7 & 1/2 Acres

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2004-08-07 - 1:41 p.m.

I wrote an entry this morning and then lost it so I got a rage on and cleaned the fuck out of this house. I hate house cleaning. I used to like it--the sorting and reorganizing of things. But, of years late, it's just another damn chore.

Studying for this test is a damn chore. Next Friday I'm driving down to Smarr, GA to see if I know enough to become a certified arborist. Truthfully, I'm a bit excited and anxious. I feel like this will be an achievement. The MFA, the two bachleors...they weren't nothing. But to get this certification...now that might be something. We'll see.

Learning.

Twelve parts and I don't know how many IDs. It's multiple choice so I've got that in my favor. The ole number 2 pencil. Been a while since I've used one of those.

So, I think I'm about centered again. Sometimes it just hits, that this is where I am...where I stand, where I work, where I go home to at the end of the day, who I talk to, where I sleep, and who I sleep with. Sometimes it's not real. It feels as if it's happened overnight and that it has been this way for a very long time. It's deeply familiar and sometimes I feel like a stranger in my own life. Last night I was weary from the week's worth and so smoked up, stretched, and then listened to Back Porch Music. That fella, whatever his name is (no disrespect meant!) played the Carter Family, Gillian Welsh, Emmylou, Led Belly, and boy, it sounded good. I just sat in the dark, listening. The whirlwind ceased and I was present.

And then I dreamed of tornados. That Will had me on belay and I was to jump off this nine story platform into the tree tops. The branch I was to grab was going to be a long reach and I wasn't sure I could do it.

And then there were horses and this Mexican family with horses of their own on a plot of land adjoining my fictional property. I waved and shared greetings? And then saw the multiple tornados blazing through farm fields. I herded the horses into a ravine then ran for my parents farm house where I rousted my dad who was sleeping and in his pajamas. I signed to him, Emergency! Emergency! (and now I remember my mom waking me in the middle of the night, signing the same thing, an E back and forth--my dad having a diabetic reaction and for me to run and call 911). I threw Harold in a pillow sack and dragged my dad for the ravine with Harold over my shoulder.

My entry this morning was much different. It was about rich people and watching Ghandi. But that entry is lost and it'd be futile to try and retype it. Its gist was this--learning.

I reckon I best learn the difference between the Two-Wing Silverbell and the Carolina, and then all them Hickorys.

I'm glad this place is here.

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