Jibberish

Transition and testament

fae — Fri, 30 May 2008 05:08:29 GMT

Lovers twined in my imagination- free woman not yet again. BUT soon. so so so soon to be moving my own day to day finding my own way Life like clay molded or sculpted to the ideal finishing touch First reaching out to grab at the ugly muck then patiently putting each crease in its place, eye to finger details, imagination retraced Forming from the mind Then turning in circles to examine probabilities A job well done. I am not done. Not done done done- still so long to go where I end up I hope is the direction my river flows. River overflows in tiny spring rain amid years of drought and my love brims not wanting to pick and choose instead finding will to embrace the luxury of rich life beauty in this rich life beauty in others and beauty in our souls knowing one another! I hear the mountain dulcimer play--

Summer 'as come

fae — Sat, 17 May 2008 04:03:02 GMT

Walking forest paths- hot hot in the springtime drought. Ought to find out Y this natures gone awry. Hopping along crimson-pollen encrusted creekside, over tiny toad bodies, and decaying pollywog sands. Dam has closed up again. Trickle does the water flow down to the Yuba where it grows- but still low, no out tide, just no rain. Joyous company among worldly counsels, Augusta employs Me again. I am inspired and ready, a tough tot to trist. I argue my way and gain inspiration. I, Maidu Chief Burning Moth- to the kiddies. Weaving crafts teach, of community, encroachment, past wrongs... I enjoy the look in each their eyes, of innocent disbelief.

Where I have been

fae — Thu, 01 May 2008 21:03:36 GMT

May Day- a secret day for creeping among forest leaves and frolicking past neighbor's doorsteps. The right of abandonment to the creations of springtime celebration: "oh!" "awe" say They, as opening their door, to find daisy chains-weavings-cards-and childhood grandeur of staples and drying glue. A favorite time of year. As absolutely odd as it feels to find myself smack dab in the middle of spring after traveling Latin America through Fall to Summer to Fall. I do not reccommend flying from one side of the equator to another. For many days after such an unnatural journey through the air, Earth feels funny from the core of my bones, and every step becomes unsure, like I might wobble sideways into the abyss of outer-space! I am readjusting to life in "the States" but have come to terms with the fact that, in my perception, this culture has forever changed. The hegemonic attributes of our life here on the West coast has been disrupted by the lifestyles I lived for a short time with the peoples of Guatemala, Honduras, Costa Rica, Panama, Colombia, Ecuador, Peru, and Chile. Though, to categorize these 'lifestyles' I speak of, it is necessary to forget borders and to pay closer attention to the regions. I learned of life in the plateau jungles, the temperate forests, the lowland desert, the rainforest, the amazon rivers, the Carribean coast, the high desert of the Andes, and the Temperate climates of the Andes as well. I learned of life with the Lencas, visited with the Garifuna, even wandered the pueblos of the Quechua people in the chilly mountains of Ecuador, and the forests of the Amazon jungle, in the Andes of Peru and in the high desert of Chile; descendants of the Spanish, African, Mayan and Inca peoples. This western world of ours has changed for me forever. Now, I can think in Spanish, and remember the rhythm of the ancient sounds of Inca language. There is now perfect awareness of a whole new language and another way of life. Leaking into my own life, it is a new world into which I have returned. I have come home, but I am different.

Pixelated Record

fae — Tue, 15 Jan 2008 15:04:11 GMT

Hello to all of you in cyberspace. Just wanted to let you know that I regularly update my blog, and have also begun to upload images of my Southward excursion. Please take a look, and stay in touch! http://AdventureSouthwards.blogspot.com For a slideshow of my images: http://s248.photobucket.com/albums/gg179/Temramoth/?albumview=slideshow Love and bliss Tamoura

lalala, yeah headin to Humboldt

fae — Wed, 31 Oct 2007 04:25:59 GMT

Lovely Arcata, I will be in your woods on Thursday, November 1st for a few days. Maybe we can adventure. I miss your kind souls and liberal spirit. 530 559 4244. This number will be disconnected when I depart overseas on the 13th, so it is your last chance to call. boa noite

