Journal Dated January 3, 1992 through January 18, 1993.
The journal is a gift from my friends Karen Krozlowitz and Rich Muller. Gary and I lived w/ Rich and Karen at 95 Pelham Street, Southamptn, while they dated during her Senior year at Southampton College. Their gift of journal also contained a book on sketching.
January 3, 1992
I dedicate this book to Rick and Karen. My friends.
I'm twenty-seven years old. A little more than ten years older than when I started keeping a journal. I think this gift from R & K appeals to me because it seem like the only way I can slow down the clock.
I never thought I'd have chickens. Maybe the three chicks in the coup by the compost pile won't make it to adulthood. Already a fourth (Thelma) was eaten by a cat (I think) at Mom's.
I hope they live.
If some friend looked into the future when I was seventeen and said, "ten years from now you'll be hsaring a house with two friends, a dog, a guinea pig and three chickens, I'd know without a doubt that that friend was crazy. If someone told me that three years ago I'd think the animal part a bit much. For some, unknown to me, reason I'm gravitating towards animals and vice versa. I'm thinking about hwat it would be like to have a wife and children. I've never seriously thought about that before.
Seeing Grandma (Hassler) in the nursing home has a lot to do with family thoughts. So did seeing all the family at Diane and Bob's. Talking to Vicki (Marsland, neighbor/friend from Sale, Australia. She, living in the U.K. visited over the 1991 Christmas holiday) about friends and how friends get married and have kids. "It's a natural evolution," she says. I like that natural evolution. Maybe the seeds of naturalness are ripening inside me. Instinct is guiding me without cognitive knowledge. The desire for church, family, friends, animals are the outward signs of the guiding instinct.
pencil sketch of Rowena, my guinea pig.
January 5, 1992
ReplyDeleteWhat follows are some exercises in the book that accompanied the journal:
THINGS TO ACCOMPLISH IN THE NEXT WEEK:
1. 5 New Year's letters to friends and family.
2. Kathryn and Cameron's table - clean with Murphy's soap, fill scratches with shoe polish, wax and buff.
3. Staple plastic to chicken's house and cover any holes w/ chicken wire.
4. Put shingles on chicken house roof.
5. Clean basement.
6. Send Jeniene's birthday card.*
7. Order recycled cards and paper.
8. Cut down dead Mimosa tree next to vegetable garden.
8A. Write and draw in journal at least three times.
9. Cut up Mimosa tree for firewood.
10. Cut up oak limb from Hurricane Bob.
11. Read "Deerslayer."
12. Clean Rowena's cage.
* immediate attention.
THINGS THAT KEPT ME FROM ACCOMPLISHING ALL THE THINGS I WANTED TO LAST WEEK:
1. Laziness.
2. Reading "Deerslayer."
3. Sleep.
4. Strong sore throat.
5. Not knowing where to start on the list of things to do for the week because I didn't have a list.
6. Knowing that I had many items on my mental list, but thinking I should read first.
STEPS TO TAKE TO SOLVE CONDITIONS OF PREVIOUS LIST:
1. Make list of things to do for week.
2. Don't make list unreasonably long.
3. Reward yourself for doing some of the items by reading.
4. No desert before dinner.
5. Rest, exercise, good food, lots of liquids, fruit w/ vitamin C.
6. Move ahead.
Penciled sketch of a Chambered Nautilus, "Nautilus pompilus" from a trip Gary and I took to the New York Aquarium.
January 5, 1992 entry continued...
ReplyDeleteSurrounding the chambered nautilus are detailed drawings of the floor plan of our house at 111 Raglan Street, Sale, Victoria, Australia where I lived with my parents and brother Terry from 1968 until 1973, when Dad retired and we moved to Merritt Island, FL.
Accompanying the floor plans are the following notes by different areas of the house/property:
My Room - stored all kinds of concoctions under my bed. Glass from bathroom filled with water and dissolving candies. To eat at some other time? To see what they turn in to?
Terry's Room. Door usually closed. Sometimes guitar music. Sometimes I'd visit and watch what Terry was building (models of war planes or battleships) or designing (geometric designs.)
Inside back door: Two white cabinets. Usually a box on top with stuff inside and a tennis ball for Rex on top. (Rex was a German short-haired pointer we got as a puppy when we moved to Australia. Due to the long time animals (dogs?) had to be in quarantine, we left Meena, our first German-short hair from Venezuela, with Grandma and Grandpa Hassler in PA.) I think we kept the catcher's mits (old school) inside the cardboard box. Light coming through cloudy window. 1. Story about playing catch w/ Dad. (I was bad at catch and didn't understand why Dad kept throwing ball harder and harder...eventually it bounced off my glove, hitting me and I thought he was angry. Stopped playing catch.)
Black door. Outside at ground level w/ latch to open. Not locked. Door opened in to underside of house. Sandy brown soil w/ hills. Never ventured very far under. Why? Darkness under house.
Silver shack. Down the (back) steps and a left to the silver shack where Dad kept his tools in boxes and where Dad kept footlockers, barbeque pit. The come-along (hook w/ large link chains and device for cranking...Dad used this to resuce Mom and me in Bogota, Columbia when Dad was jogging up mountain w/ hair pin turns and Mom driving car with me in it. Mom missed a curve and Dad came upon us with front wheels of car off road over mountain, no doubt story was magnified in my child mind. Anyway, Dad got the come along out of the back of the car and was able to use it to get the car back on the road.) Door was always locked and I only could go in when Dad was going in. Very dark inside shed.
Poison Summac Tree - first tree name I remember learning after I got a red rash all over my arms and hands. It took a trip to the doctor, an allergist, to figure out where the rash came from. I'd climb the fence to look over into the McRae's yard right by the Summac tree. I can't remember what it's leaves looked like. Just remember that it had fuzzy branches. Not many branches.
