Oh Marya….. my❤️ goes out to you while you fight the black mold bastard.
One of the things I like most about you is that you live a world adjacent, wildly creative, untethered life, but even this has become a disaster too much to bear.
Any chance you can sell whatever is salvageable, and begin again? Gut the scamp tramp, bleach everything, pray, reseal and repaint or dump that too.
Toss everything porous ( including the wildly awesome gold spike heels).
Mold spores know no boundaries, and you don’t need any tag a long bugs,
I have enough of most anything you need to start mold free and anew… and it’s yours for the asking. Most of my clothes would fit two of you, so that’s no use, but I’ve got pots, pans, blankets, sheets, pillows, curtains, and towels galore. And I’m guessing so do many of your adoring fans.
The gutting and throwing is beginning as we speak! I will be vigilant and spare nothing I should not. And thank you, so much, for your kind offer. I had a very nice therapy session last night with my poor therapist who continues to suggest that asking for and/or accepting help is not likely to be fatal. I have taken it under advisement 🤣🤗💕
Thrilled to be along for the ride, Marya. Also, I treasure this quote from Mary Oliver (and your missive reminded me of it):
“It is six A.M., and I am working. I am absentminded, reckless, heedless of social obligations, etc. It is as it must be. The tire goes flat, the tooth falls out, there will be a hundred meals without mustard. The poem gets written. I have wrestled with the angel and I am stained with light and I have no shame. Neither do I have guilt. My responsibility is not to the ordinary, or the timely. It does not include mustard, or teeth. It does not extend to the lost button, or the beans in the pot.
My loyalty is to the inner vision, whenever and howsoever it may arrive. If I have a meeting with you at three o’clock, rejoice if I am late. Rejoice even more if I do not arrive at all.
There is no other way work of artistic worth can be done. And the occasional success, to the striver, is worth everything. The most regretful people on earth are those who felt the call to creative work, who felt their own creative power restive and uprising, and gave to it neither power nor time.”
At a point when I really should be commiserating with your misfortune I find myself wrapped deeply in the chaotic joy of your writing. PS If this is short, what is long?
“…instead of writing and looking at turtles, but frankly that is no concern of mine.” I find this probably far too deeply relatable but I think writing and looking at turtles are great priorities! The rest of the world’s got the wrong idea, imo.
On the bright side, after the gut job, you can build some cabinets, closets, or storage to your liking. Plus, more material for your creative and talented mind to play with words cleverly, practicing your bitchcraft.
Oh no!! I feel this…I just moved back into my house after six months of living in my backyard and van—with a nearly intolerable level of chaos and teams of men in my space repairing the mold and water damage caused by my cable company. My salvation? Soaking up the sun, watching the moon, sitting silently in the early morning breezes, and communing with the birds and bunnies and skunks and bees and other critters co-living in my outside space. You’ve got this!
The line between tragedy and hilarity is acute in this. That mold would floor me. Hope it can be elminated and thank you for taking us along for the ride!
What a campy disaster! It sounds too bad to be true, but I know it to be true as I also reside in a camper, and when things go bad in campers, they go in a big way. I can’t wait to see you rebuild your Scamp. That’s an awesome adventure!
Oh Marya….. my❤️ goes out to you while you fight the black mold bastard.
One of the things I like most about you is that you live a world adjacent, wildly creative, untethered life, but even this has become a disaster too much to bear.
Any chance you can sell whatever is salvageable, and begin again? Gut the scamp tramp, bleach everything, pray, reseal and repaint or dump that too.
Toss everything porous ( including the wildly awesome gold spike heels).
Mold spores know no boundaries, and you don’t need any tag a long bugs,
I have enough of most anything you need to start mold free and anew… and it’s yours for the asking. Most of my clothes would fit two of you, so that’s no use, but I’ve got pots, pans, blankets, sheets, pillows, curtains, and towels galore. And I’m guessing so do many of your adoring fans.
Dump that moldy shit.
And if you need it, allow folks who care to help
The gutting and throwing is beginning as we speak! I will be vigilant and spare nothing I should not. And thank you, so much, for your kind offer. I had a very nice therapy session last night with my poor therapist who continues to suggest that asking for and/or accepting help is not likely to be fatal. I have taken it under advisement 🤣🤗💕
THIS. Teyani, thank you.
