(no subject)
August 4th, 2004
1:05 PM: Kill Kare
So I’m here. Yesterday I hadn’t even packed anything… Up too late last night - talked to Jeff about things; we hadn’t seen each other since Monday when we hung out. I’m not sure how I feel at the moment. I think I feel like I should feel excited, but I don’t. Just tired. So insanely tired. What I want right now it to fall asleep in a corner and pretend nothing exists…
But I’m here. The Island Runner has just arrived, so more later I guess
5:39PM: Marina
Riding my bike here. It’s like flying: gliding through the air. It is so different from anything else. I don’t ride the way other people do. It’s not something I put much effort into. My bike is old and rusty… I suspect is was a 15 speed bike once upon a time, but having never learned to use the left side it rarely is changed…. For six weeks I once left it on campus, not caring enough to find it… I say I have no real attachment to this bike, but I suspect if someone took it away (the word her, pops into my head) I would be unable to adjust to the change. I ride, something carefree, often because it is the fastest way to get from point A to point B. I don’t try to push myself, and if I go fast it is only because the amount of effort does not exceed some invisible line for me… instead, I simply want to get where I’m going. But still, one handed, carefree and solitary.
The smell of wood--smoke assaults me as I careen down a path, swerving not to hit a woman. My eyes water slightly, but I enjoy the smell; it makes me hungry, although I’ve just eaten a bag of cookies. Stopping briefly at Willow I grab my sweater, glimpsing Laura and Meryl in Josh’s ten as they try to wrestle cigarettes away from him. My mother is cooking food, as she has to leave soon.
Out again. Peddling, bumpy, over roots and moss and then onto the road again,
I’m in the Marina; the steady thump thump of music has just died because the owner closed the store for the day. On my left I can hear the soft clacking of the docks, and to my right, two children scream in the water. Island Runner has just left on the last trip of the day, leaving four boys standing on the dock waving. 17 motorboats, and the sound of firecrackers. In the distance a flock of seagulls move and circle over the water.
The leaves of the maple tree in front of me remind me of rags, hanging limply in the quiet air. As a whole they look tattered and sad, as if someone forgot to iron and starch them this morning. The poplar across the channel is lopsided, almost as if the wind has blown too fiercely. The undersides of the leaves are turned towards me, glinting slivery in the sunlight. With only the mainsail up a small boat glides effortlessly past the pier. In comparison a loud Boston Whaler races by the harbor, and through the channel between the islands.
I’m getting tired and fidgety. Unable to still stand still I mover my hands over anything around me…
8:15 PM: Willow
A fiery pink disk. I watch as it descends into the mountains. Lightly laved with lavender clouds, it reminds me of some prom dresses: the more daring, and occasionally stunning. Over the water, great puffy boulders like clouds are highlighted in pale pink and violet…. Moments ago the entire place was bathed in gold; shadows and light on the tree by the water. Great roots knurly twisted and intricate are highlighted in the last burst of sunlight. Watching the sun. First barely touching the mountains, but as the seconds pass, slowly descending until only the top rim glows like a bright cola in the ashy clouds.
I gobble at my food, seemingly starved, but it isn’t the food. Something naws inside me, trying to fill some unnamable void in me…
Gulls pass by, dark against a dim sky. Skim lightly over the water while others seems to play in the air. Three soft screeches from them, and they are gone. The lonely twittering of two birds on either side of me. In front of me: the unlit campfire, grass, a metal boat on stones, more bright green grass and then gray rippled water. It doesn’t shine, instead looking dark and ominous, as if right before a storm. Across the water dark green trees of the shoreline, and the blue-ish gray clouds, pale ice-gray sky….
1:05 PM: Kill Kare
So I’m here. Yesterday I hadn’t even packed anything… Up too late last night - talked to Jeff about things; we hadn’t seen each other since Monday when we hung out. I’m not sure how I feel at the moment. I think I feel like I should feel excited, but I don’t. Just tired. So insanely tired. What I want right now it to fall asleep in a corner and pretend nothing exists…
But I’m here. The Island Runner has just arrived, so more later I guess
5:39PM: Marina
Riding my bike here. It’s like flying: gliding through the air. It is so different from anything else. I don’t ride the way other people do. It’s not something I put much effort into. My bike is old and rusty… I suspect is was a 15 speed bike once upon a time, but having never learned to use the left side it rarely is changed…. For six weeks I once left it on campus, not caring enough to find it… I say I have no real attachment to this bike, but I suspect if someone took it away (the word her, pops into my head) I would be unable to adjust to the change. I ride, something carefree, often because it is the fastest way to get from point A to point B. I don’t try to push myself, and if I go fast it is only because the amount of effort does not exceed some invisible line for me… instead, I simply want to get where I’m going. But still, one handed, carefree and solitary.
The smell of wood--smoke assaults me as I careen down a path, swerving not to hit a woman. My eyes water slightly, but I enjoy the smell; it makes me hungry, although I’ve just eaten a bag of cookies. Stopping briefly at Willow I grab my sweater, glimpsing Laura and Meryl in Josh’s ten as they try to wrestle cigarettes away from him. My mother is cooking food, as she has to leave soon.
Out again. Peddling, bumpy, over roots and moss and then onto the road again,
I’m in the Marina; the steady thump thump of music has just died because the owner closed the store for the day. On my left I can hear the soft clacking of the docks, and to my right, two children scream in the water. Island Runner has just left on the last trip of the day, leaving four boys standing on the dock waving. 17 motorboats, and the sound of firecrackers. In the distance a flock of seagulls move and circle over the water.
The leaves of the maple tree in front of me remind me of rags, hanging limply in the quiet air. As a whole they look tattered and sad, as if someone forgot to iron and starch them this morning. The poplar across the channel is lopsided, almost as if the wind has blown too fiercely. The undersides of the leaves are turned towards me, glinting slivery in the sunlight. With only the mainsail up a small boat glides effortlessly past the pier. In comparison a loud Boston Whaler races by the harbor, and through the channel between the islands.
I’m getting tired and fidgety. Unable to still stand still I mover my hands over anything around me…
8:15 PM: Willow
A fiery pink disk. I watch as it descends into the mountains. Lightly laved with lavender clouds, it reminds me of some prom dresses: the more daring, and occasionally stunning. Over the water, great puffy boulders like clouds are highlighted in pale pink and violet…. Moments ago the entire place was bathed in gold; shadows and light on the tree by the water. Great roots knurly twisted and intricate are highlighted in the last burst of sunlight. Watching the sun. First barely touching the mountains, but as the seconds pass, slowly descending until only the top rim glows like a bright cola in the ashy clouds.
I gobble at my food, seemingly starved, but it isn’t the food. Something naws inside me, trying to fill some unnamable void in me…
Gulls pass by, dark against a dim sky. Skim lightly over the water while others seems to play in the air. Three soft screeches from them, and they are gone. The lonely twittering of two birds on either side of me. In front of me: the unlit campfire, grass, a metal boat on stones, more bright green grass and then gray rippled water. It doesn’t shine, instead looking dark and ominous, as if right before a storm. Across the water dark green trees of the shoreline, and the blue-ish gray clouds, pale ice-gray sky….