not a writer

Kathleen Anne Isola

I am not a writer, at least not in words. My spelling is pretty good but I am grammatically challenged. What I have to say I say in music and pictures. I always wanted to be a writer but when I tried here’s what happened. A great idea (subject) would pop into my mind.. I would begin to expound on paper(fresh white lined smell good paper), using of course a brand new black, fine tipped, smell good pen. At first my writing is about the subject and then meanders into all kinds of rabbit trails. I’m out of control and become overwhelmed because I just know I am doing it all wrong. There’s a secret about writing and I do not know what it is. After wadding up 40 sheets of fresh white lined smell good paper I give up. It’s not my gift. Stop the madness.
I am a visionary. My need to express myself has always been satisfied through music and pictures. I have given up the struggle to be anything other than myself. Free at last! No white picket fence or ranch style home for me. I’ve been screaming all my life “Let me out of this damn box”.
I love to travel. That looks really good on those social network pages. Everybody loves to travel. Everybody is also, a nature lover, has a sailboat or motorcycle, is understanding, passionate and looking for that special someone to share their lives with. I’m not a tourist. I have this curiosty about how people live, what they experience and about how we are so alike and yet different.
Today, my home is my sanctuary and also where I fight most of my battles. My dog, Bristol is my traveling companion through life. My 2 cats: Phoebe, named after Phoebe on “Friends” because she is a lovely ditz. She does not play guitar and does not know all the lyrics to “Smelly Cat”. But she is a diva and I love her. In the last year we have had two new additions to our family. My son, Doug, who I’m no longer estranged from (another story) and an orange tabby named “Major Tom” from Space Oddity by David Bowie. He doesn’t do LSD but I’m sure he’s an alien that does not like strawberry ice cream.
I smoke too much and drink a lot of coffee, have recovered from a hopeless state of mind and body and suffer from grave emotional and mental disorders. My saving grace (I can only hope) is my capacity to be honest, most of the time.
Grace is my favorite word and my wish for all of you who read this is that you will be possessed of enough of it to meet anything that comes down the pike for you today.
I am of Finnish and Russian descent thus the Isola. Through out life my creative endeavors have both saved my soul and nourished it. I am a starving artist who is rich beyond belief.
Peace
Kathleen

the decision

Winter Trees

The Decision…

It must have been winter because their coats had to be gathered up and the social worker, Ms Rechtern was wearing an overcoat, red or brown I think. “You’ll see them again” she called up to me as I stood at the top of that long staircase, watching her dress them for the walk out into the cold. Somewhere deep inside there was a knowing, that she was lying to keep this 7 year old from flying down that staircase, grabbing onto her coat, screaming and yanking their little hands out of hers. Our eyes met for one last time as they were scurried out the door and I was alone, like I had never been alone before and bewildered. Feelings I had never experienced rushed into me. No one was there to ask what had just happened. Alone in that big old house, I soon found myself in the room we had shared. Throwing myself onto the bed, I began to cry and then sob, wrenching sobs. It felt as though my insides, all my organs were being ripped from my body and I bled out. Hours later I awoke facing the wall for the first time. No one was there to explain, to comfort me with maybe yet another lie. A sense of betrayal and rage tore throw my being. Spent and weary, eyes red and swollen shut; I stood and shouted at the world and at God. “I will never, ever feel that way again” “I will never, ever love anyone or anything that much again.” A door opened somewhere, someone was home. I did not care.

Life on life’s terms………

Loving well hurts

Dear Latrelle,
The hairdresser is home with the flu………..
The gym is closed……………….

Screw the list……………………
There’s a scrapbook that need’s finished and a house that needs cleaned and a cable company that needs dealt with…
I’d rather walk with my dog in the cold
and feel the temperature dropping.

Our time at the coffee shop will be the highlight of my day, even if Dave Sayer drops by.

It is good to feel the motion of my legs moving and my feet hitting the ground.
I feel as though I am the main character in one of those movies about a person who has gone on but does not know it. I’m trying to stay on task and complete the list but tugged in the direction of surveying my life thus far and putting some things in order.
Dropping the leash I raise my camera for a shot at a colorful water spikot. Soon I realize she is gone. She is no where in sight. My constant companion who never goes too far from my side……………is almost deaf and almost blind.
Has she fallen in the creek, run into the street, headed for home?
It’s going to be like that someday..

