The Last Fly of Fall

Even though we had a good freeze not too long ago, I saw a sign of summer last night. Buzzing about in my tiny living room, a fly. I know better than to take off my sweater, summer is a long, long way off; but I dream. The fly is wearing long stockings and a muffler that flaggs behind. Gloves and earmitts and a turquoise down vest. A broad, tooth-filled grin under bug-eye goggles. It snickers and glees as it dives and turns through the wasteland and canyons of my writing desk; between the african violet and the lamp and the pencil cup. Stopping to adjust a stocking, a wee rest and OFF again zooming and gliding and barreling about.
It leaves me alone, unlike the kamakazi flies of autumn last. They would sniggle into my beard and fuzzle at the corner of my eyes, begging to be taken out and joking and jiving in a teenage gangish way, watch me, Alonso, I can make that guy slap himself. And I did slap myself and missed, nearly broke my glasses. Nearly broke the serious silence of the task at hand, thinking and abstracting in a distant region of my mind.
We had a swift and furious storm that brought leaves from another town and moved our fallen leaves nearly to Canada. Trashcans went mobile and rolled to distant blocks, helping the neighbors to get together, swapping lids and storm tales. Big, proud trees knocked down like bowling pins and out over the Pacific another storm lined up. We are nailing down the roofs and keeping one eye out for a weather change. I slept through most of it and awoke to a town with no electricity. I saw the flashes and heard the booms of electric line transformers overloaded and defeated.
The thin veneer of convenience stripped away, I saw my town differently. Teen boys in t-shirts celebrated no-school on skateboards, oblivious to the cold. Freedom can be a warm blanket and what is inconvenient to most, a source of delight to some. Without electricity, time stood still, routine broken. The best of two worlds, a return to simpler times and a new look at what we have.

the storm

We had a bad blow of a storm a couple of days ago. Yesterday we had no power untill mid-afternoon, lucky us, some are not going to have power for days and days. It certainly changed my routine, as I am really hunkered down now. We tried to open the cafe, made Cowboy coffee and hot water for tea on a camping stove. Then the electricity got restored and it was back to normal life. While it lasted, it was fun.

Soup and bread for dinner

We did a fundraiser for the cafe last Wednesday and not only did we have great food, but the generosity of the diners was notable. We raised nearly $400, bringing the total of the "ransom fund" to $900. We had used some of the money for paying the power bill, the rest will be held untill Gretchen has to pay taxes. So that should help her attitude and go a long way to getting the old Gretchen back.

Indian drumming

It starts this time of year. The drumming. Drifts across the channel at night, loud and insistent. It is the Swinomish People continuing their old traditions. They gather in a big building and drum and dance and work their magic, a magic that we white folks are oblivious to. We watch T.V. We are spectators. They are creators.
Once, I heard the drums and followed a yearning. I was incredibly drunk and without inhibitions. I felt the need for something cohesive. I went to where the drumming came from. By the back door I entered their church, uninvited and under the influence of a drug that they had battled with for centuries. I saw a glimpse of what they do there.
Of course, I was ejected.

So what is it that I was seeking, in my "state". What are we, as "civilized" folks, missing? I wonder what place inside of us, an empty place, there is that we need to fill with some primal chant.

I still long for that. With all that I have, I am empty.

The cloning of Gretchen

This is a series I wrote to create some controversy in order to help raise some money for Gretchen, the deserving proprietress of the "save my life" cafe.

A TERRIBLE THING HAPPENED last saturday. Gretchen was abducted by armed gunmen and replaced by a clone.
A ransom demand was made. For a paltry $2000 the real gretchen will be returned to us. Needless to say, we are negotiating with the abductors over the pricetag. (Never pay retail)
In order to strengthen our negotiating position, we need a respectable wallet of cash. (The abductors are capitalists)
So, if you want the real Gretchen back, not this beechy, grumpy, whining clone, please vote for her with your dollars.
Honestly;
Roberto
Chairman of the Get Gretch Back Committee

Part Two:

IT KEEPS GETTING WORSE!!
Roberto went to meet with the armed kidnaping capitalists to negotiate a discount on Gretchens' ransom.
When he returned he was uncharacteristically happy, bright and cheerfull. Those cloning capitalists had replaced him with a clone too.
Damn. We are going to miss his grumpy, pouting and withdrawn self. The good news is that the ransom demand was discounted to a mere $100 AND it's a two for one deal. We get them both back for 50% off. (If we act quickly)
Truthfully;
Michael
Treasurer, Get Gretch Back Committee

Part Three
IT JUST GETS WORSE AND WORSE!!
I left the cafe where Roberto's happy clone was grinding coffee and being unlike his real self, WHEN I ran into the real Roberto. He was mad. He had escaped from the clutches of the capitalist cloning kidnappers. He told me that the kidnappers were aliens and they are going to ship Gretchen off to some distant petting zoo, as she is a prime specimen (speciwoman?) of Nordic womanhood. They would have sent her off, but she is just too skinny, so they are putting weight on her. The recipient aliens are slimy multi-armed spoiled-clam-smelling creatures that like to touch and feel stuff. We have to rescue Gretchen from this miserable fate!!
PLEASE, help get Gretchen back before she gets too fat and sent offf to that horrid petting Zoo.
In all Truth;
Treasurer G.G.B.C.

WELL, my life is in the TOILET.
The clone that the aliens replaced me with, somehow got credit cards(maxed out), a bank loan and borrowed money from all my friends and from people I have never even heard of. All my tools are in a pawn shop.
I am ruined. Cloning is not a good idea, let me tell you. No wonder that clone was in such a good mood.
I found out that the only protection from the aliens is a high blood-alcohol level, as it makes one invisible to the aliens. That's been usefull, but the hangovers are HELL.
So, I got rid of my clone and am trying to put my life back together. Meanwhile, Gretchen is gaining weight and her clone is getting meaner. Don't be fooled!!
Truly
Roberto,etc.

Note: so far we have raise $400 to help pay the bills.

Ransom Gretchen

Winter brings with it higher heating bills and Gretchen, the proprietress of THE CAFE, here on the south side of La Conner, gets real stressed trying to make make ends meet in the face of higher utility bills. So to urge the cavalry to come to the aid of a beleagered sweetheart, we have been asking for donations to help with the extra costs.
As it turned out, a little joke I made became the basis for a plea for help. I've been writing some stuff about a kidnapping of Gretchen and a demand for ransom. The story evolved ever more preposterous and the humor seems to help loosen pursestrings, along with the enormous goodwill that Gretchen has acrued.
We are planning a couple of fundraisers and the group has responded with generosity and creativity. So far we have $250. Marilyn Johnson brought in some stocking caps she knitted, sold by donation to go into the "ransom fund". We are planning to have a soup, bread and desert dinner on the 13th and we have some volunteers to make dishes. There will be some other events and permutations.