It is a complex bug day. As I was bringing the trash out to the barrel a bug fell out of the apple tree and into my shirt, where I crushed it. It was impulsive and I wish I hadn't. On looking at it I saw it was a harmless bug, one that if it hadn't been wiggling against my breast wouldn't have given me any worries.
The cricket that was by my bed yesterday had moved to the back stairs. As I was getting ready to hang the whites on the line I saw him there, hiding in the corner. I gathered him up and put him outside where he belonged.
Part of the white load of laundry was made up of old tablecloths my grandfather decided he didn't need. One was very old; monogrammed witht he letters EF. I think it must have belonged to his mother, Emily Faulkner. Most of the discoloration on the linens came out, although there are still a few rusty spots and a couple little holes.
Clinging to the side of a lace tablecloth was a big spider. Spiders scare me, at least when I don't recognize them. I have spent some time studying spiders so I needn't fear them but the brown recluse still scares me to death. Until I can tell a spider is NOT a brown recluse I try to stay away. I was calm with this spider and was able to fling him away without injury.
After so many bugs I feel like taking a bath but there is no water pressure. I wonder what hoses are on outside.
Thursday, July 31
Gerrit Lansing showed up as Johnny Cash for dinner at Jalapeno’s before his reading. Met Patrick Doud on the street (where he crouched and watched as I tried to park in an impossible space). Pirate talk and margaritas and Tim and Xtina were late but no worry, Jim Dunn kept us rowdy…
So many people up at Artspace there was no room to sit and people I haven’t seen in months or years and people I don’t really know but that know me, people people people. Open mic with the muffin man and Spleen and Adam with a bass and Bob singing about CNN and thank goodness when Jack Evans read. Look for his chapbook this fall from Pressed Wafer. Jack moved his used record store, Mystery Train, to Gloucester several years ago. I like Jack. I’m sure somebody else will write about his reading, maybe Xtina or James. If they don’t I’ll give it a try.
Gerrit charms me out of my shoes all the time. He gave a great reading, lots of city stuff, some pointed and political, and his lovely spring poem at the end.
Nice to see Kevin G. out in Gloucester.
I have to go to work now, it’s been a long time since I’ve done that. Wish me luck.
So many people up at Artspace there was no room to sit and people I haven’t seen in months or years and people I don’t really know but that know me, people people people. Open mic with the muffin man and Spleen and Adam with a bass and Bob singing about CNN and thank goodness when Jack Evans read. Look for his chapbook this fall from Pressed Wafer. Jack moved his used record store, Mystery Train, to Gloucester several years ago. I like Jack. I’m sure somebody else will write about his reading, maybe Xtina or James. If they don’t I’ll give it a try.
Gerrit charms me out of my shoes all the time. He gave a great reading, lots of city stuff, some pointed and political, and his lovely spring poem at the end.
Nice to see Kevin G. out in Gloucester.
I have to go to work now, it’s been a long time since I’ve done that. Wish me luck.
Wednesday, July 30
When I woke up this morning there was a big black cricket on the floor by the foot of my bed. What does that mean?
There are things I didn’t write about my trip. For most of the time I felt helpless, or helpful-less. I really didn’t know anything. All I had to offer was unskilled labor and the ability to mix drinks. That left me mostly doing nothing until 5 o’clock, cocktail hour. At first I started to do all the dishes and cooking but resented that quickly and the guys often got to it before I did. All I could do of that was my fair share. By the end of the trip I did know a few things, like how to let the jib out when we were tacking, how to adjust the compass (needed to take my bra and glasses off for that one), how to get things ready to go to shore and how to pump air out of a diesel engine. Still I felt pretty dumb. I learned how to tie a few knots and practiced them often. I can tie a bowline with my eyes closed now, or I could by the time I left the boat.
Dreams were odd and vivid on the water. One night I dreamt that there were 6 people missing at sea, the three of us among them. When we did return I found that my mother had decided to kill herself since I was missing and the fact that I was found wasn’t going to change that. She had made up her mind. I spent the rest of the dream trying to find her in a hall of so many rooms to keep her from killing herself. Then there was a dream of someone kissing my torso, lovely gentle kisses like wet leaves. And sounds on the boat coming into dreams- constant bilge water background.
Being a girl on a boat with two guys. Little embarrassments all around and distance to prevent fondness. Wanting sometimes a hug goodnight after being alone for so much of the day and quiet even when I wasn’t alone—what have I got to say about boats or girls? None of it, excepting the hug on Mark’s melancholy day. Nervous to ask to make stops on shore, my silly ways… and they wouldn’t let me pay for anything. Then little bursts of affection, quickly covered up, and tenderness that can’t be put into words.
I think I’ve already lost a good amount of what I meant to say, it’s probably just as well.
There are things I didn’t write about my trip. For most of the time I felt helpless, or helpful-less. I really didn’t know anything. All I had to offer was unskilled labor and the ability to mix drinks. That left me mostly doing nothing until 5 o’clock, cocktail hour. At first I started to do all the dishes and cooking but resented that quickly and the guys often got to it before I did. All I could do of that was my fair share. By the end of the trip I did know a few things, like how to let the jib out when we were tacking, how to adjust the compass (needed to take my bra and glasses off for that one), how to get things ready to go to shore and how to pump air out of a diesel engine. Still I felt pretty dumb. I learned how to tie a few knots and practiced them often. I can tie a bowline with my eyes closed now, or I could by the time I left the boat.
Dreams were odd and vivid on the water. One night I dreamt that there were 6 people missing at sea, the three of us among them. When we did return I found that my mother had decided to kill herself since I was missing and the fact that I was found wasn’t going to change that. She had made up her mind. I spent the rest of the dream trying to find her in a hall of so many rooms to keep her from killing herself. Then there was a dream of someone kissing my torso, lovely gentle kisses like wet leaves. And sounds on the boat coming into dreams- constant bilge water background.
