in search of

... a home.
someplace kinda like this. hidden from most angles, but with a full view of the sky. and beautiful. and mine.

someday.

feeling glum about losing it all, about ending up here, vagrant yet again. homeless yet again. dehumanized yet again. screwed over yet again. so much weighing on me. i refuse to stare in the mirror for much more than a cursory once-over for stray curls or peeling skin.




where the fuck is the karma?


of all the ideas i don't believe in, karma is by far one of the more fun ideas. and even an idea to use as an inspiration of "if only."



yeah.
i want to watch karma happen.
right fucking now.



keep going.
keep hanging.
in there.
chin up.
one foot in front of the other.
one step at a time.
onward.
and every other stupid phrase that drips distantly banal disinterest.

in search of
... home.


where will it be?
what will it look like?
when will i get there?
will it surprise me?
or will i surprise it?



one day.
one day i will be where i want to be.

Traveling

Warren Dunes 2009

There were big piles of sand dumped all over Michigan when the monstrous glaciers receded, shuffling their scraping toes across the bedrock.



Camping at the dunes was a very good thing- hardwood forest surrounds the area and miles upon miles of nature trails weave through it. We followed those trails, found and climbed a giant dune... just to run down it.


The beach was decent- nice drop off at the shore. I like a body of water that forces you into it. Good for water-frisbee.



Note: bad drainage during storms. A lot of the roads grow mud puddles and pot holes. another negative- no alcohol allowed in the summer (but in fall it's just fine). It may cut down on the crazy kids, but it also interferes with some of my favorite beverage choices.

More photos:

































































































There is actually someone standing there, at the top.


Here-







































One of the last things we did was night hiking.
Frowned upon by the posted signs, we took it upon ourselves to cover miles of winding trail at night, ending at the beach just in time to gawk at the stars and watch a thunderstorm start to saunter cross Lake Michigan. We decided not to stay for its arrival, but the light show was decent and the cool sand on our feet was worth every single stub-toed stumble across roots for the hour of blind trailing we foolishly undertook to get there.


No pictures of that- and my camera broke on this trip, so photos after this event are decidedly sketchy.

Until next time.

Cranberry Lake

...was stormy and wet and full of mosquito bites.

But it was a good place to relax with a frisbee and some cards.






Main topics of conversation in the "compound" (we had 3 tents): Cross-cultural communication, more specifically- missing cues. The faux pas of it all and the assumed negativity. The silence. The long walks to the bathroom. Twenty-five cents for 5 minutes of shower, which is cold anyway. The bridge is too narrow. The rain. The rain. The rain.

yes, in my palm

"All good things must come to an end." -Someone who forgot the rest of it.

One thing, my vacation, has just ended. It has gone the way of All Things.

This end, the end of the vacation, was expected. But things don't always end when we expect them to end. For example: life. Life ends all the time suddenly and without warning. I've said it so much and for so long that it's trite to me, but it still needs saying. Especially for those of us who like to forget about the punctuation at the end of the sentence. That's most of us. I'm pretty sure it is, anyway, based on the shock I've witnessed in this bizarre culture of kitty transplants that I wade through. I'm getting wordy. Let me stop.

My cat died while I was on vacation. It happened exactly halfway through my trip. I didn't know he was sick before I left, and he's already dead and buried before I'm back. This is either the best or the worst way it could have happened. Maybe both. I believe in paradox.



How he went and that there wasn't a proper goodbye isn't what's real to me. What's real is him being gone. The absence of life. Of love. Of something good.

Something fills in after the vacuum of End leaves.



I've been imagining him 1/10th his size since he left this world, living in the palm of my hand: fuzzy little killing machine of my daydreams. Every time I see something that deserves an attack or is otherwise interesting, I let him go for it.

Thus far, I've set him loose on stiff-legged beach birds, pigeons in the park, and small children that look too happy.

He does well.

40 years ago

July 20, 1969:

A GIANT LEAP FOR MANKIND
Buzz Aldrin poses on the Moon allowing Neil Armstrong to photograph both of them using the visor's reflection [link].


July 20, 2009:

SPACE STATION TOILET BREAKS DOWN
The main toilet has broken down on the International Space Station (ISS), currently home to a record 13 astronauts, NASA said [link].



Contrast-
1) We reach, and walk on, the moon.
2) The toilet is broken.

It amuses me to think that anyone who has needed a plumber in the past week or so is suddenly feeling a strong burst of empathy towards astronauts they would normally ignore.

Granted, it has been several decades of space travel we've witnessed, and we are getting used to hearing about astronauts. In fact, we are getting used to not hearing about astronauts. Nothing exciting and new there. Nothing amusing or attention-grabbing.

Who, of the regular folk, cares about things going well in space anymore?


So when the next big story on astronauts, space travel, or understanding the universe makes it as a headline in my generic newsfeed- will it make me think of the swimming pool scene in "Caddyshack" ? or will my thoughts once again be challenged to reach into or beyond this galaxy and towards a grander arena of scientific understanding?



I hope for the latter, but I've got $20 on Bill Murray.