Pillars around the Fire

Pillars around the Fire. Lincoln City, Oregon. Photo by Freeman

Sitting down to write. I have to. My heart is just raw.

Too many are taking off lately.
Absorbing the tremors of Death passing and coming too close for comfort.
It’s got me really paying attention to my own mortality.
Looking around and realizing how many pillars I leaned on for guidance, strength and support.
Have transmuted into the ether.
Thinking about the pillars of character that have supported us, our friends.
So many time lines.
And parallel worlds that interacted fluidly from time to time over the past forty or so years.
I’m not going riding today like I planned. Probably should go to love on Chevy and go talk to trees with her in the silent musical of the forest to help my heart at the moment.
But I need to purge. Hold space. Process these emotions.
Do some writing. To remember before I don’t. Or Can’t.

If I could animate what I am seeing into words,
It reads as as if we’re all in these groups standing around a fire on the beach.
I feel these time lines.
All the years and occasions that I have stood there with my bare feet buried into the sand and feeling the “presents” of those around the circle.
Faces clear with the warmth and orange glow of the fire. Eyes sparkling as my gaze catches theirs. Subtle nod of acknowledgment. The shared smile. The wordless gift of belonging.
And then the drift back to ones own personal thoughts. Knowing deeply. Connection.
I watch in my minds eye as the person slowly disintegrates into the shadows as others come forward into clarity.
Our lives seem as delicate as fleeting promises.
The waves coming to shore. The ebb and flow of life and death. And all the character building moments in between.
So many miles covered and years earned making our way around on this twisting rock flying through space.
Lifetimes celebrated. Deaths holding us still.
Cautious.
These waves. Birthed from some cosmic shake by our Mother.
Moving forward with a promise to find our end, some day, along some far off shoreline.
Along some stretch of beach as a group of friends gather to take it all in.
I am so very grateful to have lived such a character rich life.
And hold sacredly those around the fire who have finished their journey.
And those still here feeling the presence of each other.

The waves crash on under a moonless night.

Big D.
Aries brother.
I’ve been keeping you at bay a bit.
Just touching your face in my mind ever so gently and so very quickly.
So I don’t really have to feel, how much of you is gone.
But here I am. Diving in.
Raw.
I know you heard me talking to you since you’ve left.
I also know you are doing fine and perhaps thinking what you want to come back to this world as. Or maybe not.
I don’t think you were done going through these hallowed halls of lives lived quite yet.
You were too fond of being a person of many characters.
All wrapped up around one giant over sized heart.
I really miss you.
Even though we didn’t get to spend as much time together these past handful of years.
I knew we were chilling in our own worlds loving on each other from afar.
And that had to do. Now that you have left.
Disintegrated back into the shadows.
I will feel you around the the heart fire.
I am really bummed you are not here to smile at me from across the way.
Or to hear your laugh bellow again.
Or to watch you play some new version of yourself with so much class and goofiness.
I will wear your hat and take you riding. Til ‘ it falls apart or finds someone else to fit.
Fly free my sweet friend and soul brother.

The Shasta Trip wants to be mentioned.

That fire. On that island. Under that full moon rising.
As we tripped thinking a real UFO was showing itself to us that one particular night. Rising like some firey monster from the abyss.
What a rush that was. We all laughed together when it became clear….that is was…just a giant full moon coming over a mountain ridge and staring down at us silly humans wrapped around those burning crackling sticks.
My journal from that time. Is somewhere in a box.
Memories.
Bo Right wrapped up in his serape half naked covered in mud curled up next to the fire keeping warm looking like he had lost his horse on his way in from Montana.
So happy that limousine found him on the side of the road hitchhiking “Shasta Lake DPW or Bust” and gave him a ride to the dock just in time to catch our boat as the anchor came up.
Mr. Mik had picked a handful of us up in the Deluxe van.
Leaving the Mission, on a mission. SF to Shasta Lake. Pronto.
Along the way.
Leaving Las Vegas wrote it’s own sequel.
And the movie characters were acted, by themselves.
Real Deal.
Linus appeared and etched his vulnerability into my heart.
And someone else had to scream “torture” through the night making shit up in their own heads.

