(no subject)
There's something deeply comforting about rain on the roof, curling up under a heavy quilt, driving through thunderstorms in watertight vehicles, street light halos, enormous old rain boots.
Reading old books and writing with fountain pens, by the unsteady light of three tall white candles stuck in old jars.
I went for a drive around the island with my father in an ancient pickup truck. This is a very Nantucket thing to do; in the midst of any ruinous, destructive storm you will find people here driving around the island, gawking, actively seeking out downed trees and flooded intersections.
My neighbour plans to launch a skiff in the puddle on my road as soon as the wind slows enough to safely venture out of doors.
It is not quite low enough yet. Tomorrow, maybe.
It's November and my head is infected with the heady rush of mental overexertion. This month is about creating a new set of people to live inside me for as long as I am myself, and that in itself is ritualistically satisfying.
This has become an incidental journal, one I update on days when I feel like it (as opposed to my other, which I update on days when I'm conscious).
I like that.
Reading old books and writing with fountain pens, by the unsteady light of three tall white candles stuck in old jars.
I went for a drive around the island with my father in an ancient pickup truck. This is a very Nantucket thing to do; in the midst of any ruinous, destructive storm you will find people here driving around the island, gawking, actively seeking out downed trees and flooded intersections.
My neighbour plans to launch a skiff in the puddle on my road as soon as the wind slows enough to safely venture out of doors.
It is not quite low enough yet. Tomorrow, maybe.
It's November and my head is infected with the heady rush of mental overexertion. This month is about creating a new set of people to live inside me for as long as I am myself, and that in itself is ritualistically satisfying.
This has become an incidental journal, one I update on days when I feel like it (as opposed to my other, which I update on days when I'm conscious).
I like that.