Being a girl on a boat with two guys. Little embarrassments all around and distance to prevent fondness. Wanting sometimes a hug goodnight after being alone for so much of the day and quiet even when I wasn’t alone—what have I got to say about boats or girls? None of it, excepting the hug on Mark’s melancholy day. Nervous to ask to make stops on shore, my silly ways… and they wouldn’t let me pay for anything. Then little bursts of affection, quickly covered up, and tenderness that can’t be put into words.
I think I’ve already lost a good amount of what I meant to say, it’s probably just as well.
When I woke up this morning there was a big black cricket on the floor by the foot of my bed. What does that mean?
There are things I didn’t write about my trip. For most of the time I felt helpless, or helpful-less. I really didn’t know anything. All I had to offer was unskilled labor and the ability to mix drinks. That left me mostly doing nothing until 5 o’clock, cocktail hour. At first I started to do all the dishes and cooking but resented that quickly and the guys often got to it before I did. All I could do of that was my fair share. By the end of the trip I did know a few things, like how to let the jib out when we were tacking, how to adjust the compass (needed to take my bra and glasses off for that one), how to get things ready to go to shore and how to pump air out of a diesel engine. Still I felt pretty dumb. I learned how to tie a few knots and practiced them often. I can tie a bowline with my eyes closed now, or I could by the time I left the boat.
Dreams were odd and vivid on the water. One night I dreamt that there were 6 people missing at sea, the three of us among them. When we did return I found that my mother had decided to kill herself since I was missing and the fact that I was found wasn’t going to change that. She had made up her mind. I spent the rest of the dream trying to find her in a hall of so many rooms to keep her from killing herself. Then there was a dream of someone kissing my torso, lovely gentle kisses like wet leaves. And sounds on the boat coming into dreams- constant bilge water background.
Being a girl on a boat with two guys. Little embarrassments all around and distance to prevent fondness. Wanting sometimes a hug goodnight after being alone for so much of the day and quiet even when I wasn’t alone—what have I got to say about boats or girls? None of it, excepting the hug on Mark’s melancholy day. Nervous to ask to make stops on shore, my silly ways… and they wouldn’t let me pay for anything. Then little bursts of affection, quickly covered up, and tenderness that can’t be put into words.
I think I’ve already lost a good amount of what I meant to say, it’s probably just as well.
There are things I didn’t write about my trip. For most of the time I felt helpless, or helpful-less. I really didn’t know anything. All I had to offer was unskilled labor and the ability to mix drinks. That left me mostly doing nothing until 5 o’clock, cocktail hour. At first I started to do all the dishes and cooking but resented that quickly and the guys often got to it before I did. All I could do of that was my fair share. By the end of the trip I did know a few things, like how to let the jib out when we were tacking, how to adjust the compass (needed to take my bra and glasses off for that one), how to get things ready to go to shore and how to pump air out of a diesel engine. Still I felt pretty dumb. I learned how to tie a few knots and practiced them often. I can tie a bowline with my eyes closed now, or I could by the time I left the boat.
Dreams were odd and vivid on the water. One night I dreamt that there were 6 people missing at sea, the three of us among them. When we did return I found that my mother had decided to kill herself since I was missing and the fact that I was found wasn’t going to change that. She had made up her mind. I spent the rest of the dream trying to find her in a hall of so many rooms to keep her from killing herself. Then there was a dream of someone kissing my torso, lovely gentle kisses like wet leaves. And sounds on the boat coming into dreams- constant bilge water background.
Being a girl on a boat with two guys. Little embarrassments all around and distance to prevent fondness. Wanting sometimes a hug goodnight after being alone for so much of the day and quiet even when I wasn’t alone—what have I got to say about boats or girls? None of it, excepting the hug on Mark’s melancholy day. Nervous to ask to make stops on shore, my silly ways… and they wouldn’t let me pay for anything. Then little bursts of affection, quickly covered up, and tenderness that can’t be put into words.
I think I’ve already lost a good amount of what I meant to say, it’s probably just as well.
morning is nearly over and i feel like it shouldn't have even begun yet. my head hurts and i am tired and grumpy. this makes me sad because i will be seeing lots pf people today and i don't want to be tired and grumpy when i see them...
celtic has their first match of the season and i can't wait. funny how a girl can come to love football in just a few years. also the lads- they are lots of fun. nothing like spending quality time in a pub. then gerrit is reading with jack evans tonight at artspace and lots of friends are coming out to fish city to see that.
okay, there is much more good than bad in the world. i promise not to be grumpy by this evening, but i am not so sure i can do anything about being tired...
celtic has their first match of the season and i can't wait. funny how a girl can come to love football in just a few years. also the lads- they are lots of fun. nothing like spending quality time in a pub. then gerrit is reading with jack evans tonight at artspace and lots of friends are coming out to fish city to see that.
okay, there is much more good than bad in the world. i promise not to be grumpy by this evening, but i am not so sure i can do anything about being tired...
Tuesday, July 29
Just helped Mike County move to Gloucester. Come on, guys, all the cool kids are doing it. The North Shore. It's the new New York. But without the Yankees. Thank goodness.
Domestic compromises. With roses from the garden on the window sill next to the bed there will inevitably be rose petals on the floor. With the bed so close to the window the vacuum won't fit in that space. I will not give up the roses.
I am so tired lately, since I got off the boat. I don't quite know why.
Two notes in the saga of Gata:
I hung a sign on the front hedge saying that she was missing and asking anyone to call if they knew where she was. I was on the bed when I heard a group of little girls read the sign out loud to eachother. They started to call out for Gata as they continued their walk. An hour or so later, they called. They had seen what they thought was Gata on the road that goes behind our house. When I went out to the backyard she was there, answering my calls with nervous meows. I don't know where she went when she was out, but god bless little girls.
The Xtina-Nick-Gata confusion: Saturday Xtina emailed James and asked how I was. James replied that I was talking to Gata. In the time between when he sent the message and when she read it, Gata went missing. Sometime after that Nick asked Xtina about Gata. She told him Gata was found. I read on Nick's blog that Gata was found an hour or two before she was.
