We’re so wonderfully wonderfully wonderfully
Oh you know that I’d do anything for you…
We should have each other to dinner huh?
We should have each other with cream
Then curl up in the fire
Get up for awhile
It’s the grooviest thing
It’s the perfect dream
Hand in hand
Is the only way to land
And always the right way round
Not broken in pieces
Like hated little meeces…
How could we miss
Someone as dumb as this?
I love you… let’s go…
The Cure, Lovecats
So last week I headed out for a three thousand mile road trip. It shouldn’t have been that far, but at the end of the day, that’s what I actually drove. I love just taking off and going like that. As I drove out the first afternoon I couldn’t help but giggle, both at the imagined good times to come and the simple fact of being in movement. When I crossed into territory that I had never seen before, I felt like an adventurer in a story. Seeking undiscovered country.
I’m not going to try and put the weekend into any kind of order, nor try to give it a purpose or design. There was no structure, there was no reason, no point: it was simple, timeless, being. So instead, I’m going to throw out sense impressions, moments in time, stories related and shared… perhaps this will be entertaining to read, perhaps it will only be a gift to those who were there. In any case, it will be an accounting.
* * *
A crystal clear stream. 12 inches deep, 60 across. Sluggishly passing its way to the sea. Crowded by trees along its mostly vertical bank, dappled sunlight, distant noise of traffic and people. Squirrels sitting in the canopy dropping discards, plopping into the water and drawing fish in anticipation.
Ripe blackberries. And some not so ripe. Bitter. A plum tree, cut down and discarded for no better reason than aesthetics, fruit hanging from the limbs bare weeks from ripening. Sweet peas in bloom, sweet peas fruiting, and every step in between. Sometimes in the same place. A Pear tree, beckoning, teasing, not yet ready to be plucked. A single almond.
The lycanthrope, shuffling in, nostrils flaring and huffing. Tasting the air and pronouncing it good. Drunk. Crazy. Moving in closer still. A hasty, but yet eminently suave, retreat.
A new recipe: I now know how to make Pine Noodle Soup. I looked for it online and came up empty, but apparently, if you cut out the bark of a pine tree (be careful not to damage the tree too much), strip the inner bark, cut it into strips and thrice boil them, you get a somewhat bland but very nutritious noodle. Who knew 🙂
Imagine: he sits on a cliff, looking at the sea. A fishing trawler clears the edge of the bay. His face changes… “I want to swim out there and climb on board.”
His companion looks up in confusion, pieces together the scene: “Ah, the boat. Okay? ”
“It’s be cool, just to see what they’d do, see how long it took for anyone to notice…”
“They’d probably figure you made it out there, you could make it back so they’d just toss you overboard.”
“What would really suck is if I got all the way out there and the sides are higher than I thought so I can’t get on board.”
A Giggle: “No, what would really suck is if, when you got close, the boats’ wake pushed you under and back out through the props.”
“I’d just have to have something super floaty.” He mimes a circle around his arm, “like super water wings. Maybe even a pair on my thighs too. Then I could swim out there and not get pushed under.”
“Well… yeah, you might not sink, but you also sure as hell wouldn’t be doing any swimming!”
“Maybe… but if you could do it, you would. Anyone would. I should write a book, 1001 Things You Would Do I f You Could. Maybe I’ll have to work on it while I’m traveling, tonight I’ll write it in my journal – no. You should write it on your blog. Arm thingy’s and everything.”