Bedtime: 3:15am

Boatbuilding last day begins: 8:00am.

I can't feel my fingertips beneath the thick layer of marine caulk. My fingernails are freshly painted pink from my RPG. I have a fantastic boyfriend. I continue to be predictably attracted to tall, skinny gamers with long hair. I need to go to sleep now. Come see the boat launch tomorrow. If it rains, it's good luck.

Morning, and Look!

I'm still half in dreamland, half a foot in sleep and half a foot in character. The other foot is all me, pulled towards the almmost-maudlin, the listening-to-intensely-sad-songs and remembering things. We all need mornings like this; it's the morning before a birth, before the birth of my boat, and so I retread endings a little bit.

I'm more in love with life, with my life, with the lives that intersect mine in various ways, every day. When you use a pottery wheel the clay flops around at first as it spins in a circle until it very suddenly becomes a perfect, perfectly centred cylendar between your hands. Then you can pull the walls of the pot up and they just... come. It's like magic, having them flow upwards like that after wrestling with the clay to get it centred. That's where my life is now; I've centred it, it's where I needed it, and the walls are rising.

I want to capture this feeling on 'paper'. I want you to feel this thing inside me right now: it's nostalgia maybe? It's a very powerful love for my past, a little sad for the fact that it's over, but very strong. I know that in the future I'll look back on this point and realise that I made mistakes, especially in the strange and complicated dance that is my relationship with the Juggler now. I know, too, that it won't matter so much. My friends feel like pillars, huge strong logs thrust up through me in a rock-steady support. I don't think I could wobble if I wanted to, though let's face it-- who wants to?

So, I'm retreading endings, and I can't fall down while I'm doing it. I remember the folk festival days in Kynnin's mom's house, both with Kynnin there and with Jan too, and the music playing, and walking down the road to the Fest. I remember that day, laying on his futon frame up in the room in Langley, that I thought: we will look back on this day as the beginning of something, as us starting out together beign crazy twentysomethings. I remember the moon through my bedroom window before I even met any of you, any of you at all, and crying because it was beautiful and I had no one to tell. I remember the trees I loved in my home growing up. I remember the airport, and Jan. I remember the feel of my boat under my hand.

My boat. Off, now, to finish her.

It Used To Be

...that only relationships gave me this feeling, an excited, anticipatory, connected, solid, steady, lively, alive feeling. Now my life does. My boat does. My future does. My friends do. My pets do. My garden does. My time-commitments do. My relationships, big and small r, do still as well.

How's that for awesome?

PS My boat floats, even with five people in it, and it has a single tiny nailhole leak that I need to patch. It is the most beautiful boat. It's a flat-bottomed skiff, so you sit really flat on the water, low, and you really feel the motion of the waves. It's nothing like the Zodiac, where you're buyant up above everything and racing.

I'm A Fan

...but not usually of Richartd Brautigan. Nonetheless, I like this one a lot.

Deer Tracks - Richard Brautigan

Beautiful, sobbing
high-geared fucking
and then to lie silently
like deer tracks in the
freshly-fallen snow beside
the one you love.
That's all.

While I'm at it, here's most of a poem by Maggie Estep, with the last bit that I don't like left off.

FUCK ME - Maggie Estep

FUCK ME
I'm all screwed up so
FUCK ME.

FUCK ME
and take out the garbage
feed the cat and FUCK ME
you can do it, I know you can.

FUCK ME
and theorize about
Sado Masochism's relationship
to classical philosophy
tell me how this stimulates
the fabric of most human relationships,
I love that kind of pointless intellectualism
so do it again and
FUCK ME.

Stop being logical
stop contemplating
the origins of evil
and the beauty of death
this is not a TV movie about Plato sex life,
this is FUCK ME
so FUCK ME

It's the pause that refreshes
just add water and
FUCK ME.

Yeah. I do have some sex lined up in the relatively near future and I'll stop with this stuff then. Don't worry.

Haha!

I gave my koi some sprouted peas to play with awhile back, and she ate most of them. Two she left, and now they're growing in the tank.

Cute.

Wonder if they'll eat the leaves?

Zombiewalk

No, I didn't attend this year. Yes, I will next year.

Someone really took this picture. Isn't it iconic? Other highlight: Jesus-zombie with a pin which said something like 'he has risen'.



http://www.flickr.com/groups/vancouver_zombiewalk_2005/pool/

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You’re in my soul