I apologize for not putting links in all the time. I think everybody I mention is listed in my links. I am lazy or tired or both. You decide. I think tired, so I will go to sleep. G'night.
Domestic compromises. With roses from the garden on the window sill next to the bed there will inevitably be rose petals on the floor. With the bed so close to the window the vacuum won't fit in that space. I will not give up the roses.
I am so tired lately, since I got off the boat. I don't quite know why.
Two notes in the saga of Gata:
I hung a sign on the front hedge saying that she was missing and asking anyone to call if they knew where she was. I was on the bed when I heard a group of little girls read the sign out loud to eachother. They started to call out for Gata as they continued their walk. An hour or so later, they called. They had seen what they thought was Gata on the road that goes behind our house. When I went out to the backyard she was there, answering my calls with nervous meows. I don't know where she went when she was out, but god bless little girls.
The Xtina-Nick-Gata confusion: Saturday Xtina emailed James and asked how I was. James replied that I was talking to Gata. In the time between when he sent the message and when she read it, Gata went missing. Sometime after that Nick asked Xtina about Gata. She told him Gata was found. I read on Nick's blog that Gata was found an hour or two before she was.
I apologize for not putting links in all the time. I think everybody I mention is listed in my links. I am lazy or tired or both. You decide. I think tired, so I will go to sleep. G'night.
Monday, July 28
So I haven't had a crush list for a couple weeks, but I feel lots of love right now for you poet types...
10 is Ed Barrett, Rub Out read on board
9 is c.annarummo for not wearing shorts.
8 is Jim Behrle, for putting up with my crap...
7 is for Aaron, who's happy I'm back.
6 is Joel Sloman so lovely to see
5 is Chris Rizzo. Who else could it be?
4 is Mike County for helpful advice,
3 is for Gerrit who's always so wise.
2 is Xtina who cared 'bout my cat.
1 is for Nick, who told me she's back!
10 is Ed Barrett, Rub Out read on board
9 is c.annarummo for not wearing shorts.
8 is Jim Behrle, for putting up with my crap...
7 is for Aaron, who's happy I'm back.
6 is Joel Sloman so lovely to see
5 is Chris Rizzo. Who else could it be?
4 is Mike County for helpful advice,
3 is for Gerrit who's always so wise.
2 is Xtina who cared 'bout my cat.
1 is for Nick, who told me she's back!
Here's a little description of my trip...
Sunday we sailed along the coast of Gloucester, past Twin Lights, then set a course for Rockland. Abandoned the plan to sail straight to Nova Scotia- the winds just weren’t right. Mark (my uncle) and Bob (his friend) had cigars in the cockpit while I mixed the first of many rounds of cocktails. We had to switch to the motor after a while, and kept going through the night. When the sun went down there was no land in sight. I watched the moon rise bright orange as the sky darkened. I had first watch, nervous about tugboats and barges, but traffic was light until Bob relieved me. Slept well in the aft cabin, all to myself, cozy in my sleeping bag, rocking with the boat.
Saw my first seal of the trip on Monday as we sailed past Monhegan Island. How happy to see the islands, seals and terns and ferries bringing tourists in Maine sweatshirts to and fro. Got to Rockland, to Bobby’s mooring, and into town. Went to the boat store, got some things. Mark saw an ad on the board for a 45-pound anchor. Called the guy, yeah, he could get it to the public dock in half an hour. Bob and I drank at the Black Olive while Mark waited for the anchor and brought it to the boat. Back to the boat for dinner and more cocktails.
Sailed between Vinalhaven and North Haven to the Coots, a couple islands by Deer Isle, near Camp, Devil and Bold Islands. Rowed the skiff around and landed on a private island owned by someone from Gloucester. Barnacles everywhere, jeans soaked at the bottom. Fog and rain rolled in. I cooked a big meal that night, we lit the fire and drank scotch. Woke Wednesday morning to engine trouble, diesels don’t like air, and broken gasket, a critical bolt dropped in the bilge. Mark took the skiff to Billings for parts, Bob and I hung out on the boat. The weather was so bad we stayed put even after the engine got going. Warm and cozy on the boat, drunk and full. Slept well.
Thursday we sailed to Northeast Harbor on Mt. Desert Island, to pick up the new depth sounder that was shipped overnight to my uncle David in Franklin. We hiked up to Jordan Pond, went to the hardware store and the market. Stopped in to get a copy of Mark’s marriage license at the City Clerk’s office. Turns out his wife has been wrong about the date for 11 years. The clerk’s brother had performed the ceremony, the guy with one leg from the hardware store was the witness.
By Friday I was lonely. The guys just talk about girls and boats, and I was very quiet, nothing to add. We sailed past Mistake Harbor to the Cow’s Yard. We were led to our site by a seal, and a bald eagle flew by as we were dropping anchor. Cold on the way up, nice fire warmed us and the ever-present cocktails kept our bellies warm. The boat rocked all night and I discovered what my uncle calls ‘drinking ours’ (he got that from a trash novel). They are when you drink too much, fall asleep quickly, sleep hard for a couple of hours, wake up and spend most of the night unable to fall back asleep. Get in another hour or two before morning.
Saturday I woke up in a fog. The boat was also in a fog. Waiting for the tide to come ina bit and the fog to thin I watched a jellyfish swim the length of the boat. The fog nearly broke and we motored to the Roque Island Archipelago. Our first anchorage was by the beach, but the boat rocked so much we moved to a little spot between Great Spruce and Little Spruce Islands. Read a trash novel on deck and got too much sun. Rowed to shore to see a big brown back leaning over on the beach. At first I thought it was a bear, not even ten feet away. After I turned the skiff quickly I saw it was only a ram, there with a ewe, munching away. Rowed across the cove to find where a great sound was coming from- amazed to find it was the wind rushing through a tree, the only tall tree that wasn’t a pine. Saw some wild irises growing on a cliff. Went for a swim off the boat.
