6 years

Today it’s been six years since i left my English shores for the ride of my life. Those of you who know me, know that looking back for me is a painful thing.. not because of regret but because of nostalgia. Looking back i struggle to let go of the past —  with her claws in my back like some wounded banshee.
I miss the beaches, i miss Bristol harbour side and i miss sailing every week with my good friend. I lament the loss of those few good times i had.
My fondest memories from Britain was sitting in an old wooden ship pub with Pat — talking about sailors of old, ghost stories about pussy penny pickers and discuss all the books i’d write, all that after a good sail and a couple of biscuits between sea shanties. The joy i felt those days and nights — i knew they would not last forever. I suppose a part of me knew that i would supposed to leave England eventually. But i of course though i’d be going the other way. Back to Denmark.
I truly lived the life of Treasure Island for a while back there. I visited all the places and saw the world differently, i sexed with history and bleed for her to boot.
And as soon as that happened — i fell in love. A love that existed and stretched so far past the horizon that i had no choice but to follow as my heart ran away with me.
I don’t regret a day,  perhaps i wish every world i’ve lived in and nurtured didn’t have to be so far apart. So separated and recoiled by one another.

pondering by the window, counting my blessings and thinking about writing my next adventure.

I still find it hard to fathom where i am now. Living in Wyoming where the wind is rough and its cold as a buffalo carcass in the ice. Moving to Wyoming plays a big part in me finally managing and feeling inspired to finish that western novel. And now that i achieved that wonderful feat — we’re ready go move back to Texas, preferably by the coast so i can sit by the water and writer my nautical novel. Novel number 2.
We won’t be moving every time i write a particular kind of novel, it just played out that way this time. In New England i felt so drained, i didn’t belong there and it was tough and tiresome. Our road trip west really brought the love back for the West that i’d been missing.

With Texas being back on the cards, and moving there again — its a strange feeling. A home coming but with the two of us… it wounds my heart that Basil wont be returning with us in the flesh, but life is full of its hardships. I hope it happens as soon as possible. I’d personally also love to try to live in Denmark in the forest, near a sea, with Jack for a while but i don’t know how well that would go. I think we’d live happily and well but we’d grow bored of the quiet still living where nothing really happens. But you never know. We could end up living on a boat out in the Gulf of Mexico and sailing to wherever we wanted. Who knows. The world is our clam and its all dumb uncertain. All i know right now, in this moment, is that i’m so glad i dared to love blindly, move freely and let a Texas fella tell me a secret.

I count my stars and lifelines every day. What do you count your stars for? What mad crazy thing did you do?

could you close your flap so i don’t fore go my boiled eggs?

It was a quiet weekend here with us. We’ve taken walks away from everyone, and right now Jack is taking care of the shopping whilst i sit in the car to limit the chances of covid exposure. I don’t mind all that much because i dislike shopping — Walmart being mostly the only option. Since we’ve been staying at home most of the time i’ve been finishing projects and starting new ones. Lately i’ve started playing a new instrument, i’ve been finishing knitting projects for etsy and have the mind to work some on my novel writing and dreading the search for rejecting literary agents. I’ve also started working on digital drawing using photoshop (which is a lot harder than it sounds). I’ve already worked on a few logos and tshirt designs for the horse revival i volunteer with. Next week we’re going out to pick up a new mustang from northern Wyoming. I’m pretty excited and pleased, because we tried to go get the poor thing last week and were sure it was going to get shot in the field due to ridiculous issues. However, it seems we’ll get another chance to go and get him next week. Fingers crossed.


As for staying home and the social distancing, i like it. I’ve always crossed the road when someone can my direction on a walk – so thats not new. I actually think i get a lot more done at home, i’m more productive even since my job has become crazy during this entire pandemic started and again, fitting in the writing is the tough part.
I also called Pat today, my good old sailing friend, i’ve been meaning to call him for weeks now but i hadn’t got around to it. How we talked and laughed like old times, it was so good for my bones. I can continue a little longer. We talked about boats Jack and i might buy to live on one day when we return to Texas. We laughed about forepeaks and i was honoured when i found that one of the lines i’d made for his sails was still holding strong — one of his prized possessions he said. That is a great compliment from a galant man of the sea. I don’t have friends as such, i’m a very internal person. I’ll perform for an audience but i wont talk to them after. So you can imagine how important he is to me.

