what we do for love

the honeymoon phase. you can’t stop us.

bath time

ok. update. i'm not sure what is indeed charming about owning a sailboat in maine in the winter. let’s be real, having a boat attached to your deck is something like the coolest fort ever and the biggest metaphorical poke in the side every time you glance out the window. feed me, your time your love and all your money.

but we wanted to. right.

it was mild that december day we gave gracie a bath. say in the 40’s and pouring rain and as you can (or can’t) see, dark, so we set up the spotlights. i see now the Edison bulbs upstairs give the photo a gentle, festive air. aha. nope. and the power washer, so loud. and the smell, think abandoned fish market. and the mud.

this was perhaps still the honeymoon phase.

and then we pulled her diesel engine off. yep. best night of the honeymoon.

but it was, ok maybe not the best night, but we were determined. you can in fact walk right from our deck onto gracie (super rad); you can’t see her in her full glory because we built her a house. yes her very own house. i’m pretty sure mother nature has been trying to rip it down since we finished it on a frigid january day around 9pm. no ma’am. you can’t stop us.

but. we do love our boat. her bathing needs, her no engine, her house, and perhaps most of all,

her potential.

admittedly we haven’t been working on her as much lately. cold will ruin any honeymoon. then again, sometimes you just need a little sunshine, and our electric propulsion system arrived on monday! that’s right,

gracie’s going solar

so yea, for real. . . it’s expensive, time consuming and often overwhelming. but it’s also what we do for love. with determination, grace, goodwill and compassion. what we do is our future. our potential. . . our evolution, if just one part.

and maybe one dream, one boat, won’t make a difference. but i love this fragile life, this fragile earth, and

. our house is still standing .

change

the . new . girl

revolution . evolution

get . drunk . bear . down

fierce

showing a heartfelt and powerful intensity. wild

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front porch

she’s your dog

he says to me when she’s wild.

uncontrolled or unrestrained, especially in pursuit of pleasure

she listens and she defies. they all do.

she’s fierce. i say.

a direct reflection of her human.

i have not posted on this site since the fall of 2017, after we almost lost bean. i suppose i have lost and found myself a few times since then. often abandoning this project. re-dreaming it. contemplating what it is. what it isn’t. then reaffirming why i ought not justify everything. that its ok to wish you could text your dead dog. or hug her uncontrollably.

or write her letters. unrestrained

this is toulouse on the hopson plantation at the shack up inn in clarksdale mississippi. where Muddy Waters and Robert Johnson played the blues on their front porches after they farmed cotton for the military. i finally had this photo printed and cased. it arrived yesterday while i was drafting this; it now hangs over my desk.

the drunk bear was a project inspired by my life with touls. i think, when i don't think too much, our stories and aspirations are still fueled by her spirit. our memories. what my life was like then, and perhaps, what i wish it was more like now.

fierce and wild, intense and unrestrained, for all the right reasons.

but… pandemic. unemployment. social-political climate. fear. misunderstanding. we could go on. and on. and on. while we fell in love with the south, the owner of the shack up inn said ‘people used to be more like y’all, now we have to tell them to stop throwing their beer cans on the lawn.’ what?

but i get it now.

so i begin again. not in my van, but at my desk for now, to be more like toulouse, navy and bean in their intensity and compassion, their unconditional love and endless pursuit of happiness. until we hit the road again. challenge accepted. catch you on the flip side.

write. share. inspire.

poetry

stayfierce. staycurious. staywild.

hugyourdog

getdrunkbeardown

the miracle dog

love. determination and the fight to save bean. poetry in progress

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the quiet life

me and bean. cape cod. sept. 2012. 

his broad freckled chest now has a gnarly scar 

where he was stitched back together 

twice after the porcupine when

they cut his sternum bone in half 

again to remove the right front lung

lobe after they found

twenty-four quills in his heart

three in his lungs, forty

removed the first time

they performed open heart open 

lung surgery and he still 

didn’t heal nine days later

we brought him home in

critical condition after two 

nights of opioid torture in

the hospital parking lot we slept 

at a campground until he was stable

enough to make it home

where he could not be left

alone and his medication 

schedule was a short story

and his stitches became infected

the laundry constantly going to

rotate his t-shirt supply 

to keep him clean and his harness 

dry his sister constantly

by his side and

he healed as we 

fought against odds not in our favor to

keep him alive

after thousands of quills were 

pulled from his body they nicknamed

him the miracle dog

where we went for five weeks 

for check-ups and eventually it

was summertime

and he slept on the deck

sprawled on the couch his 

heart beating his lungs inflating

with salty air where he

swam and napped under 

the apple trees

where life re-formed

every breath no longer a fight 

but a reminder of

the value of the beat

the sigh and the light.

