“We know when we are not wanted, Mr. Buck. We got enough oil, water, tree, and agriculture trouble. We are cashing in our chips. You tell Miss Pierrot – we want nothing to do with that damn gallery. What do we know about art, anyways? When the bank took our land, we knew we were licked!“
I awoke with a spiritual hangover – and my blood-sugar reading was 115. Wow!
Have I done Herman Melville? Stevenson is lurking on the Carmel Horizon with the New Ark of California?
.Our native State – is dying! Seeing I own the Rose Line Grail, I talked about making Two Avalons….one on the Isle of Man, and the other in Carmel, which is depicted as an Enchanted fog-bound Isle, that in the other reality, is not connected to the rest of California, somehow. C.L. Lewis is going to be employed – and J.R. Tolkien, in what can be described as a Another Back To The Land Movement, that Ed Corbin and Katrine took part in. Consider the naming of their tree sons; Cosmos, Freeman, and Eden.
There is going to be a Life Celebration, and I will be there with my grandfather’s self-published Arcadian books. He was a Back-to-the-Lander! How he got to California from Montana or, Missouri, was not captured. All who may have known, are dead. His wife came to California on the back of a motorcycle – all the way from Iowa! I want to do a painting of that. If Christine had -lived – we could have painted side by side in the Rosamond Gallery Courtyard, while tourists applauded. The truth is, Christine adored me. I was the love of her life.
I was going to take a week off to start my portraits of my Reluctant Muse, Lara Roozemond, whose ancestor was FLORIS ROOZEMOND, a name synonymous with the Rose Grail I found three days ago. But, I peeked at the news, and saw this image. I am doing something right, and, I am very reluctant to take – any credit – because there is a history of me being hammered when I go to take something for myself. Their is a ancient Greek Tale about a very wise man who made the gods jealous, so he is cursed. The powers that be set a banquet for him, and, when he sit down to enjoy it – DOWN SWOOP TWO HARPIES!
There is no rest for the wicked. I challenged the owner of the Carmel Pine Cone to go to Rocky Point with the staff photographer, but – HE CLOSED HIS EYES! We all want to dine on the truth, but……The Harpies ate your baby!
“Behold california, colossus of the West Coast: the most populous American state; the world’s fifth-largest economy; and arguably the most culturally influential, exporting Google searches and Instagram feeds and iPhones and Teslas and Netflix Originals and kimchi quesadillas. This place inspires awe. If I close my eyes I can see silhouettes of Joshua trees against a desert sunrise; seals playing in La Jolla’s craggy coves of sun-spangled, emerald seawater; fog rolling over the rugged Sonoma County coast at sunset into primeval groves of redwoods that John Steinbeck called “ambassadors from another time.””
“Come! Get on the Ark I and God has made for you!”
This is why Trump – could not have lost the election, because, they were in the middle of a mass evacuation.
Ed graduated from Harvard and was a very intelligent man. He dropped out of his Country Dream, and was heading to where I just came from. I did not tell Ed where I lived, because he would have become very jealous. It looked like I would die – CHILDLESS! Ed, studied me, what that was like. When my daughter came into my life, my best friend, was very unhappy, and, not supportive at all.
Last night, it dawned on me Ed and I were Hans and Otto, two German twins that are walk-ons. Alas, my novel that got me sober – has an ending! I hope to stand at a podium, and, tell Ed’s family the secret of who Ed was, and, who we were. This will be a literary ending. I was Ed’s discovery, one day, riding my bicycle – in Broken Alley! I am, the Un-published Broken One!
Unto the poor, blinded king of Thrace,With broad wings, human neck and face,They flew swiftly and cawedLeaving Phineus awed—Unable to give meaningful chase.
To his Court came spirits of the wind,Sharp and sudden gusts—no man’s friend.Harpies, as they are known,Make men reap what they’ve sown,And little can be done to defend.