Summers VonHesse

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[summersvonhesse]

Flipping through my playlists I hear memories. Those songs that are you, the ones I mourned to, the ones that bite at my soul. I think about deleting them, startng over, but then it would be like you never existed. I hold onto these little melodic pieces, a secret no one else knows. Listen to them, no one's the wiser.

A favorite is that dim lighting, cool evening city breeze blowing through the curtains. Skin on skin, I tease you, you smile, a woefully perfect lyric swoons in the background. Id never felt such an intense urge to run away and stay all at the same time. That was you.

Then theres those songs, playlist from younger years. The ones that smell like drugs, cigarettes, Chevy S-10s, resentment, and endless late night drives. The ones that defined our embattled state of youth, a communal bad trip to the same soundtrack. We all breathed those words, validity to our teenage  suffering.

Theres the one about ribbons and bows, some shitty pop country banter of the early 2000s. Maybe the only time I witnessed clarity in an otherwise mad man. I was 17, we smoked cocaine laced bowls out of a Hooka. Dancing around the kitchen high as a kite. I thought this was bonding with my Dad. It was the only time he ever once looked at me as a child, through his pancaked eyes, 3 day binge mentality, he said we need to stop this is wrong. Any time I hear this song I think about the innocence he afforded me for the briefest of moment. Maybe if I had sang more often,.... maybe if I'd been happy enough to dance. He wasn't a bad man.

And as I scroll through, I realize we never had songs. The person Id spent ten years of my life with. This silence is the saddest of all. An echo chamber of regret. I hated you.

I have a new song now, I dance to it regularly, drunken and naked in the kitchen. I cling onto the strongest man I've ever known as much as I cling to the lyrics. That one I'll keep to myself. The one about my wild man. My favorite arrangement of chords and vibrato.

This Playlist, I keep it around to brush up against all these memories. Steal away the moments in perfect arrangement of notes.

[summersvonhesse]

hat shaping

I stood there over the kitchen stove, steam pouring from a boiling pot onto my best black flat brimmed cowboy hat. Working the edges as the steam softened them, then brushing it off, this hat had to be perfect. A few tears escaped my eyes. I thought there is no way that old man could have known when he was standing in my kitchen teaching me how to shape up a hat real nice that in a short time I'd be here. Shaping one for his funeral by myself.

And I thought about all the things he had taught me over the last 2 years. A wealth of wisdom and knowledge of all things horses and lesson’s learned from a life growing up on the ranges of Oregon. Things from another time, relic shit you cant read in books. He had come into my life at the exact right moment and I into his. Ultimately he would end up living with me for most of the last year. He had a property farther out of town but I think both of us just liked the company.

Beyond losing a best friend and mentor, father figure, I lost the first person in my life that I knew loved me unconditionally. We had our late nights at the kitchen table or plopped out in chairs by the horses sharing life stories. We told each other best and worst of ourselves, secrets, regrets, whiskey confessionals of cowboys and cowgirls.

I got the call in the middle of the night the day before I was to return home from a trip to Mexico. He had been hit and killed in his truck on his way home. This unbreakable man that had rode bucking horses at Pendelton and made a career out of roping, this man was not supposed to go out like this.

He left me with a horse he'd put a year of time into. A horse that heads and heels and spins in circles, jumps on a trailer with a cluck of the tongue. A horse I put all the first rides on and he polished into something phenomenal. Every bit of his wisdom and soft hands can be felt through the movement of this horse.

I put on my nicest boots, a black lace western dress, grabbed my "war bag" as he called it (purse). Then stood there and looked at the perfectly shaped hat for a moment, it felt somber putting that thing on my head. No one at his funeral would know he taught me how to shape that hat up, it would just be another black hat at a cowboys farewell.

Old cowboy- you will be missed more than I could ever say. Love you.

[summersvonhesse]

Softened.

Feels like entertaining the words of a stranger reading my posts from years ago. It’s been 2 years and one month since I last posted anything. A different woman sits here today. Someone softened down from the breaking waves of life as I tried to stand on the shore. I think this is the way of a life well endured, a life of continuous growth. And perhaps when you close your eyes for the last time you can only hope to be but dust blowing in the wind. Ground down to something light and unbreakable. 

