Pig and farm report king tides & A High Wind In Jamaica edition

I'm typing as fast as I can because the winds are at 30 mph currently and picking up which means power can blink out in a hot second. Sometimes I get tiny fierce headaches in the place where I cracked my head wide open. Today is one of those days but my headache may be caused by anxiety or rather ANXIETY the little death to those of us who suffer. Currently I have anxiety about my blood pressure which is too high even though I am doing my best not to add flakey maldon salt to my freshly buttered bread and when I test my blood pressure with the expensive wrist sphygmomanometer I’m pretty sure my blood pressure shoots up I because I'm so anxious about how high it will be. 

My other anxiety concerns my beautiful house. I've never owned a house before and I never believed I would because I was working three jobs just trying to make ends meet when I lived in Seattle. Then my horrible mother died and left me a pile of money bog knows why we hadn't spoken in 50 years guilt maybe but I bought this beautiful house I paid cash for it so she will never be able to unhouse me again. 

Sometimes I hear the new to me house creak and whistle and groan and I freak out and my son tells me I was traumatized from our old apartments and rentals and slumlords. I know this is true. King tides and high winds make me anxious because I live in a forest and trees are not permanent on this earth. I've seen trees dance and literally walk during earthquakes and I've seen my trees here bend and sway and do-si-do like nobody's business then lash and fling themselves against my windows. Two years ago a huge tree collapsed through my neighbor’s roof and she just left it there for months. I have enough science knowledge to know that the king tides do not cause the whipping wind storms but it sure looks that way sometimes.

I am cold even though the heat is turned up. Anxiety runs up and down my bones like Wiley Coyote with piano keys tinkling. Maybe I'm going blind. Maybe I have typhoon. Or dropsy. Or the gallons. I'm reading this huge biography of Beethoven. All his physicians with their weird and deadly cures. It makes me sad. Along with being deaf Beethoven was a drunk and most likely a drug addict (removed 80 empty medicine bottles from his room at his death) and he suffered terrible acne and sciatica and he was retaining water so his physicians drilled a hole in his stomach and stuck a hose in there and let his insides drain out into a bowl under his bed and they froze good german wine into ice cubes for him. He had pneumonia but it is certain he died from physicians not knowing what the hell they were doing. Just typing that makes me want to cry and so I will. 

I have had gut issues all my life stemming I believe from being punched regularly in the stomach by my sibling. When I was at the hospital bleeding all over the place from my head I told my assigned doctor that the reason I fainted was because of gut issues. I told the attending physician that all my physical problems stemmed from gut issues and the attending physician said Oh I believe you and then nothing more was said proving to me that he did not believe me.

I am a tumble down mess red in tooth and claw like the tumbling tumbleweed of yore my body a ghost town with dust and saloon doors flapping open and closed and my neck feels funny and I need to drink more water don't we all just need to drink more and more and more water until they have to cut a hole in our guts to let it stream out at our ends. But I am PRESENT I am inside my body. I am notating Jerusalem it is lovely inside my face a red sky sloop down weepweepweepweep stained beyond anything that might occur in the bathroom.

Jupiter sits on my chest and begs me to stay I will stay because she is the Magiker sleek and black the high priestess of this house and we are dizzy with mustard pricks. When my phone rings I drop it out of my hand. My throat is a yellow eyeglass. My lungs are wasps but in spite of all this I baked a goddamn gorgeous cake feral in its chocolately ganachey truffle goodness.

Thank you Darklings for reading this far. Love, Rebecca