Mar, let us help, ok?
Thrilled to be along for the ride, Marya. Also, I treasure this quote from Mary Oliver (and your missive reminded me of it):
“It is six A.M., and I am working. I am absentminded, reckless, heedless of social obligations, etc. It is as it must be. The tire goes flat, the tooth falls out, there will be a hundred meals without mustard. The poem gets written. I have wrestled with the angel and I am stained with light and I have no shame. Neither do I have guilt. My responsibility is not to the ordinary, or the timely. It does not include mustard, or teeth. It does not extend to the lost button, or the beans in the pot.
My loyalty is to the inner vision, whenever and howsoever it may arrive. If I have a meeting with you at three o’clock, rejoice if I am late. Rejoice even more if I do not arrive at all.
There is no other way work of artistic worth can be done. And the occasional success, to the striver, is worth everything. The most regretful people on earth are those who felt the call to creative work, who felt their own creative power restive and uprising, and gave to it neither power nor time.”
Dana, I read this and felt, as the kids say, wildly seen. Thank you for sharing. To heck with the mustard and buttons. On with the poems and walks. 🫶🤗
Thank you, Dana (and Mary). This could not have been more timely for me.
Thank you for this hilarious glimpse into the state of play with your, um, eccentric campervan, Marya. Hope you can get it fixed up.
"Ah! This time she will not be weird!" Thank goodness for the weird!
How is the inanimate object also taking on my truculent unwillingness to be timely as well 😂
At a point when I really should be commiserating with your misfortune I find myself wrapped deeply in the chaotic joy of your writing. PS If this is short, what is long?
Twice this length is long. 😜 I am glad I’m not the only one laughing 😁
My question exactly.
“…instead of writing and looking at turtles, but frankly that is no concern of mine.” I find this probably far too deeply relatable but I think writing and looking at turtles are great priorities! The rest of the world’s got the wrong idea, imo.
I AGREE 🙏🏻
I just found my new favourite writer.
Hullo, friend! Welcome!! 🤗
This was so good--as always.
Thank you, Sarah—high praise 🙏🏻☺️
Marya
So good
Gone done Shat the bed
A sure shit show. I hope it’s OK to laugh. You got me going.
Thank you
May all get sorted in the alligator sleep well
Thank you, Prajna, I will carry on 😆
On the bright side, after the gut job, you can build some cabinets, closets, or storage to your liking. Plus, more material for your creative and talented mind to play with words cleverly, practicing your bitchcraft.
This!!! I had not thought of this!! Thank you luv! 😂🫶
Oh no, troubles do tend to come in multitudes don't they 🫣 at least the bog is pretty 🤷♀️
So pretty!! A great place to begin a gutting 😆
Oh no!! I feel this…I just moved back into my house after six months of living in my backyard and van—with a nearly intolerable level of chaos and teams of men in my space repairing the mold and water damage caused by my cable company. My salvation? Soaking up the sun, watching the moon, sitting silently in the early morning breezes, and communing with the birds and bunnies and skunks and bees and other critters co-living in my outside space. You’ve got this!
THANK YOU 🙌🏼🙌🏼🙌🏼
The line between tragedy and hilarity is acute in this. That mold would floor me. Hope it can be elminated and thank you for taking us along for the ride!
We shall see 👀 I’m certainly curious!!
What a campy disaster! It sounds too bad to be true, but I know it to be true as I also reside in a camper, and when things go bad in campers, they go in a big way. I can’t wait to see you rebuild your Scamp. That’s an awesome adventure!
Right?? It is implausible but not in any way impossible in a camper…I look forward to your thoughts as we go!
Oh man. That is a lot of shit fuckery all at once.
All. At. Once.
You Cray-cray!
And,…
About those 4” stilettos,….
I’ve often said the same thing.
You never know,………
I mean!!!! 😁🤗
Even your recounts of moldy dingbat fuckery are lyrical...looking forward to tales of the rebuild.
I really think this will be fun. Fun-ish 🤣