So, here I sit. There is a beautiful cross breeze blowing through my home, the quiet wind through the sparse vegetation outside the only noise. My faithful cat and dog keep company on the back porch giving me glances while they take in the heat of the setting sun. Lazy glances. They feel the instant relief that October brings from the unforgiving Arizona summers. And again we remember to love the sun instead of cursing it. There is little I like about this place and I tell my animal companions frequently, it will be over in a few years. We will see this out until a new wind carries me away tho, much as how I got here.

Not running. I lived with this relentless urge to run for all of my life, from every place. Simply getting in the truck and driving until I was over a sate line made the sense of anxiety lessen. Long drives into nowhere with no intent other than outrunning whatever this thing in my head was. It was the same with alcohol and drugs and working out for awhile. A cast of false addictions, one after another all trying to outrun myself. 

My time alone in the desert has brought me many gifts. The greatest being I can now sit with myself, no more running. A broken old cowboy who taught me much and loved me unconditionally. And a beautiful Canadian man who I feel I have loved for a million lifetimes before this one. I feel softened.

[summersvonhesse]

My las pic got taken down right quick. Eye roll. I’m wearing panties. 

[summersvonhesse]

Hey guys, it’s been a LOOOOOONG time. I’m going to start blogging over here again. So heyy 😈 stand by for my drama and bs. 

[summersvonhesse]

Who knew wine could be so sexy🤤Maybe its becuase it's been so long since I've had a drink and I crave alcohol like a mad woman. I had too much fun licking it up off the roses while it dripped down over me....sexy video time. Can be found on any of my sites today.

[summersvonhesse]

Hello and good day! You spoke about your education level limiting your income potential. Your brilliant mind certainly has not. Everything you do to earn your living is beautiful and elegant . I appreciate the bits of yourself you share for free here on your Tumblr blog. I just needed to thank you for sharing your beauty and for being a wonderful human.

Ah, thank you. I'll take the high compliment of being a beautiful human any day :)

[summersvonhesse]

Hi I want more free naked clips cause I love your bod....

I want to slow dance with Robert Redford....since we are saying stupid shit.

[summersvonhesse]

[summersvonhesse]

Moons been moved....

I saw you dripping wet in my mind. Surrounded by waters I was too afraid to wade in.

Currents, turning tides, pulling my hips into you. The moon sat over directing this madness. The arch and pull, of backs and skin, waves and water. The need.

This is gravity.

I've never wanted to pull something into me as the moon does. And as l arch my back and close my eyes to the I understand the universe for a second.

I saw it all dripping wet.

[summersvonhesse]

the art of the glance

0615 Dohuk Iraq….that’s 6:15 in the AM for all you non 24 hour time folks. The streets are quiet, shops still closed as we drive by looking for a coffee. The only movement is that of young men in sandals, pants rolled to their knees cleaning the sidewalks with water and squeegees. Keeping a clean sidewalk is life here. The unrelenting dust removed from crippled old walkways that at first glance look unkept. It is something that has impressed me, this diligence against the dust.

We spot an open coffee/tea shop, my driver stops to ask if they have coffee. I have come to wonder if he is asking not if they have coffee but if it is ok to bring me for coffee. You see in Arab culture these little coffee stops are reserved for the men only. You never see a woman at them. But I have yet to be turned away.

We sit, immediately two coffees are brought out. Nearly tossed with skill on the shitty plastic stool used for a table.Two of those tiny ass coffees I have come to have a very love hate relationship with when I travel. You see “progress" comes in the form of large American style coffee. Easily measured is a country's connectedness by the size of its morning beverages.  

I have yet to master the art of these tiny beverages. It takes a thoughtfulness, a concentration of mind for me to slow down, sit, make what is one gulp last for many tiny sips. This is an art. A meditation and I practice it with thought when I am given these opportunities. Really I shit you not.

Looking around,  I am totally out of place in so many ways. A couple tables of old men, old Iraqi Kurd men giving me glances I am having trouble deciphering. These people give nothing away, it it glorious. They have earned their caution and it’s something I well know and appreciate.

We trade glances like it’s some strange battle, never meeting eye contact. They are good these old men. I love their culture. Most would suppose they would stare this foreign women down, out of her place, and maybe if I was nervous they would. I find their entire demeanor amusing.

My diver walks off down the block in search of food, heads all turn, they speak amongst themselves. How strange this blonde, white, American woman left alone here. I light up a cigarette, something else women don't do. Smoke. Truly I am an anomaly to these men.