Small area between our house and fence separating our place from the McRae's. The end of the dirt passage-way between our house and the fence that was 2x my size. The McRae's (could also be McRay) lived on the other side of that fence for awhile. Mrs. Nichols an older lady lived there when the McRae's moved to Melbourne.
Lemon tree(s) twig. Lemon trees died not too long after we moved in (?) Rex kept peeing on the little trees and they died.
Tall fence. That Dad or Terry would throw the ball over and Rex would jump onto fence, climb over and find ball in the field/pasture. I think there was a cow in the field for a while. Field was overgrown. Sometimes we'd climb over to look around, but not too often. Could be an area that was off limits. Could see backside of houses on street perpendicular to Raglan that came into (intersected) Raglan a few houses down.
Drawing of back wall of house. Out the back door onto concrete platform. Down steps to walkway to carport. Walkway passed by Mom's cactus garden. At end of dirt was oil drum (55 gallons) I think Dad kept gasoline for boat in this drum. Cactus garden was a good place for me to drive my Matchbox cars around. I think I used my Matchbox cars when there was just dirt between walkway and house.
It's 9:14, Saturday, January 10, 1992.
ReplyDeleteI'm hungry. Sitting here making little x's an bigger X's look like a wooden bowl that Terry gave me two years ago and a grapefruit from Schmidt's cut in half.
Part of a Winter breakfast meditation. If I had to draw everything I ate I'd either starve or have to quit my job and stop sleeping to have time for all the pictures.
January 13, 1992
ReplyDeleteLISTS:
TO ACCOMPLISH THIS WEEK:
1. Design and build stand for aquarium @ hatchery.
2. Finish reading policies for Waterfront. 1/2 hr./day.
3. Clean Rowena's cage.
4. Kathryn and Cameron's table.
5. Four letters.
6. Call about aquaculture in NC, make a list of questions.
7. Split wood.
8. Read "Deerslayer."
9. Plan early spring garden.
10. Exchange Tom's C.D. Presents for Karen and Tom for Xmas.
WHAT KEPT ME FROM ACCOMPLISHING ALL THE THINGS I WANTED TO DO LAST WEEK:
1. Too long a list.
2. Not enough time.
3. Work items like reading H2O front recommendations and presentation coming up unexpectedly.
STEPS TO SOLVE CONDITONS OF PREVIOUS LIST:
1.
Sketches and notes planning for Everglades Kayaking trip w/ Jenn Darling.
ReplyDeletePlus ink sketch of Monarch butterfly dated January, 1992.
Questions for rangers:
Graveyard Creek Site - H2O quality for snorkeling? Poor all around.
Crowds? NO.
Are backcountry permits given out on a restricted number? Some full.
Any problem getting one this time of year? No problem.
Flamingo Lodge Marina and Outpost Resort
305-253-2241
813-696-3101
Is there any way to hitch a ride from Flamingo to Everglades City w/ canoe and gear? How much $?
North American Canoe Tours 813-695-4666
Pencil drawings of:
My car, side view: Clean inside of car, change oil, check fluids and fill, tires.
Canoe and Tent:
CAMPING EQUIPMENT:
life vests, anchor, water containers (sterilization tablets?), cook stove - Greg, snorkel, candle lantern, flashlight, patch kit for boat, bailing can, flares, nautical chart, VHF?, matches, pliers, binoculars, mirror, compass, shovel.
UTENSILS:
Skillet or iron pot, definitely worthwhile, saucepans/bottle - maybe could find @ thrift shop. knife; campknife, mess kit, wooden bowl, containers for oil, honey.
Toilet articles:
sacred paper, First Aid - band aids, aspirin, baking soda, sterile bandages, H2O2, Iodine, adhesive tape, needle, camp knife, anti-bacteria ointment, snake bite kit, limes, garlic, ace bandages, bug juice, suntan lotion, sunglasses.
BOOKS:
Birds, Trees, Books on tape from library for ride South.
FOOD:
Dry: oats, teas, milk, tang, lentils, raisins, figs, dates, rice, walnuts, Taboule, spaghetti noodles.
Wet: honey, olive oil, H2O - duh, lime juice.
Cans: Chick peas, kidney beans, tuna fish, tomatoes.
Herbs: Pepper, garlic powder, Thyme, Marjoram, Cumin, Oregano, basil.
Does Jenn have old film canisters?
Fruit/Veggies: Tomatoes (dried), oranges, grapefruit, apples, carrots, limes, garlic.
"Finish every day and be done with it.
ReplyDeleteYou have done what you could.
Some blunders and absurdities
no doubt crept in; forget them
as soon as you can.
Tomorrow is a new day; begin
it well and serenely and with
too high a spirit to be encumbered
with your old nonsense.
This day is all that is good and fair.
It is too dear with its hopes and
invitations to waste a moment on
the yesterdays."
Unknown Author.
On opposite page a pen sketch of Pahayokee - Indian name for grassy water.
Working out our paddling itinerary in the Everglades:
ReplyDeleteDay 1: Flamingo to South Joe River chickee ~ 10 miles.
Day 2: Option 1:S.J.R.C to Joe River - 7 miles,
Option 2: to Oyster Bay - 11 miles.
Day 3: Option 1 - Joe River to Oyster Bay - 4 miles.
Option 1a. - Joe to Shark River or Shark Pt. - 9 miles.
Option 2. Oyster Bay to Shark River chickee - 5 miles
Day 4: Option 1:Shark R. to NW Cape - 14 miles.
Option 2: Shark Pt. to N.W. Cape - 10 miles.
Day 5: Option 1 - NW cape to Middle Cape - 4 miles.
