(07/03/00)["Living on an island."] I live in a small hut on a tiny island in a river. The river is flooded and raging. The only way I can get to town is to go hand over hand up a rope tied to the high embankment. I shinny up the rope and crawl through a plastic tarp hiding my entrance. I am in a backyard of a friend of mine. He steps out the back door and says Hi. I ask if his wife is in. He says yes and I go in to visit her. She has built a pottery studio in the house and is busy working on a new piece. I watch her as she is burying a pot in the ashes of a fireplace kiln. Another hot kiln is roaring in an alcove next to the room. I tell her I like her studio and the fact that she built her special space just for her artistic needs. She is going to give me a pot as a gift. She steps around the corner into the living room. I peek in and see ordinary couch and chairs and so on. She hands me a lovely pot. I thank her and go back to the entrance and shinny down the rope to my island. I am approaching the hut and become concerned that someone dangerous is in there waiting for me. I enter cautiously. Sure enough, there is a man there. I pull out a yellow shotgun and point it at him saying back into that corner. If you try and escape I will shoot. I dial 911 on my cell phone for the police. He smiles and pretends to sit up straight or stand up. He is deliberately baiting me. I am poised to shoot. I don't want to kill him, but if I must I will. I warn him again that he had better sit still. At the last moment. I point the gun at his foot thinking I'd just wound him, not kill him. I fire one shot, then reload one handed, quite skillfully. We wait for the police.