Wave down the coffee guy and order another in Kurdish from where I am sitting. Finally the one on my far right cracks, he smiles. I got him, the battle won.

Smiles are hard won here and I revel in my sweet victory.

[summersvonhesse]

Enjoy the Ride

Waiting in the shitty international terminal in Istanbul to board my flight to Erbil the crowd begins to form.  Only three white folks on the flight. One of them is clearly ex military, a contractor of some kind. Bald, tattooed, boots, built, he looks at me as I join the crowd for a second too long then makes every attempt to keep his back too me. Clearly I’m the confused liberal idiot. Clearly I’d like to jump your bones, guess another time. Wont be the last one of these handsome creatures I see. Maybe I should spend more time in Iraq I think? Lots of troubled lonely, “my types”. What the fuck, I actually thought that. I have so many problems.

They begin checking passports for boarding. The two Turkish airline workers laugh and smile amongst themselves as they confirm I am an American and I do actually intend to go to Iraq. Starring me up and down they shake their heads and stamp my passport. Major eye roll. No I bought the ticket by mistake.

So onward the Internet stripper goes into Kurdistan Iraq. As we land we are greeted by a field of Blackhawks and a couple in flight near by. It immediately hits home the lifestyle that is required to maintain peace in a region surrounded by conflict. This isn’t a drill.

Kurdistan is an autonomous region within Iraq. A brief history of the Kurds hardly does them any justice. Suffice to say they are a people who have fought for a peaceful independence, the right to exist, for as long as there has been time. Right now, for a blink in time, they have some, peace.

The day I arrived was their parliamentary elections. Brilliant I know. Add checking election schedules to list of high risk travel regions for future notice. I was informed the day I left there was a chance my flight could be canceled, but not to worry this is normal, don’t panic. No, this is not normal at all thinks very midwestern white American girl. But damn I’m down, sounds like an adventure!

Upon arriving I was met by my guide who I found online. He dropped me at my hotel. I then immediately contacted a friend I also made online come pick me up. Realize this sounds like a bad idea and there was a chance it could have been but I have learned you must trust some people if we ever want the world to work.

I made this friend sometime ago. By chance through Instagram. There are some perks to being an “instafamous” nude model. “Pesh” we will call him is a Peshmerga Army Officer. I started talking to him when I was on that balcony in Sarajevo Bosnia last spring. He messaged me on Instagram, his profile looked interesting, and I have a problem with anything in uniform, I must look, so I clicked it and down the rabbit hole I went.

Who were these Kurds? the Peshmerga? I had heard all these words on the nightly news for years but I didn’t actually know anything about them or their history. Immensely intrigued within hours I found my new favorite people, called my husband and told him I was going to Iraq.

I was coming really undone in those days. I’m not entirely sure if he believed me or not. He initially told me that Americans couldn’t travel there so I doubt it. It was on that balcony I knew our marriage was coming to an end. Knew he wasn’t going to be with me through this shit I was going through. I was sitting up on that stupid fucking balcony, chain smoking, doing everything I could not to drink, coming to terms with some of the worst thoughts in my life, and Kurdistan came to me. The Kurds. These mountains. These people. This place.

It is a popular saying that “ The Kurds have no friends but the mountains”. Of this I can relate. I can relate to so much here, more that I wish I could. Over the last year I have learned to listen to the universe when it sends me signs and just take them. I am here because I am supposed to be.

As first days go this one was phenomenal on an experience level, and a soulful one. Meeting a friend from the other side of the world is priceless. Seeing the most ancient ruins on the planet and talking with members of a small minority religion something most people will never get to do. The thing that moved me the most today was the joy I saw in all these kids hanging out of cars like dogs. At first it struck me as, well they just have a different respect for life than we do over in the seatbelt world. And it occurred to me that yes they do, they are just letting their kids enjoy the ride...life is short

ENJOY THE RIDE, my friends. More on Kurdistan to come :)

[summersvonhesse]

When the pussy ain’t happy….nobody happy. You remember that boys😉

[summersvonhesse]

Do you like Lebanese guys?

I dislike all men equally.

[summersvonhesse]

Can I masterbate to your photos sexy

Sure, but you owe me 5$ everytime you do...you can mail me the amount at the end of the month 🤣

[summersvonhesse]

[summersvonhesse]

Resting place for light and tired minds….I’d love for you to lay your weary head on my belly. Speak your thoughts while my fingers play magic on your skin. I like your thoughts….they are better than my own.