Option 2 - Middle Cape to East Cape - 4 miles.
Day 6: Option 1 - East Cape to Club House - 3 miles.
Option 2 - Club House to Flamingo - 6 miles.
The planned itinerary:
First day, Wednesday - FL to S.J.R.C. - 10 miles.
Second day, Thursday - S.J.R.C. to J.R. - 7 miles or S.J.R.C. to O.B. - 11 miles.
Third day, Friday - J.R. to S.R.C. - 9 miles or J.R. to S.R.Pt. - 9 miles.
Fourth day, Saturday - S.R.C. to Graveyard Ck. ~ 8 miles.
Fifth day, Sunday - Graveyard Ck to N.W. Cape ~ 10 miles.
Sixth day, Monday - N.W. Cape to East Cape ~ 8 miles.
Seventh Day, Tuesday - East Cape to Flamingo ~ 9 miles.
Simple ink sketches of birds:
ReplyDeleteorange beak, mottled brownish, grey and white. Came up from grey silty sand beach. Working the grass for insects?
Sketch of our two-person "Poke boat." with PAYAYOKEE written under the sketch.
Learning how to paddle the Vagabond (Poke boat) Diane loaned us. Not as easy as it looks. Jenn and I paddled Nine Mile Pond trail yesterday to get a feel for the paddling. By the end of the five mile trail we were much more in synch than when we started out. The trail looped through red mangroves, and saw grass flats. In some spots the water was only six to eight inches deep but we were able to glide through. Alligators abounded in the open waters where we put in.
Simple sketch of gator floating in water.
Sketch of our kayak loaded, deep in the water:
Bogged down with food in the bow. Not trying to make excuses for my shitty steering. Need to load food into stern. Generally move weight aft. I found a comfortable perch sitting topsides aft of steersman's seat. Legs not bunched up. A few boats with motors passed us on a canal to Coot Bay. Jenn gave 'em the old slow down hand motion. Most seemed to understand. A couple rental boat people - dudes - were in a hurry. Hurry up and have fun. Boat (loaded)down to seam between topsides and bottom.
Black ink sketch of South Joe River Chickee:
Fish are active tonight. Mosquitoes too.
On opposite page:
Mangrove and ground/water with attached oysters.
Sketch around the following:
"Do you realize how hard it
is to sit. Be quiet.
Watch - see.
Listen - hear.
Last sketch of the candle lantern and associated shadows @ Graveyard Creek, before writing on next pages is mostly undecipherable:
Most of the stars in the east have faded.
Northeast winds have blown the lapping
waves away from this shore.
I couldn't sleep this night. Birds nearby talking at interval with each other. Met a man named Angus. He sailed to Graveyard Creek from near Marcos Island (northwestern corner of Everglades) in a fold-up kayak. His fold-up mountain bike is stored forward of the mast. Outriggers under sail turn into a trailer that he can use to haul his boat around with his bike. It's cold here.
Angus Whitaker, 475 Dover Way, Campbell, CA 95008. (408) 559-7260 - Justin and Ruth. 1-800-421-2110 Answering service.
PAYAYOKEE should be PAHAYOKEE.
ReplyDeleteFriday
ReplyDeleteJournal still wet after five day. Sea water and books don't mix. Humans and sea water even for as short a time as three hours don't mix. Especially in Ponce de Leon Bay, Everglades, Florida. (I think it was the Shark River Bay...will have to check the photo/trip album Jenn made of our adventure.)
February 2, 1992
Much exposed oyster and marl flats in front of Graveyard Creek. Made a big mistake in trying to paddle straight across the bay instead of hugging the shoreline until we got into the lee of Shark River Island or Cape Sable. By mid-day we had taken on half a boat full of water. Tide was coming in, wind blowing out. Tried to bail water from boat with apple juice bottle and 4" x 8" x 1" from outside boat. Very slow progress. Had to ditch pants and sweats because they were weighing down. Grey sky and made cold. Back in to boat to rig makeshift mast, boon and sail while Jenn held on and swam alongside. No luck w/ sail continued bailing. Seemed to have good headway on bailing water. Got back in. Paddled. Swamped. Tried pulling and swimming swamped boat to shore. Not making progress. Worrying a bit about really making it to shore. Getting tangled in line to boat as swimming. Buoyed by life jacket and floating cushion. Decided to let go of boat even though it was Diane's.Swam back to get fanny pack with car keys and books. Jenn picked up waterproof bag w/ her wallet, clothes and ???. Jenn swam ahead swimming strongly. While ___ ___ ___ (three words I can't make out) bottom up ahead, feet kicking above water ____ _____ back and forth to make sure we were ____ _____ ____progress to island. Thought about Jenn drowning and how it wouldn't be a good thing. Decided it wouldn't ____ _____ swimming by kicking w/ feet. After who knows how many kicks and gasps of salt water Jenn made it to the Red Mangrove - lined shore. Stumbled. Fell. Got up. Fell. I made it to shore. Staggered around like a fool. We put on all of Jenn's clothes from her watersoaked dry-bag and started heading inland to get away from the wind. All I could think about was getting warm. To the sun. Away from the wind. Jenn barking at me to straighten up, follow her, Move quickly. I just wanted to rest.
(I didn't include in the journal how the kayaking trip ended.