Max.
Aries brother.
I knew your brother first.
He left us before you did.
I knew that took some out of you.
I first knew you by your legacy.
Beginning in SF to LA to Hawaii. To the east coast and back to our coast.
I think the first time we bonded at the ranch. You had to ask me in front of your wife and everyone present.
If I would tattoo your dick. I knew it was for the laugh and to see my reaction.
I can’t recall if I said yes or no. Probably told you yes. But you’d have to hold it. I do recall telling you. It was not prime “real estate!”
That seemed to slow the roll on that conversation for the time being.
I loved watching you find your way.
Giant teddy bear brother friend that you know would defend you at a moment’s notice.
You saved my life a few times.
Once when I knew I had to leave the scene. I tried to leave as a ghost. But the demon hadn’t left his gaze on me the whole weekend.
And that moment when I knew I had to go before the place erupted. I did my best to ninja out the door.
But he was on me.
I left that door way in a full run….knowing he was going to come after me.
I hadn’t figured he would be so quick about it.
But I knew I had to run. I saw your truck parked and cleared the side panel of the bed. Tucked into the side wheel well. Hoping the shadow cast from the street light would hide my whereabouts.
I had just enough time to tuck in and saw the knife flash above me coming in to make its mark.
And then it didn’t.
You had picked up on what was happening and had run out after him.
Caught him as he tried to release his anger on me.
And then he was gone. He split. Hitch hiked back to LA without telling anyone.
He was a friend of yours. An ex-lover of mine.
We didn’t make much of it. Didn’t lay into the drama of it.
You saved us both.
He got sober. Through clean living and finding the love of his life. He was able to exorcise that demon that haunted him.
The one that came out when whiskey hit his blood.
Max.
We partied on rooftops in NYC. Danced in the crowds in many cities together.
Saw so many shows I don’t even remember most of them. Alcohol may have been why.
Once in LA. We did some GHB together. I think it was Halloween. I dressed up wearing my german style half lid, braids tight, eyes blackened, with my doe skin fringe jacket on.
You took me to some tattoo shop party. And of course I made a wreck of myself. Using my helmeted head to start ramming into shit.
Most definitely irritated by the humans doing their stand around and talking about themselves small talk social games.
You scooped up the pile of me and got us out of there before I really made a scene.
You got me to somewhere safe.
I came out of it. Curled up in the back of a car crying missing my mom.
Beck was there. Already over me. So it must have been going on for awhile.
In SF during another of our family adventures.
I had been on one for a couple days already.
But you needed someone to go pick up some folks from the airport and knew I could handle it?
So much that you lent me your big old truck with that damn long horn steer skull mounted on the roof.
I made it to the airport on time.
I accidentally drove into the parking garage. And instantly remembered those damn horns as they broke off as I entered.
I had enough time to make it to the exit, spin back around the airport arrivals pickup area and pull up the curb as our friends fell out of the terminal.
Get in! I yelled. Quick! They did and we sped off. I told them of the incident. And really dreaded having to tell you when we arrived.
But you laughed it off. So I could laugh? I was happy there was not any damage done to your truck. Just the horns. Damn horns.

Last I spoke with you. You had decided to end your life with dignity.
You were done fighting the cancer that had made its way with you.
I understood.
Sorry I couldn’t make it down to you before you split or to even join your celebration of life with your kids and our friends.
I was there. Our hearts were bonded. Still are.
As you know, I said my fair well to you as you left in the fiery chariot headed over the ocean that day.
I love you my friend. Thanks for always being there. For taking care and loving unconditionally.
You are a pillar I truly miss.
Til’ we meet again.
I will know you in the circle of fire.

Robo.
You’ve been talking to me lately.
What’s going on? Are ya back yet?
Are you one of these kids hanging around now that I should pay more attention to and see your shadow about?
I haven’t written about you since I put your story into one of my black books.
Seems it’s due to be shared here.
What did I learn from our last interaction?
Another lesson in how fragile our lives are? How deeply people effect us with their presence and with them being gone?
How important it is to make the most of our time together?
We were at POP’s.
Typical midday meet up. Have some drinks. Play some pool. Talk shit. Laugh. Talk some more shit.
Your grrrl was hanging tight with me. I didn’t think much of it.
My brain is a bit foggy.
But I recall you saying. “I am out of here!” Leaving in a huff.
My mind not catching that you were upset. Really upset.
I had ran to the door and looked out to see if I could catch you maybe standing outside or walking back to your pad.
But I didn’t see you. I came back in dropped back onto my bar stool and kept drinking with our friends.
At some point we were done and all jumped into my truck. We asked your grrrl if she wanted a ride.
She did. So we headed the five blocks to your house and dropped her off before making our way over to Dboys’ grrrl-friends house.
Within minutes. We got the call.
Christine, your girrl. Upon us dropping her off. Opened the door to find you hanging there.
To this day. I feel you thought we would get to you before you passed. We didn’t.
I am still confused about it all.
Where did you go when you left the bar? How come I couldn’t see you walking away down the street?
You couldn’t have even made it down the block by the time I got to the door to see if you were just kidding.
What made you tie a rope around your neck and drop a floor? Was is something I said? Or didn’t say? Could I had done something?
Maybe someday you can tell me what was going on in your head.
Your taking your life really messed us up for a long while.
The what if we got there ten minutes earlier? Would we have been able to save you? Did you want to be saved?
You were the last suicide funeral I have gone to all those years ago.
I won’t go to anymore. No more suicides or OD’s.
You choose to not be here. That’s your choice. I am not going to celebrate it. I will miss you. And still be mad you didn’t hold on or want to be here with us.
Unless of course. It is time.