Adventure Southwards

fae — Mon, 22 Oct 2007 05:43:35 GMT

http://adventuresouthwards.blogspot.com/ If you are feeling a little nostalgic for all those fun times we shared in the past, trying to procrastinate on a term paper, wondering what the wilds of Central and South America smell like, or maybe you are a bit curious about my overseas exploring, then check on my blog at http://adventuresouthwards.blogspot.com/ and give me a Haloo! (this photo is from Captain Cooks Point in Kona, Hawaii 01/2004)

31 days and counting

fae — Sun, 14 Oct 2007 06:04:57 GMT

Oh lala, An excursion through Central and South America! Departure date is Tuesday, November 13th Yes, I have been saving every penny for over a year now. I have begun making thoughtful purchases of walking boots ( http://www.earth.us/comfort.asp ) a Voyager bag ( http://www.meivoyageur.com ) a sleeping bag ( http://blackbearhardware.com/snugpak91080.html ), an AtWater towel, a spanish to english phrasebook, and platypus water bag. I have also decided to pack along tea (Nettles, oatstraw, rose hips, corriander, red raspberry leaf, calendula, lemongrass), my trusty tinctures (White Willow bark, Valerian, Oregano Oil), Vitamineral Green, Arnica and the clothes on my back. Manuel and I will be traveling for five months from Antigua, Guatemala (by bus, foot and boat) into South America and returning to the states on April 10th from Lima, Peru. We plan on attending an immersion program in Antigua, trying to make it from Panama to Colombia by charter boat before xmas (there is a BIG party on Christmas Eve), searching through the South American Explorer's club ( http://www.southamericanexplorers.org/ ) archives for little known trail routes to Macchu Picchu and other Inca ruins. We want to sleep under the open sky, walk through some of the last standing nearly unexplored wilderness, test our limits against the elements, and return in good heart and health. Love and Bliss!

on da road again....

fae — Tue, 21 Aug 2007 05:10:21 GMT

Hello Arcata citizens. Though many many many of you may be dislodged elsewhere due to the Black Rock City events I am hoping to drip drop into town after the Woman's Herbal Symposium sometime on the 3rd of September. I hope you miss me -- so give a shout-- cause I miss yous!

I happy jig

fae — Sun, 05 Aug 2007 08:10:27 GMT

I am working as Art HERO for Camp Augusta. It is my dream job. Not only am I continuing to be a part of this a very friendly, hard working, community oriented, playground in the forest, with intelligent children and peers, but they are honoring my request for the very fun and extremely intoxicating position. I get to be in charge of the whole freakin' arts program. Yes. I get to teach art all day and decide what crafts are available, what materials we use, and any time I feel like making art it is part of my job. I get to fire the ceramic kilns, and say 'yes' to the kids who want to hang out at the craft shack all day and make whatever their fancy is. I get the freedom to define my position. I get to live at the craft-shack and muse over candle making, and mix tie dye chemicals. I get my nights off. 16 hours days are easy after Counseling for three sessions. Being a camp counselor is like being five different Mom's for five children for 24/7 and most the time the kids do not like you or appreciate you. As Art HERO, only the kids who love me need be around me. And I get to play with fearies in the forest all day. I get to swim in my creek as I eat lunch. I get to find out more and more about myself. I am challenged every day. I fail and succeed. And I am supported by the bunch of hard working, honest and clever individuals who make up camp Augusta. They are from every origin of the globe.We are all learning to improve in multiple areas of interest. I get to fire dance, the children do too. I get to play with all the impalement arts (swords, archery, hatchets, knives, sling shots, air darts, rifelry...), the children do too. I get to continue to teach bareback riding and horse grooming early in the mornings (because the Horse whisperers, Kelly and Grace, love me around....I bring them watermelon and laughs). And if you are curious, you can find out more about all this at http://www.campauguta.org or come and visit me! Missing you ARCATA. Perhaps we will meet in September after the Woman's Herbal Symposium. Also, I will be in Piedmont (near SF) this coming weekend of the 11th, so give me a message on my voicemail (you saved the number I hope) if you are in that area. Love and Bliss! Tamoura

Fire dancing debutes potential in the hills

fae — Thu, 12 Jul 2007 05:52:56 GMT

Oholalalalala and so the crazy noises of camp and sleepers sleep sleeping and all the out-housed staff mingle in the starry night from overseas and it amazes me the commitment, the complete virtue, the creative efforts, and the indeterminate amount of responsibilities and love that we each invest in the young souls of these Northern California foothills. Fourth of July: 10 foot phoenix rises. We march in procession to the excitement escalating in night and I fire my flaming bright arrow- penetrates the heart- deeply wrapped in my hopes of a wild and prosperous future. Fire. Fire. They dance with fire here. Yes they do. And I do too!