I think thats about all from me, i’ve been suffering from a ghastly headache all day and night, so i think i’ll see goodbye and hope you write more when i feel better.

Stay safe and stay home..

i’ve been gone from home a long damn time now


I’ve been gone from home a long damn time now. I don’t remember it much, the memories escape me and are beginning to seem like nightmares, some of the good dreams appearing like golden stones amongst all the broken rocks on all those beaches i once watched stretch far as the eye could see — while i sailed around the South West Coast of England. For many years i blamed England for a lot of things, my hardest living was on those shores and it gave me that cynical shell i so like to stew in but lately i’ve been missing home. The good house on Sand Road that now stands ruined by modern greed, the bay where i’d run into the sea in the middle of winter and wave the pirates by — waiting till i was old enough to go with them. Where i was soft hearted, and i was truly. I’d go and see the fine commodore, my dearest friend, and talk about all the things he’d seen and he’d tell me of the writer he knew i’d be. When all was deaftly quiet i would tell him..
“If something happens while i’m gone,” i’d say all choked up and taking a long look at my once only friend. “You come and you tell me yourself, no matter how you go. You find a way to tell me — and you promise to visit me.”
“Oh Izzie, i will. I’ll sit in a dark corner with a bottle of good chardonnay and boo at you as much as you like.
It’s a tough life living on wheels and wings and strange intentions. But thats me, whether i asked for it or not. Honestly, i think i always knew that i would never live any place forever and thats why i still to this day am very dubious about letting folks in. Whats the point when i wont be around long enough for anything to matter?


For the rest of my life my heart will always be a little broken and lost, with no real place thats mine and as the years go by i’m beginning to get real square with it. Lately i’ve found everything hard and i don’t mean that to seem bad, its not necessarily. I’m still here to ride through it, right? I don’t really understand what i’m meant for. To move from place to place like my traveller ancestors? To sail out in the venturous sea like my forefathers and gods or if i am simply bred to exist and talk about whatever my hearts dreaming of?  I could be dead before i find that out, which tells me thats not that important.
England, old girl and sailors haven, how i miss you today. And i suppose it’ll always been on the heart of my sleeve, but i forgive her now. I’ve hit the age that i can forgive her and i hope she forgives me, perhaps now we may both have peace. It took me moving to the western world where the sand is red like blood, the wind is a bitch and where i see possibilities where there are only stray mustangs and jagged cliffs — for me to realise that England made me hardy girl.
Summers beginning to loom in, teasing us with her random warm days full of sunshine from here to China. I’ve never wished for Summer more than i am lately. Winter in Wyoming wasn’t as bad as we’d been told it would be, but it feels like we’ve been living in the cold for 5 years and seen very little of good sunshine. Suppose we’re missing our Texas sunrises and hot afternoons with bees buzzing about us like poverty ridden men with no water.

Wyoming was one of my favourite places when we first moved here, i loved it before i started working. It was a free place where i could see Calamity Jane in the street and hear her drunken cussing as she rode into the dark. Since then, i’ve started to realise — as much as i like it here and enjoy the landscape, theres too much willing us onwards a final time, or southwards i guess. Perhaps if my situation was different and i was living like a western author i could see about living here for years to come, but Its not Texas. Its not a place we can run to when shit hits the fan, theres no Matt Le Blanc to talk through life’s troubles with and love til the day we all die, no Van Roekel or Madeley to laugh and live with. Texas, why the thought of her now sends tears to my eyes and sends my heart into absolutely frustration. The home where i fell in love with a Texas boy, and the little dog at his feet who loved me through all my faults.