DeleteOn the lee of the island, Jenn was able to flag down some folks fishing in a boat. Turns out the three people, two men and one woman, were well trained to help us: the woman a nurse, one man a doctor and the other an Alaskan wilderness guide. They also had a VHF and were able to communicate w/ the Rangers at Flamingo Bay about finding us, our condition...possible hypothermia and then had fleeces that they put us in after stripping us of our cold, wet clothing. By the time we got back to Flamingo Bay, there was a van, with heat blowing inside, waiting for us. They took our body temperature confirming the diagnosis of Hypothermia. Inside the van they put chill packs on us and blankets. After ~ 1 hr. they took our temperatures again, Jenn's had come up into a normal range. Mine, skinny body-type that I am, hadn't. Next thing I know they're talking to Jenn about air-lifting me to a nearby hospital in Homestead or Miami. I explained that I was fine and feeling much better. But they dismissed my comments. Not long after I was strapped in a stretcher being put aboard the helicopter. As we flew to Homestead, me strapped horizontally looking at the ceiling, Jenn exclaimed, "I've always wanted to see the Everglades from the air." After an IV and couple bags of saline solution to rehydrate me, they asked Jenn if she had also been in the water. She got rehydrated with a glass of oj...That night at the hotel, Jenn made a call to her dear friend Daniel Chichester, whom I don't think she'd talked to in quite a long time. That phone call ultimately lead to their dating and getting married....The lengths I went through to get my friends married. : -) Surprisingly the Park Rangers found our kayak w/ some items missing. Not long after we got home we got a photo post card of us heading off that morning from Angus Whitaker, the man we met the day before our mishap who was sailing the fold-up kayak, wondering how we made out, especially considering he found some things floating as he sailed across the same waters. I owe great debts of gratitude to Jennifer Darling and the folks on the boat who picked us up, plus the park rangers, helicopter pilots and Homestead Hospital workers. Thank you for your skill and kindness.)
Tuesday, Feb. 4th, 1992.
ReplyDeleteReturn trip:
Charleston, S.C. to visit Dawn Alessi (another friend and graduate of Southampton College). She told me about a clam farm near Folly Beach. Wednesday morning I got my butt over to the place to weedle a tour. Dropped Dawn't name and the fact that I was from a Shellfish Hatchery on Long Island. A guy named Gregg Anderson gave me a walkthrough starting w/ the monitoring computer in the lab. The business. This operation is about a year old. Not housed in an old building, converted to a hatchery. This is all new. Designed to be a Clam Farm, Hatchery. Situated out on an upland portion of an extensive marsh between Folly Beach and Charleston.
Gregg Anderson
Lab Manager
Atlantic Farms
P.O. Box 12139
James Island, SC 29422.
2107 Folly Rd, 29412
Tel: 803 762-0022
Diagrams of the facility.
Sunday, Feb 9th, 1992.
ReplyDeleteIt's bitingly cold. But, snow flurries from yesterday and a bright winter sun and a hot mug of tea make me feel good. I look arund my desk ans see chaos. Soaked colored pencils and a damp and mangled box. Pictures of family, old letters, and scores of old bills. I laid on my bed this morning as the winter sun lighted the sky, thinking about where I'm going. I don't know. Today I'll clean my desk, filing cabinet and room. Maybe something here will give me a sign. My deck of cards life is hard to follow. Friends, family, animals, garden, land, boat, boats, education, aquaculture, farming. All randomly ordered in the deck. Today I pick up the top card. What will it be? Tomorrow I'll pick another card. Something in another suit, perhaps?
As much as I pretend to control this life I'm living, the more I realize I'm clinging on to a wild colt. It's energies go everywhere but it goes nowhere. The trip to Florida has pulled me back from my routine. Now it doesn't seem to fit.
WORK:
ReplyDeleteNational Shellfisheries Association
National Marine Fisheries Service
212 Rogers Ave.
Milford, CT 06460
(203) 783-4200.
Dr. Steve Tettlebach
Division of Natural Sciences
Southampton College, L.I.U.
Southampton, NY 11968
Regular membership..
February 11th, 1992
Sketch of garage, chicken coup and compost pile in back yard of our house on Knoll Rd. in Southampton.
So much for the animal phase. Rowena died the day after I dropped her off with Karen. Today I came home from work and the last two chickens are gone. Except for two white feathers.
One day I'm looking at a boat named "Ruth" in North Carolina down the road from Diane and Bob, a little less than a week later I'm lookiing at a house for sale in Springs. What exciting adventure will come with tomorrow's card? Maybe a live-aboard airplane. How about a five hundred pound Yak?
I'd like to know what happened to the chickens. Was it a cat or a dog? Did the chickens suffer?
(Gary had taken great care of the chickens while Jenn and I were in the Everglades. In my desire to have "free-range" chickens, I left the door to the coup open the first day I went back to work and this is what happened. Bad choice, Craig.)
AQUACULTURE JOURNAL: TOWN OF EAST HAMPTON SHELLFISH HATCHERY - Thoughts on Thinking, Problem Solving.
ReplyDeleteKeep in perspective: Work is a relatively small part of life.
Monday, February 10, 1992
Cold day, ~ 20-25 F in a.m. Met Sue at T.H. Gased truck, wait for John. Split w/out John. Got to hatch ~10:00. Talk w/ Sue about algae culture experiment with flasks and carboys:
Control: (Water + nutrients) autoclaved and 1 ml "Thalassiosira"
Experimental Treatments:
Water, chlorinated then 4 hrs. later dechlorinated, then nutrients and 1 ml "Thalassiosira"
Water, autoclaved, Nutrients + 1 ml "Thalassiosira."
Simple diagram of Erlenmyer flasks for experiment.
