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I’ve been huddled in a soaking mass of wet down shivering for hours, I’ve reached my breaking point.  I get up, roll the whole mess into a ball and walk the short distance to the laundry room leaving everything in a pile.  My body is in near convulsions when I reach the spa. I’ll go in naked or just jump in with all my clothes on, I’m hypothermic.  The door is locked, rat fucked.  I go to the shower and my trembling hands have me dropping quarters everywhere, my dexterity is gone, I feel like a child trying to out a square block through a round hole.

The shower comes on after what seems an eternity my clothes in a pile on the disgusting floor, the water scalds me and I jump out turning the water to a much cooler temperature.  Ten quarters lasts five minutes, round two has me picking of my piles of dropped silver and putting them in the machine with a little more ease, it will take 40 quarters, more than I have used since February to shake the chill.  If I had more with me I would use them.

I’m tired, my world is blurry, I head back to Sookie, a place I’m nearly forbidden to go and retrieve more quarters and laundry soap, make a cup of coffee and head back to wash and dry my pathetic wet mess.  My new tent is still AWOL.  I feel like a criminal sneaking around, after a long day of work I limp up to the boat to asses removing her bowsprite.  I haven’t been there ten seconds when I hear a voice, it’s the yard manager.Your not living on your boat are you? 

This is total BS I confirmed with them before hauling her that I would be on and around the boat doing little projects all summer.  Before hauling I contacted just about every yard in the Salish Sea, every one of them said I could stay aboard Sookie for the summer while working on her, everyone but the one I foolishly chose. The hotel who’s property is twelve feet from the boatyard offered to let me store Sookie there so I would have a bed and a platform to work from but the yard flat out denied my request to put Sookie on the other side of the road.  Now I feel like I have to sneak around the yard even if I want to grab a snack or do a project, the thought of wasting my summer working on the boat was bad enough but leaving the island? Impossible!

I could have anchored out but a damp lonely summer working for my freedom and getting nothing done on the boat didn’t seem any better that leaving ths islands.  I have the nicest boat in the yard and also the best maintained, my work space is spotless, I pay all my bills on time or in advance, I don’t play loud music do drugs or any single thing that could annoy them other than to simply exist.

The sun is peeking it’s head over the horizon it’s blowing like stink, thunder rumbles overhead, I’m chilly but huddled up in a comfy beach chair very happy this night if hell is all behind me.. Sitting in the lazy evening light, last night was beautiful beyond compare.  It was almost balmy, golden rays showered my world, lighting crackling in the distance as big black clouds rolled and formed into eiry looking monsters, then the first drops fell from the sky.  I’m tired, worn out and near my breaking point, or at least wondering if I have one.  I feel close now, to knowledge if in no other way knowledge of who I am and what I’m capeable of. I fantasize about sitting in a heated office with a mortgsge and debt up to my ears, a safety net against myself.  I cute little house with a white picket fence and 2.4 kids, who are fucking kidding…

“I have need of angels. Enough hell has swallowed me for too many years. But finally understand this–I have burned up one hundred thousand human lives already, from the strength of my pain.” 

― Antonin Artaud

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