Beach time, liquid days...
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On Tuesday, I called my machine. Something was lost in the translation, though, and as the signal faded to oceanic static I was unable to retrieve my message.
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She walked languidly along the shoreline, accompanied by an attentive entourage of dried seaweed, rolling along like tumbleweeds in her wake.
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Bits of sand dropped with soft pats upon these paper pages.
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Reading Gibson on the beach, upon a ground of stylized green turtles, set in faceted blue...
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I found a piece of sea glass today. Gray and smoky smooth, worn into gentle curves by the workings of wind, sand, and water. It is warm, almost hot, to the touch.
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Got a Corona buzz, accentuated by the heat. I can taste the ocean salt on my lips, feel the wind upon my face. Warm sand shifts beneath my bare feet. My movements are slow and sun-lazy. Smoothed by the whispering surf and bone-deep relaxation. (And my handwriting sucks at this point, though the ink flows oh so readily.)
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I imagine sleeping in air. Buoyed up by warm currents, caressed by heat and day-lit sand. The tidal shift of fabrics. The breathing of time.
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I imagine sleeping in brine. Weightless, floating. Curved into an amniotic posture. Lifted and swayed by vast, intimate, currents.
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When I cross over heated sand, when I move through the sea foam breeze and incandescent sunlight, I think I shall have a vegetarian corn dog.
Yowza.
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Women are a curve. Men are a line. Sometimes...
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This sat on the beach most of the day, stirred by wind, lit by sun. It sat, amid the salt spray, the sound of wave and water, of people. I wrote on this while the sun heated my shoulders and back and while my eyes grew heavy from the blue-sky warmth.
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Time to eat.
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12:10 AM, Time for bed...
--- JWR, July 9th through
July 23rd, 2000
Kitty Hawk 2000
I scribbled the accompanying fragments in a Mead Composition notebook (the one in the picture, actually) as I sat on the beach in Kitty Hawk, North Carolina. I was there from July 9th through July 23rd, 2000.
I had no idea what "OBX" meant when I first saw it on bumper stickers and license plates, down at the beach. Then I looked at one closer and saw that it stood for, "Outer Bankx" [sic]. So that is that.
If you can hear sound on the "OBX" entry then you have the free Beatnik audio plugin (and I haven't screwed up the coding). I don't plan on adding sound to everything but wanted to do something different for this entry. Do you like it?
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