getdrunkbeardown

hugyourdog

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may 12, 2017      recovery

Toulouse

she's going to live forever. i told myself. 5.8.2006 - 9.30.2015 a real live teddy bear

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driftwood beach jekyl island feb. 2015 'shadows'

i never imagined my life without her.

the most loyal. selfless companion I have ever known. 

it began on a horse farm where I worked. like a shadow, she followed. everywhere. without a fuss. never in my way. toulouse? . . . of course. right here. 

i was accepted to college. we moved to our first apartment in nyc. 83rd st. west side. central park. my life unfolded, memories took shape. every day - the adventures of me and toulouse. ordinary enough. from time to time, unusual. when i wrote for school, she slept under my desk. when i wasn't studying, we did things together. all the time. central park was our yard. we wandered the streets - unleashed - metaphorically and physically. she never strayed. at a local watering hole, i joined the beer club. toulouse, the popcorn club. she established a profound love for salted kernals while i for hops. date night with touls. bodyguard. best friend. sidekick.

i went rollerblading. she came. running. she came. for a beer. she came. in a car. she came. to meet my boyfriend 35 blocks away. there she was by my side. she came almost everywhere.

“we” became we.

life became more unpredictable, we leaned on one another. move downtown. alphabet city. weekends upstate. horses to ride. family in maine. freedom in montauk. ongoing exploration. 

she turned five. i started grad school. murphy arrived - dancing machine. aka. bean. youth. . . yep. he kept her young.

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assateague national seashore feb. 2015 (toulouse near. murphy distant) 'keepin' her young'

ask anyone who ever met her, toulouse was extraordinary. rare. intensely devoted. bullet proof - a real live teddy bear. anywhere. any situation. she adapted. toulouse was a workaholic. her job, me. protect. support. love. soulmate. many of her traits were innate. i didn't train her to be. she just was. magical. exceptional. she was my rock. i was certainly hers. as my best friend once said, 'you speak to her in full sentences . . . but she understands.' of course.

when i started thedrunkbear, toulouse was the heart of my inspiration. years of full time work. a masters degree. the hustle of NYC. enough. all i wanted was to travel in our new van, nova, write poetry, take photos - spend every day with my dogs. i once told my mom i was going to buy a motorcycle with a sidecar and toulouse and I were going to travel together all over the country. seriously. in some ways, nova is that dream. the motorcycle became a van and the two of us became four of us.

toulouse's death was devastating and unexpected. thankfully she did not suffer. murphy spent his days asleep. refused to leave our city block. i cried. a lot. struggled with my writing, inspiration and art. home. . a vast emptiness. murphy stopped his dance moves and she wasn't here to make me laugh (or keep me from stressing over nonsense). another dog? a new home? nova with three? insomnia and sadness.

i took a hiatus from this project after her death. when i sat to write i shed far more tears than words. discouraged. yes. afraid. sure. but how better to cope, to move forward, than to pursue the dream she so inspired. get drunk. bear down.                                                                                                                

to the end of an era. . .

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maine coast may 8th 2015 - last birthday at the beach 'colorblind'

you were supposed to live forever

miss you. just you. cause there is no comparison.

come visit anytime. i dream a lot.

see you on the other side

xoxoxoxo

visit snapshots to see a few more. . .

'cause they party while we sleep

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thoughts on bears for inspiration. imagination. and clarification. 

bear bear. pictured above on the right was the first stuffed bear my dad bought me. into my stroller he went with size enough to hide my infancy. instant love.

corduroy. the other bear above left, came later. he reminded my dad of his own old bear, carried by the arm as a child - crookedly dangling with weighted feet. I did the same for years. 

every dream. every vacation. every sleepover. 

and still, they come on our adventures in nova. sometimes with friends.

i always believed my bears partied while i slept. raided the fridge. painted their faces. danced. filled the bathtub with water - pool party. perhaps they climbed out the window and went exploring. built forts. played cards. took a nap. who knows, maybe now bear bear and corduroy drink wine and philosophize. read my extensive poetry collection. write letters or discuss the fate of the planet. the fate of the bear. and yes. 

