dangling above the ocean
School has been particularily horrible recently. I've been having to deal with passive-agressive incompetent teachers, one in particular who has cited me with an "attitude problem."
My health has been pretty funky as well, I'm raising these colored bumps on my skin that have no external origin, frequent headaches, shooting pains in my chest, and an engorged lymph node in my cheek. Got an xray yesterday.
Also went to the beach yesterday. This morning we woke up and ate fast food, chugged coffee and went out searching for locations for our film. Skipping around tight turns, catching glimpses of the sea, Caitlin and I both notice a strange, unmarked road that seems to lead nowhere. We keep going, having a destination and all. Our destination is a secret path that leads to a private cliffside knoll, where I have watched four hawks mating, tracing thermals like fighter pilots. We get there and it's shitting buckets. We decide to turn around. We return to the secret road - no rain - park.
We walk a short distance and find and abandoned campground. We are out on a headland, the water is about forty feet below us, down a very steep hill - almost a cliff. I spot a rope swing.
The thing is ages old, and as I'm standing there with the seat between my legs and the whole ocean spreading out before me; I get a rush of deja vu, and assume that it is the moment of clarity rewarded before death. I will not, can not, get on this swing.
The sun breaks - a miracle. Camera's rolling. I count to three.
And I'm off.
My health has been pretty funky as well, I'm raising these colored bumps on my skin that have no external origin, frequent headaches, shooting pains in my chest, and an engorged lymph node in my cheek. Got an xray yesterday.
Also went to the beach yesterday. This morning we woke up and ate fast food, chugged coffee and went out searching for locations for our film. Skipping around tight turns, catching glimpses of the sea, Caitlin and I both notice a strange, unmarked road that seems to lead nowhere. We keep going, having a destination and all. Our destination is a secret path that leads to a private cliffside knoll, where I have watched four hawks mating, tracing thermals like fighter pilots. We get there and it's shitting buckets. We decide to turn around. We return to the secret road - no rain - park.
We walk a short distance and find and abandoned campground. We are out on a headland, the water is about forty feet below us, down a very steep hill - almost a cliff. I spot a rope swing.
The thing is ages old, and as I'm standing there with the seat between my legs and the whole ocean spreading out before me; I get a rush of deja vu, and assume that it is the moment of clarity rewarded before death. I will not, can not, get on this swing.
The sun breaks - a miracle. Camera's rolling. I count to three.
And I'm off.