Eating Moths

fae — Tue, 10 Apr 2007 19:02:06 GMT

It has been eight months since I left the sweet embrace of the Arcata community in Humboldt. Even as I think of you all still so fondly now, I must admit I have been peacefully happy and harmonious back in the forest in which I grew my first wings. Here, there is beauty all around me. As many of you may remember, I was never too involved in the social realms of the world, and so being away from large populations of young in-the-know and happening people (such as yourselves) isn't as hard for me as it might be for many others. I spend a lot of time by myself basking in the beauty and splendor of sunlight and majestic creeks. I still talk to insects, but now have deer, fox, blue jay, robin, cougar, skunk, squirrel, bob cat, and otter as my companions. My income is mostly comprised of private work for hire. I make good money teaching art to Waldorf-schooled children and also babysit a six month and three year old. My wind chimes are also doing well (in a store and my window), yet I am still reluctant to part with them as I have not found the means to create more. Recently, I was hired for pre-season at a local camp (less than a mile from my home), and if all goes well I will be living there this summer and hopefully creating a community for myself to remain once my childhood home is sold this summer. Camp Augusta is a remarkable place where people from all over the globe culminate in a joint effort to improve the urban situations of youth in America today. Most campers are from Peidmont, but the staff consists of South American, African, Russian, Yugoslavian, Canadian, New Zealander, Australian, and ... peoples who want to travel and invest their time into future generations. I feel extremely privileged to have been selected to become a part of this effort (teaching arts and crafts, ceramics, and movement), and am even excited to find that among my 300 hours of training I will be learning fun skills like archery, riflery, non violent communication, life guarding, Native American practices, Indian painting, canoing, rock climbing, mining, horseback riding, and extensive other activities. On the other side of my creek from Camp Augusta is a man who has stolen my heart as no other can. Perhaps it is because we have shared the same forest our whole lives (my after school Falls companion and almost prom date). He is minstrel and magician, fur trapper, farmer, hippy (not the dirty Arcata kind, we have a certain clean productive breed here in the country), romantic, and a rock hopping river nymph like myself. Much of my funds have been going into a savings box for future travels to Barcelona (English as a second language certification?) and New Zealand (Masters from Rudolph Steiner University in Youth Education?). It is unclear when I will get a chance to reemerge in Humboldt, but that will most likely be after I return from other continents next year. I love you & miss you all. And thank you for not forgetting me, and giving your support. Peace and bliss ~

not so good

fae — Wed, 04 Apr 2007 22:57:26 GMT

Today I built a wind chime. Hung it in the apple over love ridden garden and weeds. Today I watched this house becoming a for sale object despite mine own interest and needs. Today I broke his guilty bracelet strung it through my heart. Today I watered poppies made progress with my art. Today I am so hollow I watch this candle burn burn burn down drip on mossy young maple forest ground. I had felt so rich and splendor filled me high. Wrong in threes. Lucky 13 did me unease. Sick feeling. Money losing. Death tarot makes me wonder if Owl Fox Otter gone to be stupider. I wonder if he did her. All in this recent perfect-fall.

.

fae — Wed, 28 Mar 2007 04:28:02 GMT

tiny Toes tiny EYEs she cries. I, her servant, am at the warming task, making milk to ooze then drip drip drip down throat and slobber about those tiny LIPS. Maggie. so young. she likes pulling on plants laughing at doggie tugtugging hair Mozart my voice.

Currency Fiction

fae — Sat, 03 Mar 2007 06:08:35 GMT

money grubbing stashing hoarding. NOT enough Enough to escape this familiar continent land elsewhere Return? find Myself manifesting adventures of dreamland whimsies dwindling human populace growth animal kingdom conquer find forage gather respect thank fill evolve breath gesture-mortality invincibility-refrained. find Enough of myself to carry this river with me wherever I roam. find Enough land to sprawl upon granite Earth moss and fear faint inklings of Fae near. Enough Enough Enough of this blasphemous strain to participate in todays society Frame of materialism and values unstrung. values Restrung cook eat grow thrive along my days make that my work and encourage monetary values to sicken chill then fall undone.

