Every day since I've arrived on island, I've bought at least a hundred dollars worth of stuff. It started with towels, bedding, warm clothes, protective gear...and now I'm moving on to furniture. Good Cheer 2, the local thrift store, sells high-quality goods at ridiculously low prices, and coming from Portland, it's hard to say no to a a hide-a-bed in perfect condition, or an antique buffet table (I think that's what it's called). Ashley and I brought the table out to D.G. made a place for it amidst the trash and junk. Fiberglass insulation, books, molding meditation pillows, trash bags full of God-knows-what, more books, clothes, etc. littered the whole room. I propped the door open and started tossing it all outside and then removed the dank carpet, which I found was the source of the mildew smell. The floor looks good under there, I figure I'll coat it with some stain to make it look real nice. The "buffet" table I got is long and tall, and the front face has one long drawer along the top, as long as the table itself, two little cabinets and a few drawers in between them. The whole thing sits atop four spindly, ornamental legs and will look perfect in that house. I can keep jars of herbs and teas on top, and silverware, dishes and other whatnots inside it.

I picked up a few other odds and ends at Good Cheer, which is to be expected. a flashlight with am/fm radio built in for those long nighttime walks down Dead Goat road, a squeegee for the windows, 11 blank tapes, and a pot for cooking rice. And some speakers for my computer that seem to run off power from the computer itself. No wall plug-in. I'm thinking my life on the land can be a sort of hybrid between olde world and modern times, like recording an album out there on my computer, charging it at friends' houses between sessions.

When we were out there cleaning today we found a small bathtub in perfect condition, which is exactly what I've been keeping my eyes out for! I wanted a small one as I will be importing my water from the neighbors (making it hard to fill). I want to prop it up on cinder blocks and build a fire pit underneath it, maybe even build a shelter over the top with some rugs on the ground like a proper bathroom.

Another thing we found is a propane space heater, which will really come in handy at first. Other uses for propane; range cooking and refrigeration. Could be expensive, I don't know yet.

Tomorrow's a dump run, among other things.

It's my third day on the island, and I have quickly become (too?) comfortable at Marianne and Steve's. The "office" where I'm staying is actually the first floor of a house, complete with a kitchen, living room with wood stove, and the internet. I know I'm supposed to be working on Dead Goat, and I will, but this easy existence is just too good to let go of right away, especially after years of full-time work and touring. I haven't allowed myself any significant breaks, and my body is broke because of it.

Today I woke with the crick in my neck. That same old crick as ever. It seems to run through my shoulder and down to my elbow. I realized this morning, sitting in front of the fire, trying desperately to stretch my neck muscles out, twisting and massaging, that I don't know how my body works. I am 31 and I don't know how it works. I don't know how to sleep so that I don't wake up in pain. Perhaps working this winter on the property will make me stronger and it will help. Actually, I'm sure that will help.

I'm going to take my first stab at Dead Goat this morning. Ashley and I are going to clean the windows. It's about all we can do at this point. I don't know what "triple-wall insulation" is or how to do it, but Marianne insists that the roof be triple-wall insulated where the stovepipe goes through it. There will be a work party this weekend, and hopefully Golda will come. She's got a harness for roping up to the roof, and she also just finished installing her wood stove. Dirk's an arborist, so he can help trim back the trees from the chimney. And that driveway! What a wreck. Overgrown to the max. Doesn't even look like a driveway, more like a bunch of bushes. Secret entrance.

