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except for the occasional peek at soccer scores, the radar map (for the inevitable mayhem from the skies), and dispensing with hundreds of trash messages and viruses, this is the first time i've sat for any length of time behind a monitor in days. and extra days. not a sad time, to be truthful. when each useful message equates to about a hundred malignant ones, you have to ask yourself what the use is. and walk away, for awhile. overwhelmed by the sheer volume of what should have been written... forced, now, to condense it into convenient little impressions, separated by so much time. now that's discipline. which i've not been terribly good at, lately. sadly, i haven't given too much of a shit, either... bordering on reclusive. a regressive stretch... reminding me of what it was like when i was in my teens. which, incidentally, i don't miss... and don't really care to relive, thank you very much. my brain is still on that brief vacation... so i'd better get some of it down before the mist descends. pieces of four days, and three nights. not very lengthy... but the stuff of dreams when the weather turns nasty. like for the entire week since i returned. i never seem to get to the water as soon as i get to the ocean... though that's where i want to go, first. always with the deferred gratification. always with the unpacking and the frenzied conversations until the feeling drifts away in a fog of words, beer and heavy atmosphere. unexpectedly, Josie's new boyfriend's car was in the carport... a cop friend, in the military reserves. immediate apprehension. dispelled. a son of the Delta. family man. loves listening to and talking about music... heavy on the soul and blues. which, consequently, shifted Biggles' jaw into overdrive. a case of beer and 3AM was what it took to slow down the momentum. barely. best of all, he seems to genuinely care about her, and her kids... my radar tells me so. this will be a first. expectedly, the kids were all over the place... strung tight and twanging. and magnetized to the water, which was a spectacle, all to itself. never have i seen the Atlantic so... inanimate. flat. the only excuse for a wave the little crest and collapse next to the water's edge. the first day, it was a nice float on the boogie board over the occasional undulations. the next, ball-rattling cold. fifty-five degrees in the summer. no matter. it's impossible for anything that vast and all-encompassing to be anything other than spellbinding. the sporadic breaching of dolphin fins attested to that. hot Thai food. clear skies. alluring accents of young Russian and Irish girls. late afternoons of offshore breezes, biting flies, thin clouds, and brevity. done, all too quickly. and back to the scene of the crime, just as fast. |
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