Unbroken Paper Box

fae — Sat, 17 Feb 2007 04:39:25 GMT

Swishhhswosh. Ooowa. Bambam. Weeia. Beads ribbon fish fae trollop along under vehiclular mirror. Journeys on Journeys on Journeys on. Years. Y E A R S they have been taken along. Small faded box. Made of many paper squares. The love. The L O V E it held? Small chrysalis. Tiny womb. Fragile cocoon. Unbroken and bound within. Hanging, longing. Freedom comes- - - - - - - F R E E D O M Sun. Light shines early morning river side cold granite cold water warmsome breaths and song. Let it go- - - - - - F L O A T S . Down current. Sinks under ripple tide. Out of sight. Goodbye Again! I smile. love. understanding. (at last). R E L E A S E .

Goodbye Audrey

fae — Wed, 31 Jan 2007 05:02:59 GMT

SHE was a twirling constant in my young adult lifetime. Spinning me around roadways -through the vast indecisiveness -of earlier town dwelt domains. From virgin to pixie [drugs, young lust, and booze]. Freedom hauling it to the San Fan night life-- merely 16-- we sped along the narrow coastline, listening to Fugees, Tori, Portishead, Chilli Peps, Blondie, Poe. Red lipstick bleached hair. Smoking joints of New Testament while passing under a small town car wash killing time. We sang in the unending night between Santa Cruz and Arcata. Brushing fog over 20 -- melting down 101. Up! over the long hill of 5. LA to Oregon. We prayed over ice covered roadways and blizzards of deathly snow. I lay naked on her hood in the summer nights heat heavy with wine. Dancing doors splayed open parking lot grit between my toes. Police pushing arrest on her passenger door. River in winter growing high. Ash filling over Mutant Fest and in heat the engine complains. She, with her soul and blinking wipers that never worked in the rain. With her ballerina movie star name. Another era passing my teens into twenties and on-- a goodbye to my blue locomotion with those rubbed-off, faded stars in rear view mirror reflecting under the setting foothill sun.

Adventuring the deer

fae — Mon, 22 Jan 2007 05:00:50 GMT

Hhhmmmmmm- time tinkles slowly into my morning window a.light with yellow and gold and string-ribbon-crystal !flash! Mate' and woodfire burn burn burning low and then high. I see the sun moving through the sky in this midday winter's light I trek into forest like doe to meet the Fae on trail of broken twig and decrepit leaf vaguely showing me some way. Stick sliiiiiiiiiiiiiiides over frozen pond, creek water runs so low from this years rain never found. Willow twigs bursting green and grass beneath the duff. Daphney lingers on whissspping air. Over under and up a steeply eroding bank---!---find a safer way to fall, then up up UP! Muscles withering, shaking breath into Lindsey's yard. She says I was a deer and I smile to say so too. "Best water here" from the porch of solar powered existence behind dripping chain saw fresh with gasoline and firewood sap. A giant cracked granite rock mediates towards Apple tree just down the way. I say Thank yous and I O Us then head out to the road towards sound of fast cars whizzing by nearly a couple miles back to home.

E_eek!

fae — Fri, 19 Jan 2007 06:56:37 GMT

This is tribute to a certain freaky guy I know..... Missing you! ~taken from http://www.francesfarmersrevenge.com/stuff/freaks/index.htm

Full sized bed

fae — Wed, 20 Dec 2006 05:18:12 GMT

Lazy night. I in a cozy nook of Arm. Phone rrrrrrrrrings. She flew in with the sunshine over these Nevada County hills. Portland rain still in her hair. "Pick me up." Dazzled under red eyeshadow and genuine crystal around my neck, dancing shoes upon my feet. Arm in arm He owl feather tickle my cheek. Mekka in the late night, always locking me in. Like I am some sort of member to the secretly cool possy of the half block of bohemian Nevada City sin. Some wonderment to my coming Mad Tea Party bonfire, and love to my changing name. I feel enraptured by warm hugs and smiles, and my best friend at my side again. We decide this is recipe for a late night, and get ourselves some wine. Head over to my house with the fire and each paw joints in hand. There is drunken wavering hillarity, ruleless gaming and good times. My bed is full full full in the morning light pouring in.