I have been buying a lot of things for this winter. Things I never needed before; thermals, flashlight, kerosene lanterns, work gloves, etc. I haven't gotten any tools yet, just waiting to see what I'll actually need. There's a hammer out there already, I noticed yesterday when I stopped by. I also found a glossy of a naked lady under the stairs. There was a man living out there for a time, he died of a heart attack. Not on the property, thank goodness. Last thing I need is a ghost out there, it's going to be creepy enough being alone out there with no electricity. I mean, sure it'll be scary, but it's something I welcome. I'm tired of feeling "safe" and all that. I mean, passively safe. I want to be in control of my life and safety. I want to be comfortable, but only because I worked for it. I have a hunch I'll be happier this way. I've always wanted to do something like this. I've read books describing adventurers, like the characters in Jack Kerouac books, and even though they were always men, I identified with the feelings that were expressed. I remember when I was 23 and living in L.A., I read my roommates copy of Dharma Bums. I had been feeling depressed because L.A. is so crappy and different from Michigan, but I finished that book in one afternoon and it really got me going. It was raining outside, really hard. I put on all the clothes I had and got on my bike and rode to the grocery store. I was blasting through puddles, yelping at the shock of cold water, but my face was warm and alive and even though all I did was ride a mile in the rain on the gridwork of the Valley to a Kroger and walk, dripping through the aisles, a weird grin on my face and people staring at me as I stocked up on dried meats and dried fruits and fresh fruits, and ride back to a boxy apartment building with an entry code, I felt like a little adventurer. I might as well have been hopping trains and cooking beans in a can down by the river.

I am thinking now of all that has led me up to this point. Especially the recent past. It all started with a vision upon waking one morning. It didn't have anything to do with a dream, I woke out of dead sleep to the picture of a teepee in my mind. I thought "Of course!" and got to researching them and how to make them and all. I liked the idea of moving to Whidbey Island, where my band mates are. They've always encouraged me to move up here but I thought I needed the bustling social life of Portland. More like the busting social life. It ended up busting my non-existent balls! More and more I felt like escaping. What was I really doing there? Living in a cool house that someone else owned, working my ass off at Stumptown, making Duane Sorenson a healthy, wealthy, prosperous man. Memorizing bullshit coffee descriptors, acting like I knew what I was talking about. I don't give a rat's ass about coffee. Unless I'm cooking it up over an open fire on Dead Goat. That will be fun. My friends would call me up. "We're going to a party/bbq/dance night/movie night/Holocene night..." blah blah blah. I found myself wanting to hide all the time. Coming up with excuses or just not answering at all. I thought back to my child hood. I was a real introvert back then. Shy and wanting to be alone all the time to work on projects. I really sold my soul in my early 20's, wanting to be a social princess, to see and be seen. I found my charming, confident side and fueled that fire for a long time. Dating, partying, etc. But I'm coming back around now to my true nature. I want to foster those qualities that have been shoved into darkness. I want to like being alive again. And I want to learn! The educational system has really screwed me, and I don't trust them, but that doesn't mean I can't learn a language or how to build stuff or what all those trees and plants out there do, and what their names are. I've really gotten off track here. I meant to say that I awoke with the teepee vision, and it lead me to realize I wanted to leave Portland. So I wrote a letter to my band, telling them of my state of dissatisfaction. I was miserable, I told them, and wanted to leave everything except the band. They were very supportive. Ashley and Eli did some research up on the island, which led to Dead Goat. Ashley's bosses run an environmentalist action group. They own the Dead Goat property. It's called that because of the name of the road it's at the end of. The road has been renamed Hidden Creek, but everybody still calls it Dead Goat, if they're in the know. The house that Marianne built is a dirty shack, but it's stable enough and the roof doesn't leak a bit. It sits in a valley called Frosty Hollow. There is a large foundation they built for a new house. That house will never be built by them. Marianne got cancer in the 90's and had to leave. She basically walked out the door and never came back. It's just been sitting there ever since. Ashley asked about it, and Marianne took us out there to see it. Ash and I camped out there, and it was a little spooky for sure, but not as bad as I thought it would be. Very dark. I started getting excited, imagining the place as it once was, with lights in the windows and smoke coming out of the chimney. My mind started racing, and I knew I was in.

So now I'm in. It's time to get it done and I am sitting here, cozy and clean in front of the fire at this house where I don't live. It's time to make breakfast and do some work.