The Amygdala Knows

As someone who moved from bustling metropolis Whittier, CA to rural Talkeetna, AK, this article interested me.  I'm having a better time in a town with two bars than I did during my year-and-a-half stay in San Francisco.

Solstice Sunset

Solstice Sunrise

But Without My Dogs, Weapons and Drugs, Who Am I?

The Fairview's rules.  I like the flower.

I Just Got Lucky

Guest: If, hypothetically, someone were to find four-leaf clovers on one of your trails, and they wanted some scotch tape to hypothetically press them in, would that person be able to get scotch tape here at the desk?

Me: If you bring me one.

Camping

In Sum

We were lazy people on an adventure, flirting with life but too shy to go all the way.
--A Fraction of the Whole, Steve Toltz

We All Carve RED SOX Into Our Bedroom Doors

The Bulgarian janitor says, "Americans love to travel, can't stay living in one place." 

This is his third summer in Talkeetna.  Because the Americans he's known are seasonal workers, he thinks all of us are Cher in Mermaids.  "Death is: dwelling on the past, or staying in one place too long."  Sitting in the bathtub with a drink, closing our eyes and pointing a soapy finger to a map to decide where we're running to next.

Knock Knock, Who's There, Amos

I realized my instinct not to kill mosquitos with my bare hands (paper towel! shoe!) was a handicap in the summerlong war against Them in My Room, biting me while I am asleep.  Stinging?  I just looked it up.  I guess they "string with their mouths."  

So I got rid of it, the instinct, and now I don't have to look away to find something to smash them with.  My aim is better and quicker.

I don't like to wipe them off the wall right away.  Grotesque tally marks.  Oh my gosh... I just realized that's why hunters put deer heads on their wall.  It's the same thing.  I can no longer judge them.  Let ye who has not left dead mosquito guts on their wall a few days cast the first stone. 

Bird River Cloud

Art tries to impress you; nature doesn't.

Then I Yawned

This morning I talked to a janitor from Bulgaria as he mopped past the front desk.  He has another job, as a busboy at a restaurant in town.  He told me that there's one day a week where he works 36 hours straight on only 3 hours of sleep. 

I was impressed.  I said, "You're not afraid of hard work."

"No," he agreed.  "Work is power.  More work, more power."

Thousands of Words

Boxcar

Work

 

Halo

Moted

 

There's Also a Mosquito Bite on My Middle Finger

"Where's my planner?  I need to look at a map of July," I thought accidentally, meaning calendar.

The mosquito bite on my wristbone right next to my watch is the worst one because when my watch bumps it it says, "That feels good.  Almost like you're scratching me.  You should scratch me, that would feel even better."  It has a whispery voice that my conscious mind doesn't notice right away, that my unconscious mind blindly obeys.  "Exercise and eat right," my mosquito bites don't whisper.  Could they breed mosquitoes to improve the demands of their poison?

Angela Ball Wrote a Book of Poems About Me

Things I Have Not Said to Guests Vol. 1

Guest: What time is check-out?

Me: You can check out any time you like... but you can never leave.

Amazon Marketplace Found Poem

Good paperback.
Cover has creasing, curling, and scratching.
Spine is bumped, chipped, and creased.
Interior pages have creasing, curling, and tanning.

Prompt shipping guaranteed.