Although drugs are involved, I do not sell drugs; I simply sell home delivery of the drugs they already take. As such, I am an agent of the Evil Empire that is ruining prescription drug insurance in America, but at least it beats a gun and a ski mask, although sometimes not by much, and it is a far cry from raising the dead and transporting the sick and injured.

For the time being, it is my deep cover for the inside research necessary to write The Home for Wayward Souls and The Talking Monkeys.

Tonight I resume a love affair with my word processor, the internet, and this brain that is wired to my soul in a ménage a trois of abduction, seduction, and provocation.

I started blogging in an attempt to promote my books and other writings, only to discover the delicious nakedness of exposing my true nature and intellectual flights of fantasy to other writers who have become my muses and co-conspirators full of enthusiasm and encouragement.

I have missed you more than you probably know, although I hope you already know who you are.

This forced hiatus has taught me how much I need the push and pull and ebb and flow of ideas, energies and images we share like sex between lovers.

We are lovers of words using our craft to become lovers through words, even when there is no specific reference to sex at all…although those times are probably fewer than I might be inclined to acknowledge.

This is what separates blogging from writing. Posts like this are part of the running dialogue I maintain with my fellow writers, and the posts that are becoming the body of my current novel make up the rest of what I send out, but in either case, it is you, my fellow writers who provide the feedback that is immediate and conversational in a way that solitary writing lacks.

Just as the moon draws the tides as we draw down the moon, this life that flows between us connects us as we connect with the One.

If all things return to the One, to where does the One return?


11 Responses to “A Cabin in the Woods”

  1. Wow…what an episode after episode. I sincerely hope all is getting better and that was the bottom. It is good to see you back here though. I can’t imagine what you have gone through. Take it one day at a time, moment to moment. Wishing you all the very best and more.

    • Thanks, Shirley…you too 😉

    • Shirley, I honestly apologize for not responding sooner, but circumstances as they are, I am glad to finally have electricity again, so I will be more prompt in my replies.
      I saw your blog briefly abut a week ago…I want to go back, maybe tonight to give it a good read. 😉

      • Thank you very kindly. I sincerely hope things are much better for you now 🙂

      • Wow! Visiting your website is like trying to see the Smithsonian Institute in one day…I tried to respond to your post about accepting the consequences of our actions (the one that quotes Lao Tzu and Gandhi) and when I tried to hit the “like” button, it took forever to load, because I have very low-tech, slow-speed telephone service here, so I decided to just let you know how much I liked what I saw before I got dropped…(I will go back later when my son is not trying to play “Battlefield IV”)…what I saw so far speaks to me on a very personal level philosophically and spiritually and I couldn’t wait to comment, other than to say that I see you already know how many people it takes to achieve world peace. 😉

      • Thank you for your very kind words. I am glad that you enjoyed my post entitled, The Worst and Best of Humanity. It was written as a message to myself actually. Wishing you all the best. Take good care 🙂

  2. eric keys Says:

    I noticed your absence and am glad you are back. I did telemarketing briefly. I hated almost every second of it but apparently I was pretty good at it.

    Blogging is a dialogue – or at least it has evolved into one. I suppose once can imagine a blog without comments, etc, that is not the way the medium has grown.

    I hope you are finding some peace.

  3. I knew I needed to have a peace about me to read your first post after such a long time away. ( I am an addict here ) As you said we are lovers of words to become lovers through words. What a dreamy concept that’s real. So, today, on the day I promised myself that I would abstain from dipping my fingers into all the delicious minds so I would get some important things in my world accomplished, here I am licking my fingers that drip of your honey.
    It sounds like you are of strong mind and I like your cabin in the woods. I often imagine being one of those people who live in mini homes – the size of a truck. Minimal things and all to give more room to living itself. Anyway, I’m glad I read this relaxed and not in a hurry as I knew I shouldn’t. I enjoy your words but you know that. xo, Jayne In my mind, Florida seems like a steamy sexy place of white sand , Hemingway’s bars and sunken treasure. I’ve never been there.

  4. LadyBlueRose's Thoughts Into Words Says:

    I always wonder if you are breathing as you write….
    I wondered what happen…I have been visiting Alice and the Mad Hatter myself…the Queen of Hearts makes the best tea LOLs
    Good to see you back..I will eventually catch up…
    Take Care…You Matter…

    • I am a great believer in deep breathing…but yes, sometimes I find myself holding my breath for long periods of time, unconsciously…it gives me “paws” to reflect on the fact that you sensed that…hmmmm.
      There is a Zen technique called “bamboo breathing” involving counting and consciously going into still breath, or dead-breath states, but it’s been along time since I even thought to practice it.
      Thanks for reminding me 😉

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