I call out……she does not come
I round the corner of the brick building
and to my relief………..
Please Latrelle, when I can not see or hear anymore do not drop my leash.
It’s a sad sight ……………… someone you love…………………….
standing on a stranger’s porch sniffing for something that smell’s familiar.

Sissy

Day 1

Dear Latrelle,
Day one of 2009..the first thing I did this morning was clean up cat puke. It is said that whatever you do on day one is what you’ll be doing the rest of the year. So, it appears that I am doomed but you still have a chance if you heed my words of caution. Make your choices carefully today.
Celebrating the Eve with you was a real treat and you looked lovely. I hope our little talk about being in love didn’t discourage you. How’s your headache?
Do you think I embarassed Dave when I showed his scar to all those people?
Sissy

Dear Latrelle,
Thank you for a lovely evening. The meal was marvelous and I especially liked the Ceaser dressing on the flank steak.(be sure and thank Sugar for me again, would you?) I will be calling you for that potato recipe soon. You made Mama proud with your culinary talents. And you looked so cute slicing up that steak with that really large knife. And nobody in the room seemed at all concerned about you with that knife. You have most certainly come a long way. Sugar and Jon-boy were delightful as always. Sugar’s therapy seems to be working, I mean she didn’t even dice up Uncle Donnie when he made his usual sexist remark about baking cookies being womans work. And Jon–well he seems eerily normal. You seemed so calm and serene which is amazing with the potential for violence…which I didn’t even think about until Hank began reminising about when he snapped and choked Boomer at one of your family gatherings. As I talked with Mary I could not get that scene out of my head of her and Hank in the car and her tearing her clothes off as they went down the road yelling “fuck me” “fuck me, you know you want to”!!! It was nice of her to clean up the kitchen like she did.
Oh, and Latrelle, I love the table talk when we all get together. I mean we talked about everything from politics, to sports, to nutrition, to food poisoning. Trust me I will never leave a turkey sandwich with mayo on my dash board for 6 hours or let you make my lunch. And the bonus is: I now know the difference between assassination and plain ole murder. You know how I love to learn new things. I’m glad Hank’s staying on his medication and sorry I brought up his motor cycle named “Organ Donor”. I’m so happy you all liked my cookies. I will get you some parchment paper for Christmas. Bangert seems very taken with you………I think that’s reallllllllll nice. And he’s so polite and helpful, offering to clean up all the blood and all. Well, it’s time for me to turn in and rest up for my 6-9 minutes on the treadmill tomorrow, oh yeah and I have to clean the dog shit off my tennis shoes. I love you.
Sissy

Barbie Smokes

Dear Latrelle, I wish it wasn’t so late because I would certainly call you on the telephone and tell you all about my day. I will fill you in on the prison visit in person but the Doctor’s visit can’t wait because I am pissed off to the max. You see it all started when I got a call from my shrinks nurse that my blood work came back and it was unsatisfactory. It seems my tryglycerides and cholesteral are higher than they should be and I was instructed to see my primary care Doctor asap. That was 3 months ago. Not knowing what a tryglyceride even was and fearing a major peanut butter restriction I put off calling Dr. T until yesterday. Now, don’t get your knickers in a twist when you read this………..ok?! I know how you worry. I have had some little symptoms that I have been avoiding dealing with. Well, I’m not going to go into all that now, just suffice it to say I shouldn’t have put this off. At any rate I decided it was time to look into the situation after I did some research on the internet about heart attack symptoms and tryglicerides and all that. Damn…….I like living on the edge but I think I crossed the line into stupid. I fear that I am a little short on self preservation instincts.
I called Dr. T and wouldn’t you know it he had an opening at 3pm today. He ordered a thallium stress test. I took the paper work without reading it till I got home. In the section titled Associated Diagnosis he has typed: Chest Pain, Hyperlipidemia and SMOKER! Don’t that Phuckn beat all? If he wrote that order for an obese patient would he have written: Chest Pain, Hyperlipidemia and EATER?!! If he wrote that order for an alcoholic patient would he have written: Chest Pain, Hyperlipidemia and DRINKER??? If he had written that order for a drug addict would he have written: Chest Pain, Hyperlipidemia and CRACK HEAD?!! He’s gettn a phone call from me tomorrow. I want those questions answered. WTF!!! And you know what else Latrelle……….he totally checked me out today. And I liked it.
I think I’ll ask him to coffee. Gotta go..
Love ya,
Sissy