I stayed in bed Sunday morning, pretending to be asleep while the boys figured out that the boat’s electrical system had been wired incorrectly The starter battery was completely drained. Motoring through rain and fog. Fresh water pump broke, all the water leaked into the bilge. Get to Bar Harbor and yuck! all the people. Made the usual stops (hardware, automotive or boat store, grocery store, liquor store, cigar store, maybe a cup of coffee). Drank too much. Again.
Monday we got to Valley Cove, you can see the hill from there where my uncle was married. Ospreys flying around, the cliff dwarfing everything around us. Quiet again. To Blue Hill, where the water is just 15 feet deep and the seals fished around us all night. Nice little town, warm water for swimming. In the morning the autopilot won’t start. Fog thick as pea soup, motor to Belfast. The rain came down in sheets and cleared away some of the fog. Washed my clothes, went to the library, saw a bit of town. The next day the weather was no better, so we stayed put. Went into town again. Lovely place, seeming to be for the people there, not for tourists so much. Decent showers. Melancholy second night, Mark missing his sister Judy (she died 7 years ago and was his best friend), had me sing the song I sang at her funeral (Jamaica Farewell). The three of us finished a bottle of vodka and a bottle of scotch. We all ended up skinny dipping in the harbor, and me not able to get back into the boat.
Friday the weather broke. We made our way back to Rockland and got the boat ready to leave there. The sky opened and dropped buckets of rain, lovely with bright bolts of lightening. Full double rainbows crossed the harbor. Had our first meal out, got to bed early, and woke up at 4:30 on Saturday morning to drive a rented car back to Gloucester.
Sunday we sailed along the coast of Gloucester, past Twin Lights, then set a course for Rockland. Abandoned the plan to sail straight to Nova Scotia- the winds just weren’t right. Mark (my uncle) and Bob (his friend) had cigars in the cockpit while I mixed the first of many rounds of cocktails. We had to switch to the motor after a while, and kept going through the night. When the sun went down there was no land in sight. I watched the moon rise bright orange as the sky darkened. I had first watch, nervous about tugboats and barges, but traffic was light until Bob relieved me. Slept well in the aft cabin, all to myself, cozy in my sleeping bag, rocking with the boat.
Saw my first seal of the trip on Monday as we sailed past Monhegan Island. How happy to see the islands, seals and terns and ferries bringing tourists in Maine sweatshirts to and fro. Got to Rockland, to Bobby’s mooring, and into town. Went to the boat store, got some things. Mark saw an ad on the board for a 45-pound anchor. Called the guy, yeah, he could get it to the public dock in half an hour. Bob and I drank at the Black Olive while Mark waited for the anchor and brought it to the boat. Back to the boat for dinner and more cocktails.
Sailed between Vinalhaven and North Haven to the Coots, a couple islands by Deer Isle, near Camp, Devil and Bold Islands. Rowed the skiff around and landed on a private island owned by someone from Gloucester. Barnacles everywhere, jeans soaked at the bottom. Fog and rain rolled in. I cooked a big meal that night, we lit the fire and drank scotch. Woke Wednesday morning to engine trouble, diesels don’t like air, and broken gasket, a critical bolt dropped in the bilge. Mark took the skiff to Billings for parts, Bob and I hung out on the boat. The weather was so bad we stayed put even after the engine got going. Warm and cozy on the boat, drunk and full. Slept well.
Thursday we sailed to Northeast Harbor on Mt. Desert Island, to pick up the new depth sounder that was shipped overnight to my uncle David in Franklin. We hiked up to Jordan Pond, went to the hardware store and the market. Stopped in to get a copy of Mark’s marriage license at the City Clerk’s office. Turns out his wife has been wrong about the date for 11 years. The clerk’s brother had performed the ceremony, the guy with one leg from the hardware store was the witness.
By Friday I was lonely. The guys just talk about girls and boats, and I was very quiet, nothing to add. We sailed past Mistake Harbor to the Cow’s Yard. We were led to our site by a seal, and a bald eagle flew by as we were dropping anchor. Cold on the way up, nice fire warmed us and the ever-present cocktails kept our bellies warm. The boat rocked all night and I discovered what my uncle calls ‘drinking ours’ (he got that from a trash novel). They are when you drink too much, fall asleep quickly, sleep hard for a couple of hours, wake up and spend most of the night unable to fall back asleep. Get in another hour or two before morning.
Saturday I woke up in a fog. The boat was also in a fog. Waiting for the tide to come ina bit and the fog to thin I watched a jellyfish swim the length of the boat. The fog nearly broke and we motored to the Roque Island Archipelago. Our first anchorage was by the beach, but the boat rocked so much we moved to a little spot between Great Spruce and Little Spruce Islands. Read a trash novel on deck and got too much sun. Rowed to shore to see a big brown back leaning over on the beach. At first I thought it was a bear, not even ten feet away. After I turned the skiff quickly I saw it was only a ram, there with a ewe, munching away. Rowed across the cove to find where a great sound was coming from- amazed to find it was the wind rushing through a tree, the only tall tree that wasn’t a pine. Saw some wild irises growing on a cliff. Went for a swim off the boat.
I stayed in bed Sunday morning, pretending to be asleep while the boys figured out that the boat’s electrical system had been wired incorrectly The starter battery was completely drained. Motoring through rain and fog. Fresh water pump broke, all the water leaked into the bilge. Get to Bar Harbor and yuck! all the people. Made the usual stops (hardware, automotive or boat store, grocery store, liquor store, cigar store, maybe a cup of coffee). Drank too much. Again.
Monday we got to Valley Cove, you can see the hill from there where my uncle was married. Ospreys flying around, the cliff dwarfing everything around us. Quiet again. To Blue Hill, where the water is just 15 feet deep and the seals fished around us all night. Nice little town, warm water for swimming. In the morning the autopilot won’t start. Fog thick as pea soup, motor to Belfast. The rain came down in sheets and cleared away some of the fog. Washed my clothes, went to the library, saw a bit of town. The next day the weather was no better, so we stayed put. Went into town again. Lovely place, seeming to be for the people there, not for tourists so much. Decent showers. Melancholy second night, Mark missing his sister Judy (she died 7 years ago and was his best friend), had me sing the song I sang at her funeral (Jamaica Farewell). The three of us finished a bottle of vodka and a bottle of scotch. We all ended up skinny dipping in the harbor, and me not able to get back into the boat.
