on creation ‘n loneliness..


Music was my refuge.
I could crawl into the space between the notes and curl my back to loneliness.

Source: Maya Angelou

Image: Leszek Bujnowski

Inky:  Creating is a lonely.   You see the words fashioning stories, hear notes trembling with music, live in worlds only you can see as your friends fashion smoke rings, demolish the whiskey and lie to appease you as you try to relate.   So you spend less time among them, working to give sustenance to the things you feel, the things you hear and see.   Turning vision to the written page, chasing notes onto music sheets, painting images into film and canvas and hope it shines with the same intensity that it burrowed within you; frantic, frenetic, kinetic, alive, and lonely.

common sense on vacation…

edd wikia

dingbatter n.  a non-native to the area who tried to launch a boat from a rickety dock this weekend only to have the whole thing collapse.   Never mind the warning sign, the way the dock shook, and the suggestion of a near by operational boat launch about a mile away.

Source: Inky

Image:  found @ ed.wikia.com

best seat in the house..

Virgil_C_Stephens-Notevena_Gallery 2010

There’s a hundred years of history, and hundred before that
All gathered in the thinkin’ Goin’ on beneath this hat.
The cold flame burns within him ‘Til his is cold as ice,
And the dues he paid to get here
Are worth every sacrifice.

All the miles spent sleepy drivin’
All the money down the drain,
All the ‘if I’s’ and ‘nearly’s,’
All the bandages and pain.

All the female tears left dryin’,
All the fever and the fight
Are just a small down payment
On the ride he makes tonight.

It’s guts and love and glory.
One mortal’s chance at fame.
His legacy is rodeo
And Cowboy is his name.

Source: Baxter Black

Image:  Virgil C Stephens, Notevena Gallery 2010

Inky: Morning all…

Mood: Curious

Listening too:  the distant sound of a large truck barreling down the highway

Doing:  sipping strong coffee and writing



Who:  Has-no-Horses  Lakota Sioux  circa 1898   He was part of Buffalo Bill’s Wild West show.

Image: Joseph T Keiley

Inky:  There is pride in that face, strength, and a bit of dominance but there is also hint of vulnerability in those eyes.

“When did you get so smart?”

Laurie Taylor

He tapped his forehead. “Brain transplant. They put in a whale’s. I’m passing all my classes with my eyes closed now, but I just can’t get over this craving for krill.” He shrugged. “And I feel sorry for the whale that got my brain. Probably swimming around Florida now trying to catch glimpses of girls in bikinis.”


Source: Maggie Stiefvater, Lament: The Faerie Queen’s Deception (Books of Faerie, #1)

Image: Laurie Taylor



Ian Johnson

Just because an apple falls one hundred times out of a hundred….
does not mean it will fall on the hundred and first.

Source:  Derek Landy, Death Bringer

ImageIan Johnson

Listening to: a Harley racing up the road…  for truth, it’s like a sonic boom going by every night about this time.


Doing:  paused a video game, listening as the windows rattle, nursing a glass of cider that’s a little on the hard side.

Mood:  still lazy.

Portsmouth Island.

pigottsAt one point a thriving port town, Portsmouth village lost it’s last inhabitants in 1971 when Henry Pigott died, and the last two residents – Elma Dixon and Marian Babb – reluctantly left for the mainland.

Established in 1753, within twenty years the village became one of the largest settlements on the Outer Banks.  For nearly a century the shipping trade through Ocracoke inlet saw the growing settlement blossom into a major North Carolina port.  That is until the growing shoals, shifting sands, the 1846 hurricane which opened an inlet near Hatteras and the advent of railroad saw the port trade draw to a close.

With the advance of the Union army in 1850, the villagers fled to the mainland until the end of the war.  With the conflict over, many chose to remain on the mainland. Fishing became the commerce and means for survival for the returning villagers until isolation, a depressed economy, and the destruction caused by hurricanes took it’s toll on the remaining population.

Subsequently in 1976 the island became a historical treasure, as part of the Cape Lookout National Seashore, today you can walk the paths of the village, visit the structures, while listening to whispers on salt filled breezes that speak of past struggles, tragedies, survival and life as resident of a small fishing village.

Portsmouth Island is a rustic vacationer’s paradise.  But be warned, there are no businesses, no vacation homes, and no stores; it’s a hard-to-get-to location with no modern amenities for those who like ‘roughing it.  For those that prefer more comfort the ferry runs daily – in season – from Ocracoke Harbor.

Sources:  Cape Lookout National Seashore,  Portsmouth Island, Short Stories & History by Ben B Salter.

Image:  Pigott’s House – Village Craftsman

Inky:  If you can’t tell by now, I love my home state.  Living by the sea, surrounded by so many stories, so much history has always been like paradise for me.  I’ve lived elsewhere for years, traveled, worked for long periods of time away from home, but I always found myself drawn back to here.   Some of my happiest memories are here, tagging along with my grandfather and great uncle to the family ‘fish house’ just off shore.  Watching them work with their gill nets, being given my first gill net needle when I was seven, and helping my grandfather mend nets.   Watching old silent movies on a sheet tacked to my great aunt Aliza’s kitchen wall.  Watching her comb out her long (to the back of her knees) black hair as she moved back and forth on the porch swing, being taught to quilt in her little sewing house out back, and stealing figs from her huge fig tree behind the sewing house.

Listening to:  the air conditioner buzzing in the background and the far off sound of Cherokee Booms.

Mood: Lazy

Doing:  Getting ready to go to the local store.

Just before sleep…


The hardest thing about the road not taken is…
that you never know where it might have led.

Source: Lisa Wingate, A Month of Summer

Image:  found at myscienceacademy.org

Listening to: the dryer tumble

Mood: Sleepy


watching apple ….didn’t bother me. I could fall forever and not be hurt. It’s stopping that’s the problem.

Source: Ann Leckie, Ancillary Justice

Image: watchingapple.com via Warner Bros.

Listening to: Restart, Sam Smith

Doing:  web research

zero gravity…

I take off when I touch you.  Like flower petals in the spring breeze.  Time stops, Zero Gravity. In this moment, in this world.  Your gestures, those eyes, the whispers, the tears.  I am you, you are me. Like that love moves on…

Source: Zion T  South Korean singer, and songwriter.

Inky:  such a smooth sound, a different voice, and wonderful lyrics.

Mood: Serene

Doing: Sitting in the dark, earphones on… cradling a glass of wine and listening to Zion T.