“Two hundred hours, darkness, the Gunnar Myrdal:
all around the old man, running water sang mysteriously in metal pipes. As the ship sliced open the black sea east of Nova Scotia, the horizontal faintly pitched, bow to stern, as if despite its great steel competence the ship were uneasy and could solve the problem of a liquid hill only by cutting through it quickly; as if its stability depended on such a glossing over of flotation’s terrors. There was another world below–this was the problem. Another world below that had volume but no form. By day the sea was blue surface and whitecaps, a realistic navigational challenge, and the problem could be overlooked. By night, though, the mind went forth and dove down through the yielding–the violently lonely–nothingness on which the heavy steel ship traveled, and in every moving swell you saw a travesty of grids, you saw how truly and forever lost a man would be six fathoms under. Dry land lacked this z-axis. Dry land was like being awake. Even in chartless desert you could drop to your knees and pound land with your fist and land didn’t give. Of course the ocean, too, had a skin of wakefulness. But every point on this skin was a point where you could sink and by sinking disappear.”
Another compelling passage from the book I’m reading now. I still have a long way to go still, though.
My mom brought home a kitten the other day. I’ll only see her on weekends but she’s a tiny, cute little thing. Well, she’s actually a full grown cat at this point I think, but she’s so petite because she was without a family and home for so long and hadn’t eaten in a long while. We decided on the name Bella Rae for her, since my mother didn’t like Farrah after Farrah Fawcett who just passed.
I ran into folks from high school last night. It wasn’t pleasant in the least. C’est la vie, right?
I got my hair cut. I think I like it even though I initially didn’t. It’s not so long now that it’s too hot to wear it down in the summer.
My car’s heat shield protector thingamajig fell off yesterday.
I have been listening to MJ non-stop and throwing dance parties/tributes in his honor.
I found the perfect spot to sit and read all afternoon. I shall inhabit it in the forthcoming week.
I still haven’t worked out this summer, other than the two hiking days I had. I feel like I should since it’s so beautiful, sunny and perfect out. But I don’t know how to begin.
I’m afraid of the summer slipping away and the reality of school and work and responsibilities barreling down on me like a freight train.
I want to live by a beach and walk there everyday and relax with a book. I don’t want skin cancer or wrinkles.
I want to lose weight but am increasingly not caring due to the fact that losing weight has always been a concern of mine and has never gotten me anywhere but disappointed with myself.
I want to rebel against society and social etiquette and commonplace, expected things.
I want to drive in my car across the country, through the midwest, through rolling plains, into the west, into the sun, into LA, onto the beach. And then drive back.
I want to get out of my head and into life. I hear and read and watch movies about people who are truly happy and content with life, but I have yet to meet or witness someone who truly AND completely is. Someone who casts aside the pretension of ambition, the competitiveness of the city and the day and age we live in, and the all-consuming greed associated with money.
It’s okay. I can’t complain.