Friday, February 11, 2005

friday a.m.

so simon didn't return last night. no phone calls, nothing. reuben didn't come back either. that is two nights in a row. can't say that i or anyone really missed him. there is a feeling that he is gone. hope simon is okay. well, okay maybe i shouldn't be so hard on reuben. he is human after all albeit an annoying one. in pirsig terms, there may be biological quality but not moral quality. whatever...

cloudy and overcast morning. the heavy moisture dampens the noises of the early morning traffic. nice walk to the café. bought a pack of shermans on the way. different habit in an old place. 30 days today. do i feel any different? sometimes it is hard to tell. physically, better. emotionally, the sensation is like holding a piece of kelp that has washed up on the beach. it is pliable. looks slippery but really isn't. gritty from the grains of sand that it is lying in. skin feels the sharpness of the granules, mind says it's okay. they are harmless.

the sensation causes other thoughts, images and emotions to appear the mind's shell. memories of an overcast day on the beach in san francis drake bay, point reyes national seashore. how long ago was that? to the right there were eroded cliffs topped with grass, thistle and dandelion. we walked the long curving length of the beach, heading west in a left handed direction. we returned walking in the damp vegetation along the edge of the cliff. the thistles were in bloom. the royalness of their purple were vibrant in the shadowless light. their spines were sharper than they looked.

flashes of scotland somewhere between my irises and my brain. form, color and environment became familiar for a fraction of a second. then the marin coast was back in my vision. we headed back to the warmth of the café by the parking lot. the four of us got a snack. or did we do that before the walk? does it matter? i remember two, who was the third? was it jen? it is fuzzy now.

i don't even remember what year it was. but i know it happened. yes, the smaller sequences get mixed up. there was another time later that i was in the area by myself. i remember that occasion. it was christmas day, 2001. a solitary drive from the grey embanked umbrella of sky in the sunset district to the stretch of sand and cliffs north of stinson beach. i stopped to pick a couple of dried thorny seed pods with ridged stems. i brought them home and wrapped them together with a black ribbon. they eventually traveled all the way to georgia with me. i don't know where they are now. probably i discarded them finally. i let go, tried to let go of artifacts of that life. no, it was not a life. it was a defective interstitial. one that would not end because it had no destination, no replacement. it is gone now. there are others that are either gone, going or lost. how does it make me feel? i don't know.

2 comments:

Tara said...

Reading that brought back memories of the days spent at Hay-On-Wye. The thick haze, the rocky crags, green pastures - ancient looking, yet the feeling you have been there before.

narthex said...

yeah, somehow sunny days and blue skies just can't get the same kind of contemplative mood as fog and mist.