While i sat on this rock and waited for the camera to click, my life flew by like a stone through a window. I never dreamed i’d be where i was. I never would’ve believed that that person sat right there — would be me. But it is. Im tough, i’m honest and getting there. I pretty rough around the edges after all these years and a lot of scars richer than before. Wyoming inspired me and gave me the push i needed to finish my novel, something i never believed i’d achieve. I have finished it and while the rest of the world is crying in a pandemic, all i can think about is my novel and the new venture i’m about to embark on. I’ll always be who i was, and i’ll always keep changing.

I wanted to go out to take pictures on Saturday, i had this feeling that i needed to get out out out. So we took a walk by the outskirts of town. We found new places to explore when the summer finally shows up. I sat down and played my flute a while as i listened to the wind, Jack holding my camera up so the wind wouldn’t knock it over and thats were this little bleeding notion hit me, and thats what i’m doing here. Sharing it with you.

the western imposter

Hello everyone!
It’s another Monday night, and another day closer to the weekend. Boy i started counting down Sunday night. You bet i did.
Tonight i was supposed to go to the horse rescue but it showed to be far too cold to do anything, so only the feeders went out there this evening. I really wanted to go out there to get to know everyone more and to get over my anxiety a little. The more often i go the quicker that feeling subsides and i can feel like i can get more deeply involved. When i get anxious i stand in my own way, for example i wont go ahead and do something i know how to do unless i’m told. I’ll let someone show me how to do something even if i already know how to do it. See what i’m saying? Then later that’ll piss me off that i didn’t just go ahead and do it in the first place.
Nevertheless I’ll be going back on Wednesday to film some riding and lunging for an adoption video, maybe take a few pictures too. I haven’t brought the big camera out there yet but i look forward to the results. Hopefully i’ll be doing some lunging with Isabella Bird (27 year old thoroughbred who is the sweetest). I’d love to adopt her myself but i have no place to keep her — same with Prada the Arabian Princess. They are such sweethearts.
But if we’re moving again, which we most likely will, it’s just not possible for me to get a horse right now.
Bummer Ted.
It sucks that UW ruined Wyoming, because Wyoming is one of the most beautiful states i’ve ever seen in my life. Christ. The stuff of a little 6 years olds dreams of cowboys and campfires and wild horses.

Isabella Bird, named after the British explorer i believe.

It’s been a good 15 years or more since i lunged a horse, so you can bet your arse im out of practice. I also haven’t worked at barn for a year and a half now. It’s incredibly frustrating to stand in your own way, and i battle and beat my head against it daily. So even though all this socialising stresses me and worries me, i really love the company so far. Easy people to get a long with and they really want the best for the equines they care for. Not to mention that they seem more than happy to let me “in.” I kinda already feel like part of the group though i’m not as educated in the nature of horses as they are. I’m an actor after all, not an equestrian. But what more could you want from new experiences?  I think i’m pretty bad ass for going against my own insecurities and telling them to go to hell. I might be a lone bear who likes the company of crickets, but this time i found folks i like.

Barn cat black with no boundaries.

I had my first real “shift” so to speak on Saturday, and it was a great day with good company. I felt a little unsteady at first but i think given some time i’ll soon get back into the swing. Because we keep moving, as soon as i get settled in a place, it all goes down the drain then i have to start over again. And thanks to UW i’m sure it’ll happen at least one more time. However, i will say when we go out on adventures or i go to this place — it makes it easier to deal with the mundane weekdays that drain life outta me, not completely —– but some. Also — i love this damn cat. Holy crap.

Happy Jack Road

Sometimes i feel like an imposter walking around in boots & cowboy hats, with a laconic state of mind, being so foreign and trying to hustle in with the real cowkids and western girls on horse back, but they really make me feel welcome at this new place, which is totally new to me. Exciting stuff.
Anyway i filmed a few clips and will be making a video of my first day there which i can’t wait to share with you. Yesterday we also took a trip to Cheyenne where i filmed all day for the fun of it. I think it’ll be “A day in Wyoming” type of video but we’ll see how that goes with time and all.