Friday the weather broke. We made our way back to Rockland and got the boat ready to leave there. The sky opened and dropped buckets of rain, lovely with bright bolts of lightening. Full double rainbows crossed the harbor. Had our first meal out, got to bed early, and woke up at 4:30 on Saturday morning to drive a rented car back to Gloucester.
Sunday, July 27
Saturday, July 26
I go away for a couple weeks, and bam. Kicked to the wiffleball curb. May I remind Mr. Behrle that the NY-Boston game was my dream? Go ahead, Jim, steal my dreams. This will be the one and only time, maybe like Giambi's stolen base today. I have no place in your starting line up. Fuck that. I used to play, you know. I did it like this. I did it like that. If you make it to first base, Jim, I'm sure it will be from a dropped strike three.
Sunday, July 13
Saturday, July 12
gata has her head on the keyboard and has already erased one message i was writing. i think she knows i am going, 'cuz she is everywhere i am the past couple days.
worked for 3 hours on the boat today, helpful to see what it looks like. there are 2 toilets and lots of places to sleep. my aunt sue says the little stove in there dries things out pretty well if they get wet. we may hug the shore if the is no wind out there, no fun to motor says mark. met the xavier fellow, he seems nice. 42 feet is a lot of boat. should be good.
a
worked for 3 hours on the boat today, helpful to see what it looks like. there are 2 toilets and lots of places to sleep. my aunt sue says the little stove in there dries things out pretty well if they get wet. we may hug the shore if the is no wind out there, no fun to motor says mark. met the xavier fellow, he seems nice. 42 feet is a lot of boat. should be good.
a
Friday, July 11
Here's the deal with Nova Scotia.
Yesterday I was talking to my grandfather. My uncle Mark was around. He asked me if I wanted to sail to Nova Scotia with him. We leave Sunday, will spend 4 or 5 days without seeing land, then continue north once we hit N.S. His goal is to sail far enough north to be able to pick ice cubes out of the water for his cocktails. I can jump ship at any port and find my own way home if I want. I have no idea how long I will be gone, or even quite where I am going. I have never been overnight ona boat, nevermind way out. I'm kind of afraid but very excited. We'll see how it goes.
Yesterday I was talking to my grandfather. My uncle Mark was around. He asked me if I wanted to sail to Nova Scotia with him. We leave Sunday, will spend 4 or 5 days without seeing land, then continue north once we hit N.S. His goal is to sail far enough north to be able to pick ice cubes out of the water for his cocktails. I can jump ship at any port and find my own way home if I want. I have no idea how long I will be gone, or even quite where I am going. I have never been overnight ona boat, nevermind way out. I'm kind of afraid but very excited. We'll see how it goes.
So the duck camp...
Yesterday afternoon's rain left the water empty of boaters and the air free from bugs. The sky was cloudy with rays of the light, the water smooth as glass. We got to Essex quickly and decided to swing by Conomo Point, then to Farnham's for fried clams, onion rings and Moxie, which we ate floating inthe marsh just yards away from 133. Took a back waterway (behind Hog Island) tot he camp, which was left open by the adults (Babs's uncle and cousin) who had been there the night before. That wouldn't have been bad, but they left it unlocked and left the propane on.
We got settled in just in time to sit on the back deck (a few planks covered in mussels dropped by the gulls) to watch the sunset. Went inside after and started cooking our real dinner (the Farnham's trip was a whim; we shared a small box). Steamers steamed in beer, celery and onion, served with garlic parsley butter (parsley from the garden), corn on the cob, and peas from the garden. A couple beers each and the end of the Red Sox game on the little radio. Went to bed, didn't want to swim (even though the tide was right) for fear that it would wake up up.
We slepy longer than usual for being out there and rose long after the sun. Breakfast of oatmeal and powdered donettes, and instant coffee. Sunbathing, then swimming, then drying off in the sun. We closed up camp and headed home.
The mouth of the bay was filled with rolling breakers, some whitecaps. We should have known since we heard the bell buoy from camp. Babs did a wonderful job guiding the whaler through the waves. We didn't get swamped, which I was amazed at riding up and down those waves. Went wide around the san bar, the waves were breaking there. Babs dropped me off at my dock. Up through the garden and home again!
Yesterday afternoon's rain left the water empty of boaters and the air free from bugs. The sky was cloudy with rays of the light, the water smooth as glass. We got to Essex quickly and decided to swing by Conomo Point, then to Farnham's for fried clams, onion rings and Moxie, which we ate floating inthe marsh just yards away from 133. Took a back waterway (behind Hog Island) tot he camp, which was left open by the adults (Babs's uncle and cousin) who had been there the night before. That wouldn't have been bad, but they left it unlocked and left the propane on.
We got settled in just in time to sit on the back deck (a few planks covered in mussels dropped by the gulls) to watch the sunset. Went inside after and started cooking our real dinner (the Farnham's trip was a whim; we shared a small box). Steamers steamed in beer, celery and onion, served with garlic parsley butter (parsley from the garden), corn on the cob, and peas from the garden. A couple beers each and the end of the Red Sox game on the little radio. Went to bed, didn't want to swim (even though the tide was right) for fear that it would wake up up.
We slepy longer than usual for being out there and rose long after the sun. Breakfast of oatmeal and powdered donettes, and instant coffee. Sunbathing, then swimming, then drying off in the sun. We closed up camp and headed home.
The mouth of the bay was filled with rolling breakers, some whitecaps. We should have known since we heard the bell buoy from camp. Babs did a wonderful job guiding the whaler through the waves. We didn't get swamped, which I was amazed at riding up and down those waves. Went wide around the san bar, the waves were breaking there. Babs dropped me off at my dock. Up through the garden and home again!