Hobbit.
Aries brother.
the only one with a justification for suicide.
I do miss you too my sweet friend.

Mr. Mik
Libra friend.
I am floored today.
Like I was two weeks ago when D passed.

Prior to meeting you. I had chosen to call myself Ms. Mikki in the tattoo world in 1993ish?.
Mostly to distinguish myself on the convention banners as my being a woman within the male company that I was working with.
The Ms. came about while I was in the southern states workimg. Someone mentioned that I was perhaps a Ms. not a Miss.
I agreed. And liked the honorific intended use. So I adopted it.
But when the Ms. really took hold.
Was when my beloved friend started dating Mickey and began involving each other kids into the mix.
I would hear my godson ask his mom when either of us called.
Is it Mr. Mickey or Ms. Mikki?
It’s Ms. Mikki!
And that’s how that distinction came about.
To this day. It just fit.
One of my favorite memories of you.
Was going to see David Bowie with you Jenni and Mark.
I had never seen Bowie or heard him perform live.
We didn’t have special seats or passes.
We just went and danced to Bowie live on the greens at the Shoreline together.
Care free. Just for the fun of it.
I’ve been around a fire with Mickey on many occasion.
A text or call would go out to meet at the end of Judah. SF.
Tapas picked up on the way kept our bellies full.
People showed up with crates and wood in hand.
Ready for a fire at the beach.
Mickey used to come visit me in Huntington Beach at the compound.
Driving the Deluxe van filled full with the new talent in tow and some old grumpy buggers.
They’d either crash on the trampoline, the couches or in the van.
The compound was perfect for hosting traveling folks.
I am really happy to see the life Mickey made for himself up here in Oregon.
And to have witnessed his new chapters.
Being a son, a grandpa, a father to his grrrl’s daughters, and a Papa to his community here.
He loved his family and taking care of folks.
I still haven’t made it to either of the bars he built here.
Maybe someday. I’ll take a peek in and give my respects.
I knew he was in Ptown. He had stopped by to say hi and visit my shop a couple times. I knew about Cat’s Paw. And later Thunderbird. Just never made it over there. To return the visit.
But on one Fathers Day weekend.
The universe threw us back together randomly in Long Beach Washington. I was there with my guy and his club that were hosting a bike rally on the beach over that weekend.
I was so happy to see him and meet his grrrl. And her daughters.
They came out to the beach posted up along the rest of us and enjoyed the festivities like old familiar hats.
Mickey as usual got his bbq going and cooked up a bunch of food and began sharing it with everyone.
Introducing himself and making connection.
I loved it. Brought me back to Judah. And HB. Sunny days riding through the Mission on bikes as the boys skated with us to the next bar.
Mickey though very generous and open hearted. Was not someone to take lightly. He was the real deal. And would make sure you were put into line if need be.
I knew enough of his dark side in SF to know not to poke the bear when it was about.
He is another man to have pulled a knife on me during an argument while I tried to get him to leave a friends house.
His dark side was there. But it seems he learned to quell it’s reach as he aged.
I feel for your Daughter and your Mom. And your grand babies. Your partner and the grrrls.
All those you took under your wing. And those who loved you through it all.
I am happy we met Mr. Mickey.
And had the opportunity to witness decades of our being human, getting to share a name and getting to make a few really good memories worth remembering together.
Fly free Mr. Mickey. Rip up the Universe in that new light body of yours.
Your pillar still stands.



Love on your friends. Tell them you love them. Wish them well and even after they leave.
Look for their faces smiling at you when around the fire.
Pillars around the Fire.