                                                                       i still believe it. 

                                                                       or imagine it. or

                                                                       live it. 

and no. it's not about getting tipsy. 'matter of fact it’s quite the opposite. see 2a for misconceptions and bear  here in stories. get drunk. bear down. is well. sort of like . .  get passionate. dive in. get happy. dance away. get creative. go create.

get drunk . bear down . enjoy the ride - ace

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'cause it fits in a parking spot. where we live.

bean lounge. (un)leash your dog. sleep anywhere. everywhere and . . . in between.

now that's the way to do it. 

all four of you fit in there? 

i could never do it. 

where do you sleep?

that's nova. aka, noves. the girl. she's 18 ft.

bean just turned 4, lazy boy.

and yea, people ask these questions all the time. and yea, we make ourselves fit. we also made a lot of changes. microwave out, books in. tv down, cable cut.  2 motorcycles, truck, car. . . gone. donate old i-don't-know-what. . . done. house on market. . . check. NYC studio . . still got it. 

travel. learn. explore. study. bar. culture. music. food. surf. fish. . . 

life?

still living. still learning.

you live in that thing?

no. 

where do you live?

nowhere. . . well, everywhere. but we have a studio in NYC. so that's where we live if you have to peg us. we travel in nova. did we live in nova this spring for 3 months? we slept in there - we lived wherever we were. before work started up in nyc we had to fix up the house. but it had no furniture so we stayed in nova in the driveway for almost a month. but sometimes we would go to our home in the city for a few days. so where did we live? 

with our dogs

in the grass

on the street

by the beach

in the lot

at the marina

with a cold beer

and good company. 

up the trail

along the creek

on the slope

down the hill

toward the end

in that spot

in our home

across the bridge. 

it's not for everyone to live in a van for any amount of time. to live on the road. to camp. to travel constantly. each week or every few days. OR to live in a house with a picket fence. to mow a lawn. to live on an island. to live in nyc. to have the same neighbors for 40 years. to live east or west or up or down. we could go on. but how often do we hear: where do you live? and is it ever: what do you live in? where do you sleep? where is your home? who makes it home? why is it home? where did you grow up? i mean. aren't we all still growing up and living each day. year. experience? don't we live everywhere . . .  ? 

another question we get all the time is where would we go? after all the places you've seen, where would you move to? settle down for a bit, you know, after nyc gets old. . .

hah. to buy a boat. that's where. 

get drunk. bear down. and do the nova dance.

love and vengeance. power in association.

co-pilot. genius. security system. teacher. best friend. this hug.

genius. 

stubborn. persistent. sweetest.

loyal.

always. hungry. brilliant. 

loyal. 

determined. brilliant. companion

you broke the mold girl

can’ t imagine the last nine years without you

may eighth was this beauty's birthday. it all began with a plane ride. then a house. maine. an apartment. maine. a house. another apartment. maine. another house. road trip. montauk. murphy. road trip. road trip. who knows how many moves and miles. and finally. 

the past fifteen weeks in nova 

from maine down to key west back up the gulf into louisiana to find my heritage up the mississippi into memphis through tennesee the smoky mountains kentucky horse country class five rapids in west virginia and back on the east coast in annappolis maryland into nyc and upstate and yes. that's right. maine for her birthday. 

this photo was taken in myrtle beach. that's me under the wool hat. the camera jonny used was stolen in memphis when nova was broken into while we walked toulouse and murphy to the mississippi riverfront. 

you’re being watched. he said.

highest crime rate in the country.  she said.

the reality of it all was, in fact, dangerous. so we left. sad and disturbed though simultaneously grateful. maybe it’s a matter of perspective or reflection, but what it comes down to is that toulouse. bean. nova. jonny and I are all ok. still get my hugs. still have my art. 

i'm home in nyc for the moment. though technically. i’m not great at being in one place for more than a few days. i do crave my book collection and writing supplies. pencils preferred. also the company of my dogs. if there is no water nearby, not even a creek. i’m generally not at home in the philosophical sense of the interpretation. of course. we could go on and on about the meaning of home.

whether a snapshot reminds me of myrtle beach with toulouse or the violation of nova is up to me. the power of association. art is everywhere. 

i’m not sure what i know.          if anything at all.           but i’m learning. 

so here’s to many more stories. snapshots. poetry. memories and favorite company.

homeiswhereyourdogis

getdrunkbeardownanddothenovadance