Thursday, July 10
I just found out I am sailing to Nova Scotia next week. Can anybody suggest some books I should bring to read? Email me. Thanks! I'll get to the duck camp story maybe after I cook dinner...
Wednesday, July 9
I'm with Alex again. Poor kid, his guinea pig is in the smal animal hospital. Doesn't look good.
Tonight Babs and I are going out to the duck camp near Hog Island (if anybody saw the somewhat-recent versionof the crucible, it was filmed there). No electiricty, no running water, no way to leave after the tide goes out. It is lovely. The rain that has just started will keep it cool out there. We are going to bring out corn, peas from the garden, steamers and beer for dinner. There is a little stove out there. Bunk beds and sleeping bags, big table and chairs, up on stilts with the water running underneath.
One year we ran out of gas on the way home and had to push the boat (walking along the marshes, then swimming behind it) until we got some help. Another year I kept handinh Babs powdered donettes as we were on the way home and before she knew it she had eaten most of the box (thinking I was eating them as well). I was a bad friend then. Still, we are getting powdered donettes for breakfast.
I have a funny Alex story. Yesterday we stopped at Fun Among Us to get some one-handed activities. Alex picked out this pooping pig keychain. We had been at the toy store for some time looking around when Alex had to go to the bathroom. He walked up to the girl at the register and said "I have to", then pointed at the pig. She said, "You have to buy that?" Alex said "No, I have to" and he squeezed the pig.
Gotta love that kid.
Xtina, why don't you come over Saturday night? We can bring you back in on Sunday.
Tonight Babs and I are going out to the duck camp near Hog Island (if anybody saw the somewhat-recent versionof the crucible, it was filmed there). No electiricty, no running water, no way to leave after the tide goes out. It is lovely. The rain that has just started will keep it cool out there. We are going to bring out corn, peas from the garden, steamers and beer for dinner. There is a little stove out there. Bunk beds and sleeping bags, big table and chairs, up on stilts with the water running underneath.
One year we ran out of gas on the way home and had to push the boat (walking along the marshes, then swimming behind it) until we got some help. Another year I kept handinh Babs powdered donettes as we were on the way home and before she knew it she had eaten most of the box (thinking I was eating them as well). I was a bad friend then. Still, we are getting powdered donettes for breakfast.
I have a funny Alex story. Yesterday we stopped at Fun Among Us to get some one-handed activities. Alex picked out this pooping pig keychain. We had been at the toy store for some time looking around when Alex had to go to the bathroom. He walked up to the girl at the register and said "I have to", then pointed at the pig. She said, "You have to buy that?" Alex said "No, I have to" and he squeezed the pig.
Gotta love that kid.
Xtina, why don't you come over Saturday night? We can bring you back in on Sunday.
Tuesday, July 8
According to thesex test, I am 53% sexy. I will have sex with one more person. I will love that person. Should I start taking applications? Don't tell my husband.
I've dressed myself in butterflies today. I hope it helps me get through the time I will spend with Alex getting a cast.
Summer works this way: when I have time to water my garden there is plenty of rain. When I don't there is no rain and so much sun and heat the world wants to curl up in a ball. If my garden were closer to the house it would be easier but with no hose long enough (and having to cross the street) I carry the water down in watering cans. My poor peas are nearly falling over.
Summer works this way: when I have time to water my garden there is plenty of rain. When I don't there is no rain and so much sun and heat the world wants to curl up in a ball. If my garden were closer to the house it would be easier but with no hose long enough (and having to cross the street) I carry the water down in watering cans. My poor peas are nearly falling over.
Monday, July 7
What a day. I spent hours at Beverly Hospital with 12-year-old Alex, who fell off his skateboard and broke his wrist. Hours. How many times did I say I wasn't his mother? I can't be blamed for the lack of wrist guards. How many times did I amswer as his mother? I can't be blamed for being tired of explaining that I wasn't.
So I was left with nothing to do but consider my crush list. If anyone can write me a poem that makes me forget the two hours of Judge Judy I watched in the waiting room at radiology you will definitely earna spot for next week. If you make me forget Judge Judy and the news I watched in the ER waiting room and the Will and Grace I saw in the room waiting for the pediatrician (?) I will love you forever.
Here we go. All apologies, and then some.
10.Nick Piombino
9. Aaron Tieger
8. Timitha Doane
7. Xtina
6. Mike County
5. Gerrit Lansing
4. Mark Lamoureux
3. Mick Carr
2. Joel Sloman
1. Ken Irby
So I was left with nothing to do but consider my crush list. If anyone can write me a poem that makes me forget the two hours of Judge Judy I watched in the waiting room at radiology you will definitely earna spot for next week. If you make me forget Judge Judy and the news I watched in the ER waiting room and the Will and Grace I saw in the room waiting for the pediatrician (?) I will love you forever.
Here we go. All apologies, and then some.
10.Nick Piombino
9. Aaron Tieger
8. Timitha Doane
7. Xtina
6. Mike County
5. Gerrit Lansing
4. Mark Lamoureux
3. Mick Carr
2. Joel Sloman
1. Ken Irby
Sunday, July 6
The water is cold, turbulent eddy viscosity. Swam anyway. Picked peas and lettuce for dinner, and bunches of roses for about the house.
Dinner was as it should be- lovely from the garden and food I already had, without much thought, fast and yummy. The separate parts didn’t quite go together but nobody seems to mind. Peas with garlic and ginger. Pasta with lots of tomatoes, rosemary, a little garlic and olive oil, with goat cheese on top. Fresh lettuce from the garden with some red onion, feta, and balsamic vinaigrette.
We’ll swim again before bed. Summer dress and rose behind the ear, happy happy.
Dinner was as it should be- lovely from the garden and food I already had, without much thought, fast and yummy. The separate parts didn’t quite go together but nobody seems to mind. Peas with garlic and ginger. Pasta with lots of tomatoes, rosemary, a little garlic and olive oil, with goat cheese on top. Fresh lettuce from the garden with some red onion, feta, and balsamic vinaigrette.
