Friday, June 24, 2005
it's a mad world
I wrote this yesterday but I couldn't post it cause my computer was fucked out of its skull AND my internet was down. Great timing. Go Microsoft. Bill Gates can go fuck himself.
Expletives aside, here is yesterday's post, although I won't be able to write more today because I have to make dinner for my dad, who otherwise would be eating ashes with a side of pineapple since my mom is still out of town, and then I must go to open-mike night (perhaps the cute Karma Police guy will be there!).
Here's what was supposed to be the post for June 23:
This is how I felt on Tuesday night and most of Wednesday:
All around me are familiar faces
Worn out places
Worn out faces
Bright and early for the daily races
Going no where
Going no where
Their tears are filling up their glasses
No expression
No expression
Hide my head I wanna drown my sorrow
No tomorrow
No tomorrow
And I find it kind of funny
I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve ever had...
-Gary Jules - Mad World
Despite -- or perhaps because of -- these dark thoughts, I had a lovely unweekend.
I feel a bit like a AA battery that has soaked up electronic juices for four-to-six hours in its charger.
That said, the city gets me down when I've just chilled out to the extreme on the island. A crazy lady on the ferry just about ruined the last ten pages of The Star of Kazan for me by babbling in my ear about what I know not. Plus Jack just called to give me a heads-up because he has reason to believe that The Bossi read all the emails we send at the office, and it's made me even more paranoid about work than I already was.
But I'm going to put that all aside for a moment, because I don't want to drive myself insane, and I want to tell you about my little non-electronic soaking in the country.
I arrived on the island yesterday morning in a very, very dark mood. This is a mood that hits me every three or four months, and it disturbs me rather deeply. I have dreams of vampires , and think about writing a short story from the point of view of a turkey vulture, and when I close my eyes I see empty-eyed skulls and lots and lots of blood. It is more or less the only time I consider putting myself on mood-altering pharmaceuticals.
At any rate, it was imperative that I fix myself, and quickly. One can only stand so many dreams of bloated fish in tiny tanks and huge barns filled with cows where I am the only human being for miles around. The first thing I did was to get some good food into my system. During the week I more or less live on coffee and sandwiches, which just doesn't cut it for me. I had some clam chowder, which is one of my favourite things, and some nice bread, and some pretty respectable wine (albeit with some flecks of cork in it because I always was poor at opening bottles). The next morning I made an omelette au fines herbs and some fresh orange juice and ate it on the porch with my fuzzy pink cat curled up in the chair beside me. I felt better, but not 100%.
So I went to the beach, which I've been meaning to do for ages. It was finally nice enough to actually do it, and do it the right way, wearing my bathing suit (just the top cause I didn't much feel like swimming, what with my fish dreams and the red tide we've seen lately), and spraying on some sunscreen that actually smelled like coconut (like it's supposed to). I brought my book, The Star of Kazan (expect that title to be dropped A LOT for the next little while), which is brilliant and which everyone young and old should read immediately, and I walked along the rocks and stared across the bay at the navy blue hills of the islands across the water. I went to the beach not like one of those blond faux-surfer-girl bunnies I see every time I go to the beach in the city. I went like a warrior into battle, not to reclaim territory, but simply to reclaim my sanity. It worked. It's back. Fuck meditation. The beach is the way to go.
A few remarkable things happened at the beach, so I decided to write them down. But before I quote them here, I will quote Morcheeba, who summed it my feelings about the healing powers of the ocean really nicely (aside from the line about "just you and I," because of course, it's just me now -- now and perhaps always):
Flocking to the sea
Crowds of people wait for me
Sea gulls scavenge
Steal ice cream
Worries vanish
Within my dream
I left my soul there,
Down by the sea
I lost control here
Living free
I left my soul there,
Down by the sea
I lost control here
Living free
Fishing boats sail past the shore
No singing may-day anymore
The sun is shining
The water's clear
Just you and I walk along the pier
I left my soul there,
Down by the sea
I lost control here
Living free.
-Morcheeba - The Sea
This is what I wrote this afternoon in my oft-neglected journal, while sitting on a log on the beach (I like to start my entries like a ship's log minus the longitude and latitude, because I can't be bothered with that kind of silliness):
Place: China Beach, The Island
Date: June 23, 2005
Time: 3:45 pm
Just watched three river otters frolicking in the bay. They swam right up to the rocks and popped their furry brown heads out of the water. They're such beautiful creatures, and I was atonished to see them swim closer until they were scarcely ten feet from me. I spoke to them as though they were my cats, and they just floated there, panting like wild brown puppies and staring at this strange, tall, and land-bound creature on the shore. As quickly as they had arrived, they were gone -- they had slipped so silently under the surface of the green, weed-flecked waves. I whistled to them, suddenly as lonely as if they had been my best friends in the whole desolate white world. They popped their heads out again before they left the bay, as if to bid me farewell. Then they were gone, and I stood once again alone on the rocky shore.
A monarch butterly flew so close to me that I was almost afraid. Its wings sounded deafening as a black raven's in the quiet. Perhaps he was attracted by the wild sweet peas in my hair, the flushed pink scent of their open blossoms. It was as if for a brief moment, nature knew, nature cared, nature would stay with me, if only for the flowers in my hair.
Alright there it is.
I have photos to post.
I have loads of news.
But it will have to wait.
Because miraculously, I appear to have acquired a life.
I'll be back, I promise.
-N
p.s. Is anyone in favour of my putting a list of music I'm listening to and books I'm reading on the sidebar? Or would that be tedious and terribly self-absorbed? Please let me know. I shant be insulted if you think it's the latter.