During talk w/ Sue, John came in. Start pump. Lost prime. Not frozen though. Dock covered in ice. 30' x 14" tree trunk lodged between legs of 3rd dolphin (grouping of several pilings around a central piling) out from beach Tried to pull out, away from beach to get loose, but fork at end wouldn't allow. Messed around w/ trunk for 1/2 hr. to hr. Got John. Suggested pulling trunk through dolphin. He pried using 15' x 4" piece of wood found near the pump house. I pulled using 3/4" line. Got most of the way through then got truck and long 1.5" line. Lasoed end of trunk. Pulled trunk on shore by backing truck up beach. Back to hatchery. Lunch. Started work putting pieces of rigid, corrugated fiberglass above conical area. Pop riveting pieces together and nailing at ends onto 2" x 6" rafter supporting lights on one side and airline on other side. Not becoming one with fiberglass and pop rivets. General whining and moaning unbecoming to a man of my 27 years. Left hatchery around 5:30.
Simple sketches of:
aerial view of dock w/ tree trunk stuck through dolphin and
me standing on scaffolding working on fiberglass and pop riveting.
Aquaculture notes for 2-13-92.
ReplyDeleteMet John at Town Hall ~8:45. Put top and bottom battens on plastic outside of hatchery area east. John came out and helped cover removable panel and door in wall. I cut battens and sheets of plastic plus trimmed excess plastic from previous work while John stapled sheets up. Later in afternoon, used acrylic latex caulk to fill gaps around removable section and gaps between wall and support pillar on one side and brick wall on other side.. Debating the worth of the plastic considering the time it took to put it up. I guess other options would include flat sheets of fiberglass, or corrugated sheets, or plywood or sheetrock. All of the later would take a longer amount of time and cost more than double or triple for materials.
Sue and I put diaphragm pump into algae room. With John's direction, decided to cut existing P.V.C. line back and slide fitting on to P.V.C. without silicone. Sue and I put a.c. into algae room. I hooked front cover on and later turned unit on to see if it worked.
After lunch I finished caulking around plasticized wall. Could have done this while John was talking to Eric (Engstrom) and Sean instead of hanging around and listening while they talked. Remember work still uncompleted when a situation like this arises, for future reference.
Ripped 5/4" into two strips for horizontal sheets of glass stell next to the truss to cover air holes. Talked with John about how we're going to work out transition around remaining truss.
Diagram of area I'm working on with following notes:
1. Must level a line across at bottom of box to each supporting 2 x 4.
2. 2 x 4 in place between supporting 2 x4 on one side.
3. Nail horizontal piece between 2 x 4's on opposite sides.
9:15 - 5:30 @ hatchery.
4. plywood nailed to flat.
Delete5. fiberglass nailed to top.
6. Could put in 2, 2x4's between supports on each side. One to catch plywood. One to catch fiberglass.
Valentine's Day, 1992.
ReplyDeleteSue's last day before her two week vacation in California. Vacations are great things. Setting up a schedule for algae culture for two weeks while Sue's away. Maintenance of cultures on Mondays. "Thalassiosira" experiment on Tuesdays and Fridays. Experiment: One culture to loop innoculate 2 flasks boiled over stove w/ nutrients and silica added. Three days later use culture to innoculate carboys (5 gallon glass containers). Three days later use caroys to innoculate tubes (Kalwall ~ 60 gallons). On Fridays, in addition to experiment will take two hundred fifty mls from 2 pav (Pavlova lutherii) and 2 iso (Isochrysis galbana) flasks to innoculate 2 pav. and 2 iso. carboys. Sue has directions all written out. I'll copy them so it will help me stick them into my brain. Finished putting up 2, 5/4" x 1.5" x 55" pieces to block air from going out (of heated hatchery area) around first truss. John called suggesting I insulate with foam area above boiler room where glass steel meets wall and where wall of glass steel meets north wall of building. Did that but didn't understand and used pieces of foam pipe w/ tape to fill in. It seemed to work though. Started gathering and cutting pieces of glass steel for wall between hallway and set tanks. Cut waterline pipe to set tanks and extended along 2" x 6." Cut pipe near conicals and installed "T" for another valve. Helped John intermittently to put up 2 x 4's around second truss. Jobs to do:
1. Plastic between lower wall and where glass steel comes from above.
2. Use hard wood to fix one of doors.
3. Make handle to shut other door.
4. Push in fixed door between upwellers and set tanks.
5. Use foam rubber to fill pipe holes through glass stee..
9:30 - 5:30.
Monday, February 17, 1992.
ReplyDeleteCheechako - newcomer
Mannyasse - beaver cutter, serves a log from all sides by hacking at it w/ out knowing where the timber will fall.
What? Work is all that's important enough to go in here? Nope.
Penciled sketch of Mimosa tree and stump.
The Mimosa tree stump from the garden has been moved. Dig, dig, flying dirt. Loamy soil 8 - 10," sandy soil yellow with some gravel >1 inch. Not so small. No. Success yesterday trying to pull it with G's truck (black mazda pick up.)
2-17-92 Hatchery:
Diagrams of Erlenymer Flasks with notes about (algae) stock maintenance.
Pumped - primed pump, w/ fresh H2O, cleaned bottles, incoming H2O?
Algae working 11:30 - 1:30.
Drove to Massapeaqua to meet Mike Durham from Exmore, VA who brought 4' x 8' x 1' tanks for post-set.
Glassboat Works, Exmore, VA (804) 442-6033.
Mike Durham (804) 442-5018.
Drive to Massapeaqua and back 3:00 - 6:30.
February 18, 1992
Diagrams of Erlenmyer flasks and algae work.
"Thalassiosira" experiment B - loop innoculations into 250 ml of boiled (water) and nutrients (F/2). F/2: Solution A (2), Solution B (2), Vitamins (3), Minerals (2).
Insualted tanks. Put vouchers in @ T.H. Copied vouchers. Signed. Algae work in moring. Cauling around wall between set tanks and upwellers. Blocks on double doors and stops on doors in hallway.
9:30 - 5:30. 1/2 hr. lunch.
February 19, 1992.