We’ll swim again before bed. Summer dress and rose behind the ear, happy happy.
I just woke from a very strange dream.
We were at some sort of baseball training place. Xtina was swimming holding 5 quarts of cream out in front of her, pressed together in a row. The 3 heavy cream cartons made a picture with the sides together, as did the 2 light creams. Aaron was standing outside the pool trying to figure out why this exercise was important. It worked the legs because she was swimming without using her arms and the arms got a workout trying to keep the cartons of cream all lined up. The wall of cream also added resistance, I guess. I don’t think Aaron had figured it out by the time I woke up.
Jim was showing us (me and another girls- I didn’t know her) all the motions in pitching. He had a few in there that were completely useless. He was upset because Pedro had been reclassified as a ‘c pitcher’. This didn’t mean he had to play in the minors or anything, just that the label would come after his name in anything to do with Major League Baseball. Jim then started to compare pitchers to sodas and rating them.
I didn’t think there were any Red Sox there until Derek Lowe came up and told me I was sitting on his towel. He then showed me how to pitch. He left out (and joked about) Jim’s extra steps, but his explanation was a little wacky as well.
I woke up soon after that. There were more of the typical Charlie’s crowd there, but I don’t remember exactly what they were doing.
I don’t know what this means, but all I can come up with is that the Boston Poets should challenge the New York Poets to a game of baseball, or at least whiffle ball. I’m guessing Boston wins. I’m guessing a score of 10-2 or 3.
We were at some sort of baseball training place. Xtina was swimming holding 5 quarts of cream out in front of her, pressed together in a row. The 3 heavy cream cartons made a picture with the sides together, as did the 2 light creams. Aaron was standing outside the pool trying to figure out why this exercise was important. It worked the legs because she was swimming without using her arms and the arms got a workout trying to keep the cartons of cream all lined up. The wall of cream also added resistance, I guess. I don’t think Aaron had figured it out by the time I woke up.
Jim was showing us (me and another girls- I didn’t know her) all the motions in pitching. He had a few in there that were completely useless. He was upset because Pedro had been reclassified as a ‘c pitcher’. This didn’t mean he had to play in the minors or anything, just that the label would come after his name in anything to do with Major League Baseball. Jim then started to compare pitchers to sodas and rating them.
I didn’t think there were any Red Sox there until Derek Lowe came up and told me I was sitting on his towel. He then showed me how to pitch. He left out (and joked about) Jim’s extra steps, but his explanation was a little wacky as well.
I woke up soon after that. There were more of the typical Charlie’s crowd there, but I don’t remember exactly what they were doing.
I don’t know what this means, but all I can come up with is that the Boston Poets should challenge the New York Poets to a game of baseball, or at least whiffle ball. I’m guessing Boston wins. I’m guessing a score of 10-2 or 3.
Saturday, July 5
Swimming in Lobster Cove for quite some time, skin salty and hair dripping... we went for a little sail in the Babson's laser, tot he end of the cove where the water is warm and lovely and Babs's brothers were sitting on rocks looking at birds. Lovely the way water warms on the top and when your feet hang down into the current your toes get so cold. Walk home naked under summer dress, pick peas out of the garden in front of overdressed rich folk walking from their oversized cars to the yacht club for an overpriced dinner. I like to flaunt my bare feet in front of them.
Nothing could be sweeter than Nixon's home run just now... I can't believe how close to Millar's head that pitch that hit him was... Roger Clemens continues to be, in my book, an ass.
Spent the monrning in Manchester (by-the-fuckin-sea) having coffee, which I sorely needed. Beach fashion is so slovenly. Women in khaki shorts with tank tops and sun visors. Yuck. Where did the summer dress go? I wish it would come back.
Spent the monrning in Manchester (by-the-fuckin-sea) having coffee, which I sorely needed. Beach fashion is so slovenly. Women in khaki shorts with tank tops and sun visors. Yuck. Where did the summer dress go? I wish it would come back.
It is nearly morning. At this point I don't see much use in trying to get to sleep. If I wait another hour I can bring the recycling down without waking my grandfather.
The sky was lovely tonight. Sitting on the diving board I saw several shooting stars. No need for wishing, they never come true, but the sight of them...
The sky was lovely tonight. Sitting on the diving board I saw several shooting stars. No need for wishing, they never come true, but the sight of them...
Friday, July 4
I may be the only one home tonight and I couldn't be happier about it. We have a more PBR, a pool, a river and a pool table. Fireworks are going off up and down the river, as far as the eye can see. Little friendly ones. I picked two pounds of peas from the garden, sauteed half of themin garlic and ginger and some sesame oil for dinner. Zac just came over, Babs will follow. I'm happy not to have left home today.
Good morning, good day. I am in voice conservation mode. If poets can't flirt then there is no hope for America. That is my Independence Day Proclamation.
The kitchen at my house is nearly clean from all of the cooking yesterday. I don't know how Gerrit's is. This morning a big Bud truck woke me up. My sister came over with the boys to walk in the parade (once around the block- everybody on foot or bike, wearing red, white and blue, Molly up front dressed as the Statue of Liberty, an impromptu band of Squammies close behind). I stayed up on the porch and played God Bless America on the violin as the parade passed- not so well, as it was the first time I had played it, and I was just guessing really. I think I will take a nap in the sun today. Sox game this afternoon.... yum.
Thank you everybody for coming last night. I love you all.
The kitchen at my house is nearly clean from all of the cooking yesterday. I don't know how Gerrit's is. This morning a big Bud truck woke me up. My sister came over with the boys to walk in the parade (once around the block- everybody on foot or bike, wearing red, white and blue, Molly up front dressed as the Statue of Liberty, an impromptu band of Squammies close behind). I stayed up on the porch and played God Bless America on the violin as the parade passed- not so well, as it was the first time I had played it, and I was just guessing really. I think I will take a nap in the sun today. Sox game this afternoon.... yum.
