Piece by Peace (or, MotorHeart)

A smile crosses my face as I wake to the sound of birds hopping around on the roof of my motorhome, playing in the tree above me and chirping like they’re gossiping after a Sunday 10am mass at church.

I’d forgotten about this, and I’m in ecstasy.

It’s my fifth consecutive morning waking up in my beautiful home, my comparatively huuuge full sized, unbroken bed, my cabin in the woods, my beach house; my sanctuary, and finally I have found a spot on my favorite street to park in San Francisco, aptly named Treat.

I’ve been chipping away at my to-do list, and adding new things mechanical, aesthetic, and both almost as much as I check off others. Some things necessary but not requiring immediate action such as giving the electrical system a really good look, labeling active wires and doing away with unnecessary ones with so in the future if anything goes awry on the awroad I can fix it with little headache, larger tasks like painting it (mostly) white or ripping out the couch and putting a booth in, (creating more floor space while still having a guest bed), re-carpeting & re-upholstering to rid it of the lovely ‘80’s hotel-room peach motif, and things that are completely ludicrous such as figuring out how to make it fly or float, or installing a hot tub on the roof.

It feels So Damn GOOD to be able to work on her again I never want to run out of things to do, and as she’s twenty six years old, I’m a good mechanic and I have a damn good eye for design, (something I’m not too humble about) I doubt I ever will.

Piece by piece she’s coming together; I’m doing as much as I can to save my last $5 & change for just a little bit more food since that not only is good for a certain thing called hunger & keeping up my energy and health, but I need to take almost all of my dwindling herbs with something in my belly. I could go to Maitri for meals, but that either means giving up my space and using the last of my fuel, or taking the bus for one $4 round trip leaving me even closer to completely penniless and her all alone with most of my things inside, as I would want to take advantage of the time there to shower & pack more.

The main thing that is looming over my head and creating undue stress is the desperate need for a good tune up, and that needs to be taken care of ASAP. It’s one of the very few things that I prefer and want to have done by a professional, at least the first time. Until then she’s running rough, with black smoke billowing out of her pipes polluting grossly and drinking fuel like it’s an ice cold Pabst or fresh lemonade on the Playa. A good tune would fix that.

I have a beautiful vision of pulling up to the DNA Lounge on the 10th with her purring like a kitten, and  right now, it’s only a vision, and my disability check doesn’t come for seven days, which is an eternity right now.

The chirpy-hop birds have taken flight somewhere else and I have a relatively full plate of things I want to work on today, so time to put Clotho to sleep and get my own ass out of bed.

Good morning, beautiful life… and thank you for letting me stick around.


Twenty-Three Days (or, Blood Money)

Twenty-three days and counting, so much to do and it s so little time to do it in.It’s almost hard to believe that my time here is coming to an end, almost hard to believe the end isn’t my own. I look back to pictures and video I took of myself shortly after I arrived here, and just like everyone else who I have seen regularlyduring the past year, the people watched me, cared for me – it feels as if everything happened so quickly.I think back to how it was, how I was, the pain, the uncertainty; and how ready I wasn’t to die – there is still so much to do, so much beauty to see, so as if the life that was almost extinguished was turned on full blast…

I need to be careful though – even more so. This is no time to let things slip, as I was reminded of in full blood-red color last night. In lieu of getting the herbs I need, I got compression stockings – it was actually either one or the other due to the lack of money, but I didn’t believe that only a couple days without all the herbs & potions I take would have an effect so sudden. My  legs haven’t itched for months, not horribly, at least, and the  I actually woke up  scratching my legs feverishly from a half-sleep, and with my fingernails had made some nice ges in the new, soft flesh that still needs time to toughen up.
Blood on my hands,
blood on the sheets –
gods, what a mess.
Being me, however, the first thing I did after I wiped my hands off was grab my camera.
Lesson learned – but it wasn’t really a lesson, so to speak. If I had the money, if, dear gods, INSURANCE actually paid for the herbs that saved my life and continue to help me heal, then this wouldn’t be an issue – but gods forbid. Herbs take the money away from the corporations, so they can’t work.
Still twelve days away from my next check, and meanwhile I need to also make certain my motorhome has a way to keep foods cool and so many other small things that make a huge difference in whether I stay healthy or not.
I’ll figure it out, though, one way or another – I always have in the past, this is just a little different. Things are a bit more fragile, and I need to remember that…
and appreciate every second, of every minute, of every day, that much more.


On the morning that marked the time here for me at one year, the tenth person died. None of the residents knew him, as he was here for only three days – but that doesn’t make his death mean any less, does it?

One year. October 6th, 2011. I have watched nine people die, more than many will see die in a lifetime. More than any would want to see. Two of them, Salvador & Ron, were far more than acquaintances. Thankfully, more people have left on their own two feet.

Very soon now it will be my turn to leave, and I’m not just going to walk out the door – my own death was close enough to make me realize how precious and beautiful life is, and how fragile – and though I’m far from 100% –  legs & hands still somewhat fucked …  I’ve been given a new lease on life, and I’m going to friggin’ dance for joy out that door!

I have set the date of my exit for November 11th.


I know very little about numerology, but that must mean something, mustn’t it?