Schoolyard Ghosts

fae — Tue, 12 Dec 2006 05:07:44 GMT

Two. Crazy itty girls. Tromping at my side on red ledge and cracked sidewalk through the Ooold town streets in the winter light. Their pink and purple hoodies. Their tiny fingers pull my gigantic hands. I am playing in a school yard, once when I was only three and a half feet high, now when I am a tower over two weesley toddlers. We run. Laugh. A painted circle faded, hop scotch pavement overturned by tree roots and time. School children still laugh across the street. We find plums and peppers. Taste them, gussshhh gussshhh, spit them out!

A recent encounter of Owl and Fox in a night

fae — Fri, 08 Dec 2006 05:07:46 GMT

There was coarsing river under us, like always before, between the red granite spalding with quartz and he tells me of the oak and willow and all the country lingo I used to know. We find artifacts. Cast over in the last year casacading storms, and in his speculation I listen to the hilly drawl and wavering confidence, the patience I have always felt unaware of in our earlier playmate days when we silenced in awe of salamanders and the cold wet creeks. So much time gone since between us, like a new friend in my old friend. Now we take the overgrown path that curves suddenly backwards and up mountainside- to the top in time for sun descending and a romantic high five. He is Owl and Fox. We hear the whooowhoot and the red tail dash dash. Subtle spirituality over a roadkill after dancing hard all-night-long when deep brown-green eyes saturate. my sweating thump thump. and beat beat. my soul rhythm on a ride. Hot on bump bump makes my body wanna hump hump, but he, a gentleman as always, knows it is not yet time. So OUT! to the graveyard on the William Wilson grave-like Edgar Poe's story. Drunk on brandy chai and heat drinks of the old Creekside restaurant. Not a wanderer, but magician, and splendidly in the moonlight he asks, "can I call you again?"

Fae Stains Stationary

fae — Sat, 02 Dec 2006 19:55:55 GMT

Well. Though I am officially done with HSU and of my obligation towards prior artistic assignments, I have been keeping myself busy with art projects anyways. If anyone is interested in a hand made peice by moi and the Fae folk of my hometown forrest, you can get your hands on a one of a kind art card at the Accident Gallery on C st, Eureka. Proceeds support my art supplies and the gallery itself. Each card is a unique photographic exposure developed under the irredecent rays of sunshine itself. Each print has taken me countless hours of time and love and can not be recreated. I hope you have time to stop by and see my work at the next Arts Alive!

Blizzard Wandering

fae — Wed, 29 Nov 2006 22:37:42 GMT

We were on the road her and I like little eight year olds again, cept' in control of a fast moving locamotive & its whirling slippy wheels. We sped through the Sierra's, country girls savoring smells of frost and coming snow. There were vanilla oaks and moody clouds hot steam on the midnight hour naked in the falling snow. Good laughter and gathering in a firelit lobby with folk who were in-the-know. After a delicious hard boiled egg and toast feast, we laughed through Holiday traffic of the afternoon, learned some chain mechanics, spun off the road in the dark, were saved and lingered upon muddy pavement in pouring rain to remove the masculine rumbling snow grinders from the tire frames.

Sleeping in the Forest

fae — Wed, 08 Nov 2006 21:42:53 GMT

I thought the earth remembered me, she took me back so tenderly, arranging her dark skirts, her pockets full of lichens and seeds. I slept as never before, a stone on the riverbed, nothing between me and the white fire of the stars but my thoughts and they floated light as moths amoung the braches of the perfect trees. All night I heard the small kingdoms breathing around me, the insects, and the birds who do their work in the darkness. All night I rose and fell, as if in water, grappling with a luminous doom. By morning I had vanished at least a dozen times into something better. ~Mary Oliver

Between two train rides

fae — Tue, 07 Nov 2006 03:09:53 GMT

Portland Public transit. Sun shines in. Halloween on the trail stroke, roses on her nose. Tock tock beat our feet, hoofing it through miles of magik sand. Twilight or midnight, beers on the side. Faun Fables wellows- warming up to her Someday's neat beat. Majestic theaters, and chinese ballroom dances, take us home on our tail end of romances. Italian boys with mean intentions, hooking up with random bands. A whole land of gallery gypsy's, underground secret bar, stand. A train ride, dream slide. Keeps getting better, hope these journies never end.