Swirled algae in a.m. Stuffing foam into wall around pipes. Caulking today not Tuesday. Worked on letter to Planning regarding Surface Water Inventory. Put stops around door from sets to upwellers.
10:30 - 6:30.
February 20, 1992.
Mild and partly clooudy. Temp = 4 C.
Typed letter to Planning Department re: Waterfront recommendations.
Diagram of carboys on table shelf in algae room.
Cleaned and chlorinated carboys for tomorrow's innoculation. "Thalassiosira" experiment progressed enough to prepare carboys.
Pumped. Took fiberglass sheets and pine angled pieces from 2 x 6 in set area. Installed sheet plastic in area where fiberglass was. Looks much better. Copied keys for hatchery and town hall. Mark Greene - lighting guy from the town stopped by to find out about job position.
Saturday February 22, 1992.
Roots from stump plaguing my progress Saturday. Spread manure over entire area. (Creating a garden at home, 80 Knoll Rd, Southampton.)
Sunday, February 23, 1992.
Turned manure into old portion of garden. Set up red rosin paper to. Digging up garden!
2-21-92
DeleteWorked on plastic sheeting between fiberglass sheets. Cut new ply support for third 2" valve. Trimmed and refastened two end supports. Put back in place clear fiberglass sheet at end of wall nearest lobby. Rick and Gilly (Gilly is Rick and Maude Salter's baby.) Talk for an hour.
ALGAE WORK: dechlorinated carboys. 50 ml flask transfers of Iso and Pav. Used A & B Iso and Pav to innoculate carboys. Saved C Iso & Pav as a back up. Filled white container with 5 micron filtered seawater from Ton's head tank. Washed 4 old flasks and filled w/ filtered H2O for "Thal" experiment. Added F/2 (nutrients) to 4 and silica to 2. Boiled. Cooled and innoculated w/ 1 ml of 2/10 Thal since shceduled parent from loop innoculation not ready.
9:15 - 5:45.
2-24-92
Algae a.m.
Pumped
Set up tubes w/ 5 micron filtered H2O.
Chlorinated tubes.
50 ml transfers of maintenance stock.
P.M.
Cut vinyl for two openings into conical area.
Helped John w/ glass steel up above.
Put third 2" water valve in place stapled up vinyl in central opening.
Diagram of wall I'm working on in conical area w/ note: will use velcro to fasten vinyl in a few spots.
9:30 - 6:00. 1.5 hr. lunch.
2-25-92
ALGAE - dechlor tubes w/ 15 ml Sodium thiosulphate.
made 270 ml nutrients (F/2) A: 60 ml, B: 60 ml, Trace: 90 ml, Vit: 60 ml.
Prepared bottles for boiling. Added 1 ml F/2 prior to boil. Innoculate tubes w/ carboys added 90 ml F/2.
Innoculated 4 "Thal" flasks w/ 1 ml of 2/17 "Thal" culture.
2 flasks added 1 ml of sodium silicate.
HATCH - Cut 2 vinyl pieces for large opening nearest upwelling area. Cut back fiberglass sheets near.
*Learned - in prying one board from another, start at one end releasinig nails and work to other end. When you get to othr end, board should fall away from piece it was nailed to.
9:30 - 5:30. 1 hr. lunch.
2-26-92
Worked on openings. Made middle opening two flaps. Eastern-most opeing one
2-28-92
ReplyDeleteFriday
By myself. ALGAE: a.m. Prepared 4 flasks for boiling: wash w/ muriatic/alconox. Rinse w/ F H2O and SH2O. Made 90 ml nutrients: 20 A, 20 B, 30 Trace metals, 20 Vitamins, 1 ml (nutrients) into each flask. Boiled. While cooling dis 50 ml algae transfers: 3 for "Isochrysis", 3 for "Pavlova", 1 ml algae transfers of "Thal" from 2-21 w/ Si ml and 1 ml, group in lab. 2 w/ Si, 1 ml "Thal" into 3 carboys. 1 carboy innoculated w/ 2 flasks 2/18 (loop) w/ Si. Remaining 2 carboys innoc. w/ 2 flasks of 2/21 "Thal" w/ Si. Set up "Thal" carboys on separate table in algae room.
Innoculated carboys. UV sterilized cork, glass and air line before setting up in algae room. Added 1 ml of sodium thiosulphate to carboy, > 15 min. before innoculating. Tempt 17 C near carboys in algae room. Lights on during day Temp on top row of flasks 21.5 C at end of day. Turned one light of before leaving and opened door to drop Temp.
Cut holes in 4 new (set) tanks usinig crazy hole driller. Loaded wood in lobby onto truck. Moved table in lobby onto truck. Stowed spare tire back under turck. Moved table in lobby to shop area. Put light covers that Jeff painted back in place above upwellers and tidal upweller. Took anchors, etc. from hold on boat and put in 10, 1" x 6" boards for flooring. 4' x 8' x 1/2" sheet of ply didn't fit in hold. Unloaded boat stuff into corner of shop area. During lunch put 2, 2" x 4" supports in aquarium table. Cut piece of 3/4" plywood for top w/ 1/4" extra width and breadth.
Sunday, March 1, 1992.
ReplyDeletePen drawing of my lower leg, socked ankle and converse covered foot.
Can you believe I've forgotten the names of people who helped Jenn and me in our Everglades adventure? That sucks. No wonder I'm unhappy when I've got time on my hands. I owe Jill and her friends a letter of thanks, plus her socks.
Something's come over me; besides this cold that's got my handkerchief at hand.
Jenn's away working at her Grandmother's in Cambridge, NY. There must be a bigger lesson to our accident than, don't go to sea with a menstruating woman, always carry a bilge pump, the right boat for the job, never underestimate the power of the wind and water. I feel inadequate and unresolved, helpless and weak, not to mention out of control.