Thank you everybody for coming last night. I love you all.
Thursday, July 3
Wednesday, July 2
I didn't sleep so well last night, if at all. Worry worry worry bug. Near 1 a boat limped into the cove, no lights but covered in flairs. The light shone right into my window and what with the howling at the beach across the water (coyotes, i think) and the moon i couldn't keep my eyes closed. I'm worried about my father. I wish I called him Da.
My violin lesson went well, I'm working on the swallowtail jig mostly. And one finger scales. So much to learn. Then lunch with Patrick. We met at the clam box, where I played for him, then went to the Agawam for lunch. I wasn't ready to face the day after that, so we went to Plum Island for ice cream. Mine melted all over me, but I did pretty well. I am notoriously slow at eating ice cream. I have some in my hair now, and a bit on my skirt.
Supermarket, down to business, but I have a butterfly on my shoulder. Back home and Zac is here, yeah, with an agave treat for this evening. My friends, they go away, but they come back.
My violin lesson went well, I'm working on the swallowtail jig mostly. And one finger scales. So much to learn. Then lunch with Patrick. We met at the clam box, where I played for him, then went to the Agawam for lunch. I wasn't ready to face the day after that, so we went to Plum Island for ice cream. Mine melted all over me, but I did pretty well. I am notoriously slow at eating ice cream. I have some in my hair now, and a bit on my skirt.
Supermarket, down to business, but I have a butterfly on my shoulder. Back home and Zac is here, yeah, with an agave treat for this evening. My friends, they go away, but they come back.
Tuesday, July 1
I had so much to write moments ago. I had a pickle and peanut butter sandwich for dinner. How did I get there? So much. So much.
When the men from Perry's were cutting down the locust, my grandfather asked me what Marnie would think. His answer made me realize he didn't really listen to a word she said. He guessed what she might have said to him, not what she had thought at all. I am guessing also that she didn't really tell him what she thought anyway.
She used to make sandwiches for us which we would eat on the low bench in front of the fireplace. Always they were on thin white toasting bread. My two favorites were cream cheese and jelly and cream cheese and green olives. At the Gibsons we would mke sandwiches of anything we could find, trying to gross eachother out. Peanut butter and pickles made it through. Tonight's was only the second I have had since I was maybe 8 or 9.
I wrote a recommendation today for Celia Gibson to work on Star Island. I was her manager for maybe 6 months, when I had already quit that job and had started working for her father. Mac Bell wouldn't let me off the hook no matter how much I tried to quit.
I was in quite a mood today but didn't put most of you through it. I took a nice long bath and tried to make myself lovely. I always feel better when I am lovely. My dad still hasn't been admitted to the hospital, his insurance isn't interested in paying for the t-cell treatment. He's just home waiting for them to say yes. It makes me very angry.
I should note that I really like Mick Carr.
Does anybody know yet when exactly the party is?
When the men from Perry's were cutting down the locust, my grandfather asked me what Marnie would think. His answer made me realize he didn't really listen to a word she said. He guessed what she might have said to him, not what she had thought at all. I am guessing also that she didn't really tell him what she thought anyway.
She used to make sandwiches for us which we would eat on the low bench in front of the fireplace. Always they were on thin white toasting bread. My two favorites were cream cheese and jelly and cream cheese and green olives. At the Gibsons we would mke sandwiches of anything we could find, trying to gross eachother out. Peanut butter and pickles made it through. Tonight's was only the second I have had since I was maybe 8 or 9.
I wrote a recommendation today for Celia Gibson to work on Star Island. I was her manager for maybe 6 months, when I had already quit that job and had started working for her father. Mac Bell wouldn't let me off the hook no matter how much I tried to quit.
I was in quite a mood today but didn't put most of you through it. I took a nice long bath and tried to make myself lovely. I always feel better when I am lovely. My dad still hasn't been admitted to the hospital, his insurance isn't interested in paying for the t-cell treatment. He's just home waiting for them to say yes. It makes me very angry.
I should note that I really like Mick Carr.
Does anybody know yet when exactly the party is?
I haven't gone outside to see what it looks like sans tree. Walking up the front lawn it was all blue sky looking up. I don't like it. I'm sorry about this week's crush list. There are obvious omissions. I just don't know what do do. When do people go from poetic crushes to poetic loves of my life? Tricky.
Speaking of that, I wish Jim Dunn was my brother. I don't know if I would have survived his influence as a kid, but I would be so much more rock and roll now if I had. I love his kids, man, little bombs of energy. Go speed racer is all I'm sayin'.
Speaking of that, I wish Jim Dunn was my brother. I don't know if I would have survived his influence as a kid, but I would be so much more rock and roll now if I had. I love his kids, man, little bombs of energy. Go speed racer is all I'm sayin'.
Morning has come and they're taking down the locust in the backyard. Had dinner at my Dad's last night to celebrate my brother's birthday. I got him three big slim jims. There's a story behind that, but he deserved more. Cut my finger on a cat food can.
I would go out to watch them take the tree down if I felt like getting dressed. As it is I can bend my neck (bend it like beckham) and see out the window (i'd rather bend it like moravcik). Maybe with coffee I could go out. The recycling bin is too full for zac to come home. And soon Babs! I can't wait.
The crush list was nearly a mess this week. San Pietro was nearly number one, with dire consequences. James had to convince me he wasn't a poet. It's crazy, this tree coming down.
I love that inplaceofchairs has posts by Christopher, not Chris. That's nice.
I would go out to watch them take the tree down if I felt like getting dressed. As it is I can bend my neck (bend it like beckham) and see out the window (i'd rather bend it like moravcik). Maybe with coffee I could go out. The recycling bin is too full for zac to come home. And soon Babs! I can't wait.
The crush list was nearly a mess this week. San Pietro was nearly number one, with dire consequences. James had to convince me he wasn't a poet. It's crazy, this tree coming down.
I love that inplaceofchairs has posts by Christopher, not Chris. That's nice.
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