The Western Imposter

My dad might not be from Tennessee, my step father doesn’t sing the ballads in a dive bar and my mother isn’t some Southern woman who taught me to be the perfect pioneer wife. I’m just a lost little kid walking around this big world trying everything life has to give me. Missing all those i left behind in sad and bad and pretty home places. Finding my way through fields and mountains and plains and state to state to state. I get a little closer as it goes, but i know the feeling of being an imposter may haunt me a good long year or two yet. If you look at me now though, sitting on this here rock and thinking over all the places i’ve seen and the one guy that showed me what love was like?

I don’t have that much to complain about.
Happy Monday — see you again soon.

old bow leg

Well, as you can see I found a home in Wyoming. A place that is enough to possibly persuade me to stop running one day. If Wyoming were an ocean I would spend my life trying to drink it, whether the salt would burn and poison me would be trivial. Though even New England where the sea was close — I found myself missing the sea because it was so cramp and full of tourists. It was never like those cold nights alone on Sand Bay beach. Thousands of miles from me now and years of memories past.
Here there is no ocean or tall ships, there is only waves and waves of empty prairie. And for now I shall have to get my oceanic fix when I fly home to Denmark or you know.. if I ever get lucky enough to take a holiday to Saint Vincent where the sea is blue and the sand is whiter than I am.

I could never choose what I loved most or what I wanted to do. And so I told the world to go fuck itself.
I’ll do it all.
And I have.

I’ve sailed with pirates and commodores. Ive ridden horses on the Texas front and I’ve been the clown I was born to be. These days I find myself in a strange state of mind. A happiness wrapped in dark melancholy that is oddly comforting.
I have a job that pays me and will fund every dream from now. I have the west and I find my dreams coming true even weekly. But when you are a part of so many things that make your heart pump a million, there is always something missing.
Today is not a day that I will sail. Nor is tomorrow. But there will be a day when I see the sea and we’ll kiss like we always do.

I don’t know what kind of believer I am, but I know things do happen. And one thing that happened most recently, something that shook me to my core, was that I met a horse.. a horse that captured me like a sail from a mast holding the wind. An old man whom I call Old Bowleg. Im sure local photographers have an actual name for him, but I gave him this one.
A majestic horse that has seen war with half his ear chewed from its cartilage and a leg bent all out of shape. Yet still he stands as tall as the trees at the bottom of a valley. Still he knows the favorable wind and it flows through his mane. If there was a god — he walks this earth with a bowleg. Now that is something I can believe in.
He was a painting. He was an old chieftain without his tribe. I believe that he had been run off from his mares by a younger suitor. So out there on top of the mountain I found him. Between the reeds and the straw. This beautiful animal, stronger than any man I’ve ever seen, and his faith never wavered in all his years regardless of the fact that his leg struggled beneath him. It didn’t matter because he could fly.


If I had had the time to sit and talk with him a while I would have, but alas it was not be this time. If he Is still alive when the summer comes I shall look for him and maybe I am destined to look for him for an eternity. If that is the way, so be it. But how grateful I am to have seen him even for a moment, it seemed but a second. He was what I always dreamed a true American mustang must be. What America was and can be again. Thats unfair. America is a wonderful place, but the politics — the never fucking ending political bullshit is nonsense. And so I don’t think about it. I think about what I see and what I feel.

And that horse, that day — he took something from me and since I saw him I haven’t been able to stop feeling like I wanted to run back. I don’t relate to people. Thats not my business. Animals, its always the animals. They have me in a vice. Bowleg gave me something… a vision. I will remember him as my spirit horse — the one who taught me that though I have been pained and wounded it doesn’t have to stop me. It doesn’t have to define me. As long as I remember.
Remember. Remember. Remember.
To as true to you as you can be.
It doesn’t matter what Agatha did or what Johnson said. Riley can go fuck himself. What matters today and tomorrow is what you are.

No one can take that from me. And no one can take it from you.
Wopila!