When will I grow up? What will I do? I don't feel comfortable around me. Where will these feelings lead me?
" I would go far up the spring branch, wading in the clear water, bending low through the green feather curtains of weeping willows that hung down, trailing branch tips in the current. Water ferns made green lace that curved over the stream and offered holding places for the little umbrella spiders.
ReplyDeleteThese little fellers would tie one end of a thin cable to the fern branch, then leap into the air, spilling out more cable in an umbrella and try to make it across to a fern branch on the other side. If he made it, he would tie the cable and jump back - back and forth - until he had a pearly looking net sperad over the spring.
These were gritty little fellers. If they fell in the water, they got swept along in rapids and had to fight to stay on topand make it to the bank before a brook minnow got them.
I squatted in the middle of the spring branch and watched one little spider trying to get his cable across. He had determined that he was going to have the widest pearl net anywheres up and down the whole spring branch; and he picked a wide place. He would tie his cable, jump in the air and fall in the water. He'd get swept downstream, fighting for his life, crawl out on the bank and come back to that same fern. Then he'd try again.
The thrid time he came back to the fern and walked out on the end and laid down, crossing his front arms under his chin, to study the water. I figured he was might near give out - I was, and my bottom was numbing cold from squatting in the spring branch. He laid there thinking and studying. In a minute he got a thought, and commenced to jump up and down on the fern. Up and down. The fern got to rising and falling. He kept at it, jumping to move the fern down and riding it back up. Then, of a sudden, when the fern rose high, he jumped, letting out his umbrella - and he made it.
He was fired up proud and lept around after he made it, until he nearly fell off. His pearl net became the widest I ever saw."
"Education of Little Tree" Forrest Carter.
"A leader is best,
ReplyDeletewhen people barely
know that he exists...
when his work is done,
his aim fulfilled, they
will say, "We did this
ourselves."
March 2, 1992
ReplyDeleteHATCH:
Screwed top on to aquarium stand.
Clean up in lobby area.
Filling holes in spawn area ceiling. Reattatching.
Fiberglass ceiling nearest lobby.
Weatherproof doors between conicals and spawn area.
9:30 - 5:30. 1 hr. lunch.
March 3, 1992
Stops on doors from hallway/spawn area.
Caulking door to upwellers.
Set tanks: holes, sanding/grinding.
9:15 - 5:15. 1 hr. lunch.
March 4, 1992.
Wednesday.
Rode bike from Sag Harbor to work. In talking @ work more specifically answering questions. *Take time to think about question and answer in specific, exact, scientific terms, ie. "Sue's experiment w/ 1/2 carboy and "Thal" is not to 'see what happens w/ 1/2 a carboy since it was done with a whole carboy last week.' Rather, "she's observing if the effect of a reduced volume of water on the rate at which the carboy is ready to transfer to a kalwall tube." GOOD LESSON.
Loaded truck w/ John, boat, motor, fuel, anchor, waders, hip boots, paddle, buckets. 2nd time hydrometer and thermometer. Tonging for oysters in Oyster Pond. H2O Temp in O.P. = 2 C. Incoming hatchery H2O = 3 C. Sue put 24 oysters in set tank for conditioning. Remainder in upweller tank. 1/3 fresh H2O, 2/3 bayH2O.
Grinded n/w set tanks outside. 2 down, 2 to go.
*DON'T LET GUARD DOWN WITH JOHN. LISTEN CAREFULLY. WHEN SPEAKING, DO IT LOUD AND CLEAR.
9:15 - 4:45. 1 hr. lunch.
3-5-92
KAYAK: All lines faired from lofting. Transfer stations to cross sections at each station to make templates for molds. Pricked templates on to 1/2 C-D plywood. Last night cut molds out of plywood; Gary using circular saw. Me using jig saw.
March 5, 1992
ReplyDeleteGrinding set tank in a.m. Lunch. Load truck up w/ tongs, anchor, buckets, boots, etc. from clamming in Lake aboard boat. Pathetic clamming east of Osborne Island near north end. John having most success. 2-3 hrs out on water yielded ~ 2.5 dozen clams, ~ 1 dozen oysters from transplant to the Lake 2 years ago.
9:00 - 5:00. 1 hr. lunch.
March 6, 1992
Pumped in a.m. Filled upper upweller, tank nearest garage door for clam and oyster (from L.M.) broodstock. Changed H2O in lower tank. Used hydrometer to gauge salinity - specific gravity between 1.0 and 2.0.
9:00 - 4:00. 1/2 hr. lunch.
March 9, 1992
ReplyDeleteMonday - Rode bike. Applied end patches on all four tanks and one side patch on tank glassed on Friday. New system: put layer of resin on tank, layer dry glass on resin. Worked from one end of glass to other dabbing w/ resin. Helped Sue clean glassware.
9:30 - 5:30. 1 hr. lunch.
March 10, 1992.
Tuesday - Finished remaining side patches. Primed pump in a.m. pumped. Incoming H2O T=4 C. Very warm day. Left garage door open overnight.
DON'T FORGET TO CHECK BUILDING BEFORE YOU LEAVE! Discussed purchasing pearl nets and problems getting prepayment.
9:15 - 5:15. 1 hr. lunch.
March 11, 1992.
Wednesday - Flipped (set) tanks over. Sanded inside corners. Swept corners, tack clothed w/ acetone. Moved into lobby since putty suggests 70 F for curing. Patched voids in corners. Putzed around w/ John getting buckets w/ H2O from leaks in roof. Holding up 2 x 4 for end section of glass steel above conicals/fan. Put up glass steel on lower portion of open area above fan. Tacked up plastic upper section. Called Westcott Bay Sea Farms and talked w/ Doree Webb about getting pearl nets. And prepayment. Talked to Tim about getting prepaid invoice. Okayed. Sue has job offer in CA.
