Monthly Archives: November 2015

From Skippy Dies

You know, you spend your childhood watching TV, assuming that at some point in the future everything you see there will one day happen to you … gradually the awful truth dawns on you: that Santa Claus was just the tip of the iceberg — that your future will not be the rollercoaster ride you’d imagine, that the world occupied by your parents, the world of washing the dishes, going to the dentist, weekend trips to the DIY superstore to buy floor-tiles, is actually largely what people mean when they speak of ‘life’. Now, with every day that passes, another door seems to close, the one marked PROFESSIONAL STUNTMAN or FIGHT EVIL ROBOT, until as weeks go by and the doors – GET BITTEN BY SNAKE, SAVE WORLD FROM ASTEROID, DISMANTLE BOMB WITH SECONDS TO SPARE — keep closing, you begin to hear the sound a a good thing, and start closing some yourself, even ones that didn’t necessarily need to be closed . . .

Hit me right in the feels. Replace TV with books and PROFESSIONAL STUNTMAN with MAGICAL HERO and that’s my life.

Sailors take warning

There was a red sky this morning, high scudding clouds and low racers flying across them. The trees are mostly bare, except pines and stubborn oaks. I saw a comet on my drive home the other night, one of the Leonids, a flash and streak of blue before it burned out.


I’m run down and weary. Maybe I’m fighting something off, maybe I’m just stressed out. I’m back to only wanting to curl up and watch stupid videos (twitch streams mostly) at night and be asleep before 10. I know part of it is just transition. Part is just November.


November, when it’s not yet the cold clear of winter, but after it’s the pretty fall. Brown and olive and drab everywhere you look. Low skies. Temperatures¬†up and down and I go to bed freezing but wake up hot. And I’m just sad. It came back in a wave. When I’m stressed my defenses are down and it creeps back in. Did it think I forgot?


I had a stress dream: relieving the last week, trying desperately to change things, but the outcome was always the same. The next night I dreamed of a zombie outbreak, of hiding desperately, pretending to be dead, finally giving myself away in a bid to protect someone else.


I just need to get inspiration back. Steady breaths.

just for a while…

It’s been a while since I’ve had an album get under my skin the way Woman by Rhye has. It’s already a few years old and I liked it when it first came out but now it’s just on repeat, all the time, in my head.


Marconi Beach at dusk.

I think about it a lot: if I hadn’t made such an effort to listen to whole albums I would’ve missed out on this. It’s so PRETENTIOUS of me to think that way but it’s true.

That’s on my mind a bit because I finally caved and got internet in the cabin. (Sidenote: I want to give the cabin a name!) and I don’t want to undo the good work I’ve been doing on my attention span. Already, I feel like I’m overdosing on having instant access again: watching five seconds of a stream here, an hour there, netflix streams, changing the radio constantly. And oh, how I love the Amazon Echo. Walk in the door, ask Alexa to play x on Pandora, and instant, comforting noise.



Last night of Mac’s Seafood for the season; they were seasonally appropriate

I’m realizing there are beaucoup benefits to living where I do, as well. It’s stunning how different Wellfleet feels to the mid-Cape, and how different the upper Cape is to both. They’re these little regions in a larger region, all culturally unique. Wellfleet feels like a place people live and work, not just a place people vacation (or retire). The people watching at the grocery is so varied. And then there’s the water — everywhere. Everywhere.


The sky over Wellfleet harbor



I miss things about the old house, but I love that this place is mine. No one else’s. Mine.


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