The Sissy Letters

Art for Sale

SnowFlake

Dear Latrelle, After much deliberation I overcame my feelings of pessimism about the affair at the Church on the Rock…..well sort of…….I went in spite of them. I arrived early and was pleasantly surprised. It was decorated so pretty, all Christmassy and stuff. It was much classier than I expected. And you know that I am all about classy. So, I found Joy. Joy is the organizer-church secretary. Joy just beams…….I introduced myself and told her how pretty I thought everything was………..Joy beams because she has found Jesus, and she lets you know by saying Praise Jesus or Praise the Lord or God is Good after every sentence. I mean every sentence! Kelly called and was on her way afterall, so things began to look a little more promising. I skirted the tables with the black plastic table cloths that I almost left in the dryer to long. They almost turned into a big black yukky mass of shit but I got there just in time. Praise God! Hallejujah! You know I spent several days preparing for this event and there were a few trying moments especially when my dark side kept telling me it was another exercise in futility. Shucks I said, what the hell else am I doing. Anyhow, the table skirting went well, Kelly showed up with the most beautiful poinsetta arrangements I’ve ever seen. Brenda bounced in like she does with her upscale homemade jewelry and some kind of miracle fruit drink she’s selling. She had a very tall attractive african american woman with her. She was real African like in Uganda. Brenda rattled on about how she’s starting an orpanage in Uganda. Where is Uganda, Latrelle? Anyway, that was pleasant. You know meeting people who are doing such grand stuff not just claiming their fame by going to rehab like Brittany or poppin/ out babies like Angelina. You know, I went to rehab and had several babies and no body thought it was a big deal! I digress. Well, the place filled up with mostly very well dressed and well groomed ladies who beamed alot like Joy. There were a few that didn’t beam but I think they must have been the lost souls. From 5-7:15 nothing. Lot’s of lookers and lot’s of “you do beautiful work” and “aren’t those poinsettas lovely” but no cash passed between us. We tried to keep our spirits up but it wasn’t looking good. I went to look for coffee and a place to smoke. Can you believe it? no coffee.! Hot Chocolate, hot tea and Wassel. No coffee. Whatthaphuck. What the hell is Wassel? The tables were pretty tight and this woman with a really huge ass and her two kids were right behind us and forever in the way. I went for a sandwich. I sat down next to Mel and we chatted a bit, I took two bites and OMG..I heard a crash. When I looked in the direction of the sound I saw that it was my large picture of Frontier Park on a snowy day. Someone had knocked the easel over and it was broken and glass was everywhere. Kelly said “Mom, pray for grace” as I headed toward the mess. I couldn’t even say phuck because of all that joy and beaming in the room. Someone got a broom, I tossed the glass in the dumpster, the easel in my station wagon and went back to my sandwich. Now, it’s time for the fashion show! They didn’t say anything about a fashion show.
And the booths have to close for the fashion show. After the fashion show, there was the praise and worship time. The Christmas song singing was nice and I was just starting to get into it a little bit when they introduced Pastor Kim. She must be a saint or something because all those women just seemed in awe of her. Well, she spoke and we all prayed and two of those lost souls found Jesus. Now, I know I’m rambling on a bit but please bear with me. So, now it’s 8pm and I’m thinking……….I’m outta here. Then my gracious daughter says we can’t just pack up and book right now! She’s right I think……….how crude of me! So we hang out a bit and finally I get the go ahead from her that we can pack up and leave in a tasteful manner. Praise God. As we’re hauling it all to the cars, she says, “Thank God it’s not really cold or raining because we’d really be pissed. Now Latrelle, is that anyway to talk on God’s parking lot? Well, I really wanted to skip the part about paying for our spaces but I’m compelled to do the right thing these days so I write the check that I hope doesn’t bounce. Wouldn’t that be a hoot. I’d go to hell for sure.
The very bottom line is the only one’s who made any money tonight were the Christians.
Sissy

Homeless in Melbourne

Homeless in Melbourne

Ayers Rock Gold

Tepui Mist