Organizing for America | James Strauss's Blog: Alone in the Forest

Alone in the Forest

By James - Feb 15th, 2009 at 9:37 pm EST

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Tags: "lipstick lesbian", Argentinian Wine, divorce, from-the-chateau-dif.blogspot.com, http://www.themastodons.com, Lesbian, seattle, Val de Flores

The Empty Picture FrameAlone in the Forest

I sit alone in the woods, buried deep within the multi-layered greens of the Olympic Peninsula. I am an artist, but I've lost my art. I'm drinking too much, but only after four o'clock. And my wife is bailing out of our twenty-seven year marriage. My best friend tells me that I'm simply an artist who is 'between times," stuck atop a high windy plateau.

The two dogs are of some comfort here, miles from home, in this fairy tale log cabin owned by an old patron. The dogs know that this is not home, this beautiful but cold wet place of exile. One single mile in distance, really, if one were to leap across the mile wide canyon so deep in vegetation I've never seen the bottom. The Lesbian Log Inn, my friend calls this forest retreat. My patron is an aging lesbian, not of the 'lipstick' kind. There are seven large photos stretched across the solid wood of the living room wall. All the photos are of beautiful women. I don't know any of them but my friend assumes them to be former conquests of my patron. There is one empty frame hanging at the end of the line. My friend thinks that this last frame is reserved for a photo of my wife. But I don't believe that.

What happened to my life? My marriage? I didn't do anything. I didn't have affairs. I didn't hit her, ever. I even brought in some pretty sizable checks from art projects and painting sold. Back then. Back when I thought that things could only get better. Now I sit here, both dogs looking at me from across this great open room. At me. Through me. Their eyes espressing a sadness which I work to keep out of my own.

It's three-thirty. Only half an hour to go. My smooth sanded and resanded art table rests under my forearms. Three clear coats over its entire polished surface. Eighteen sharpened pencils on my left. A thick stack of high quality paper in the center. A full supply of Da Vinci brushes in a can at the foot of my stool.

I stare out the huge windo into the deep valley of ferns and Madrona pine. Idly, my mind attempts to count the vast number of green shades to be found within my view. A single ray of sunlight penetrates through the high pines, to the exact center of the valley beyond. A dry stream bed runs down there, I am told. That stream once ran with water. Back in the time when I had a life, my art, and a marriage.

I'm fifty-two. My faded blue eyes have the powerful glint of high intellect. My large Norwegian frame is still strong and fit. I remain expressive and vital. What has happened? I didn't get fired from any of it. I was simply eased out, like one of those unnecessary line workers at the Boeing Company across the Sound. A person whom was liked by everyone, but no longer necessary to anyone. There was just no reason to justify keeping me around. Not in this cold culture. Not in this forlorn time.

I promised myself that this day I would return to my art, but my hands will not stop shaking. I 'm not sure whether that is because of the alcohol or because of the unspoken, unwhispered, and only barely admitted fear. It's three-fifty. Ten more minutes. For Happy Hour I have purchased several bottles of expensive Argentinian wine. When I drink it, no matter how much I consume, I don't feel like an alcoholic. It's not rational, I know, but that is what I do.

God, but I loved my life. And my art. And yes, my wife. If my patron wants her, then I must grudgingly admit that the old lesbian has good taste. Where did everything go? And why could I not get it back when it started to go? And why could I not go with it wherever it went? My pocket watch, sitting at the very top of my art table, reads only moments from four o'clock. It is close enough. I stand, stepping a few feet back from the perfectly neat table. I center the stool on the table. I stand for a moment and admire the readiness of the professional equipment, before moving to the counter and going to work on one of the bottles of Malbec. Val de Flores, it is called. No doubt squeezed and fermented from the Grapes of Wrath. I smile at the thought. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I will go to work on my art again. I promise.http://from-the-chateau-dif.blogspot.comhttp://wwwthemastodons.com

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By Nancy L Noffsinger Feb 15th 2009 at 11:35 pm EST (Updated Feb 15th 2009 at 11:35 pm EST)

and almost everyone in U.S., and large part of the world is saying "What happened to my life".
Hopefully, each of us can find the answer to that
?? before we each leave this life. NN

EmptyPictureFrame? | Report to Admin

By Dina "Hussein" Bayardo Feb 16th 2009 at 4:39 pm EST (Updated Feb 16th 2009 at 4:39 pm EST)

Dear Alone in the Forest,
You are not alone. But you mustn't wallow in the funk you find yourself in. It sounds like you are a gifted artist who at 52 is looking into the future and into his past. The future is wide open for you to make it what you want. And the past, well, that's history and you shouldn't dwell on it. Just learn your lessons from it and the rest file as past memories.
Well, if your wife wants to fill that empty picture frame, that is her choice to make. And no matter how much you love her and how good you've been as a husband it isn't going to make a difference.
You see, you will fall in love again and you will move on. The tragedy would be for you to continue as you are and waste your Godgiven talent. You can sell your art and donate some of the proceeds to a charity of your choice. The world is filled with people in need. You are as necessary as you make yourself be, trust me. Please don't waste yourself and your time in self-pity and feeling rejected. There is so much for all of us to do to make this a better life for ourselves & others. Thnx, Peace-out, Dina

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By Debbie Feb 16th 2009 at 7:32 pm EST (Updated Feb 16th 2009 at 7:32 pm EST)

Very well written! Life at one of its lowest moments... but rose back to life!

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