A Different Game

This past Friday night I did something I had not done for exactly one year and a day – crawl into my own beautiful, full sized bed. The smell of salt air coming in through the roof vent, the whisper of car tires as they went by, I lit a candle, some Nag-Champa, and took a moment simply to look around and appreciate where I was:

My bed.

My sanctuary.

My home.

Though there are is one resident, Tuesday, and a couple people who work here, Greg & Paul, Linda & Melanie – that I will come close to missing when I leave (I’m not much one for missing people – which doesn’t mean that I like or think about them any less, ,  it just seems silly, and almost only a self-centered emotion. Like being sad when people die; the sadness only comes from knowing that we won’t get to spend time with them anymore… more regret than anything else – but I regress…) …I will be absolutely thrilled to leave here. As backwards as it is, this place seems to suck the life, creativity and passion from people – at least people who are accustomed to such a different way of life. Fighting for every fucking word written, wondering why I have little or no desire to create. It made the fight to stay alive that much more difficult. Day in, day out, the exact same schedule, absolutely NOTHING to spark excitememt or passion, nothing to keep the fire that once burned so brightly inside of me lit. An emotional flatline. – I feel as if I’m going to exit this place a shell of who I was.

I feel with little question that if I didn’t have the people I love on the outside waiting for me, that I would have given up long ago.

It is you who give me life. You who gave me a reason. You who kept the fire in my heart burning, even if there were only glowing embers at times.

It will be quite an abrupt change to go back to my motorhome where everything is so different, though it is a change that I’m looking forward to with all of my heart. No refrigerator, (I seriously need to figure out if I can somehow fix that or get it fixed now that so much desperately depends on healthy food) and, dear gods – having to actually take care of myself? Do my own laundry, remember to take my herbs, hope that when I can afford to get some LP gas in the tank my water heater works so I can stay clean and cook good meals, figure out someplace to ship my herbs and all the other good-for-me-stuff I get off the interweb that could forward it to me, wherever that might be if I’m not in town; it will be the white to this place’s black.

Slowly the fire in my heart will be rekindled, I’ll again find the words that were once so easy, and – AND – Cultureflux will again be reborn!

There is so incredibly much to look forward to, and still so very much to do with my health – now begins the fight to completely cure myself of Hep-C, and what I’m looking forward to more than anything – helping other people to realize that there ARE alternatives to western medicine, and hopefully helping them get better – though I’ve already found that’s going to be a bit more difficult than I thought and will take some smacking upside some heads, as some people don’t seem to realize that they are in control…

So much to do. So much life yet to be lived –

and I owe it all to the people out there who gave me the will to live…

I love you all – and with all of my heart, I thank you.

Warrior, Wonderchild


My fourth “Three Month Evaluation” was today here at Maitri. As we went down the list of questions pertaining to my health, her smile continued to grow as more and more questions were answered “Resolved”. A question about meds was answered by me swearing to stick to my herbs, meditation, Ayurveda, teas, endless research & reading until I cure myself completely of Hep C, avoiding Western “medicine” as much as possible – and she said that she wouldn’t be surprised if I did it, her subtle smile somehow beaming. After the evaluation, Linda, the head nurse and an absolutely wonderful person (a no bullshit black woman from the South), admitted that there were times that she wasn’t certain about my future- was worried that I didn’t have one at all.
As I walked out the door to the nurses office, she called me her “wonderchild”. I simply said “No – I’m a warrior, and this particular battle, it looks like I have won.”
Now, just waiting for a surgery to knit the connective tissue in my abdominal muscles back together (the weight of the fluid ripped it apart), and start to get hardcore on the the *cause*, not the symptoms. >>> My gratitude to you all is limitless, as I know without question that what I (we) achieved would have been impossible without your help; your love, encouragement, and monetary assistance. Though I hate to bring it up again, the request is cushioned by the fact that I know this will be the final month I need to ask, but I still need financial help due to only coming out with a tenth of my check. Admittedly, a small amount of it will go to the motorhome, as the Ocean, my own home & serenity is as healing as any herbs that I could take, if not more… so again, please, I ask for any financial help that you can offer, for my last month here. Paypal – ksea@culturefluxmagazine.com – and thank you all, for everything… Soon it will be my turn, and I can’t express how thrilled I am to give as much as I have learned, and keep the love you have shown me moving…

One year & little more…

The 6th of this month marks an entire year I’ve been at Maitri, & I’ll be damned if I spend it here. Been doing as much work as I can afford to to shed the mothballs from my motorhome & get her running well and *safely* again, as safety doesn’t come third where this is concerned. Desperately wanting to, at the minimum, head out to Ocean Beach for midnight & sunset walks for the weekend, as well as hitting the archery range while there. Much needs to still be done on my girl though, & unfortunately they’re the things that cost; changing all the fluids, tune up… doing as much as *I* can to save $, but not sure if I’ll actually be able to escape safely, even for that short distance, without forfeiting scratch that should go to herbs. Wish me luck. Spending the weekend at American Steel to continue my work.

As unoriginal as it is, I believe that I’ll name her ‘Gypsy’, as of all the names I have thought of over the months for her, there are few that have such a beautiful ring while still portraying the feeling of the open road and a wanderer…