9:30 - 5:30. 1 hr. lunch.
March 12, 1992.
Thursday - Came in early. Called Wainscott, Windows and Walls about foam and price. Water Mill Fabric store has what we need, but their hours are hard to meet. Got the P.O. together for Wescott Bay Sea Farms. Dropped it by for Tim. Cut holes in plastic for area directly above fan. Put up plastic. Held ends of 2 x 4"s for plastic along north wall in conical area. Sanded putty in two set tanks. Missed fabric store.
8:15 4:15. 1 hr. lunch.
March 13!, 1992.
Friday - Swept and tacked remaining 2 tanks. Moved 4 tanks back to shop area. Resined corners. Cleaned up fiberglass equipment, brushes, et al. Lowered H2O in broodstock tank ~ 2" by siphoning off fecal material from bottom. *TURN OFF HEATER WHEN LOWERING H2O. Added H2O from top tank. Added 10 gal 50:50, Iso:Pav in a.m. Dropped T from 18 C (too high) to 15 C. Caulked bottom edge of east wall. Cut trimmed and put up large, 31" x 11" piece of plastic on north wall. Swept conical area.
9:15 - 5:15. 1 hr. lunch.
Ink sketch of aquarium table I was building for lobby.
March 16th, 1992.
ReplyDeleteMonday - Picked up foam at Wendy's Fabrics in Water Mill. Put foam in hatchery area where ceiling meets walls. Sanded set tanks to smooth bumps and rough spots. Recut drain holes. Moved tanks back into lobby because corner resin still tacky. Set up airlines and corks for conicals. Plastic sheet along north wall seems to help substantially. *PLASTICIZE HATCHERY AREA. Cut holes in two corks for conicals that need larger corks, #7's. Broodstock being fed heavily - continuous feeding from blue barrel.
Ink sketch of table w/ conicals and air lines/corks attached.
10:30 - 5:30. 1 hr. lunch.
March 17, 1992. - St. Patrick's Day.
Tuesday - pumped in a.m. Incoming H2O = 3 C. Set up rollers for cutting P.V.C. pipe on table saw. Fiddled around with set up and trying to find out height of catch screens and basins until lunch time. Cut catch screens to 10", leg below screen 1.5." 9:00 - 5:00. Diagram of catch screen and bottom. 1 hr. lunch.
March 18th, 1992.
Wednesday - Met J @ T.H. Scavenged some eye bolts off of old clam traps in the beach parking lot off of Atlantic Beach. Drove out to work via beach to Napeague. Cut catch basins w/ Sue's help. Made cuts in one bottom for catch screens. Put screen on using "made-a-clamp" and glued bottom to screen which was glued on to top. Finished cutting semi-circles out of bottoms. Grinded edges of bottom lightly. Sanded outside edges of tops so mesh wouldn't be ripped when tightening. Glued up 2 more catch screens.
Diagram of catch screen, screen and bottom. 9:00 - 4:45.
March 19th, 1992.
Thrusday - Worked on sieve screens. 6: 200 micron, mesh catch screens; 2, 320 micron catch screens. Cleaned up and put away rollers, plywood, upweller-making apparatus. Fixing pearl nets. Siphoned off shit in broodstock tank. 8:30 - 5:30. 1/2 hr. lunch.
March 20, 1992.
Friday - Talked to John about:
1. My having responsibility for certain aspects of the hatchery,
2. Having some kind of priority sheet so I can know what jobs to do next instead of asking, and
3. Having, say, one lunch a week when we're all together where we talk about the next week's plans, focus, whatever.
Bottom line: John can't trust Sue or I to completely do certain aspects on our own, coupled w/ John's desire to have his fingers in all hatchery pots. Basically, what came out of talk:
1. I must learn to not need control of projects I'm working on.
2.* I must be able to take interjections from John w/out having my ego get in way and feel hurt and get mad. The underlying goal and foremost goal is to have hatchery succeed. Friendships are a secondary or lower concern.
3.* COMMUNICATION: critical in success. Do not ask to do such and such. Say, I'm thinking about doing such and such in this or that way; thereby allowing John to direct if chosen way isn't most important at moment.
4.* PLANNING DAY: look around, think about what is going on where we are headed; look at all aspects of what we are doing then plan day's activities accordingly.
* MOST IMPORTANT.
Work: Looked @ chrome sieving basins to find way of adding shelving and locating it in the hatchery. Listed options for location. Worked on box for hole in wall to allow air compressor in boiler room. Came up with...diagram of box. Talked about location of basin during lunch.
9:00 - 5:30.
March 23, 1992.
ReplyDeleteMonday - Plan to finish box. Too cold to install and mortar in. So, planning to move to making shelves for sieving station. Shelf at shin level underneath end shelves. Spawn of oysters planned for today. Ended up moving one able of three conicals out of hatchery after finishing box. Reconfigured middle tow rows of conicals to allow room for sieving/spawning station. Leveled up three tables of conicals after moving. Set up lights above one 1,000 gallon tank (upstairs) which will be used to culture "Thalassiosira". 2, 4' lights hanging via fishing line off of one eight foot set of lights. Make a set of blocks: 1, 2"x 6" x 8", and 2, 2" x 4" x 6" for propping up set tanks to drain. Drilled holes in blocks and hung off of stand near where they'd be used. During lunch wrote letter to Wescott Bay Sea Farms to accompany purchase order.
Diagrams of conical arrangement and upstairs algae tank with lights above. 9:30 - 5:30. 1 hr. lunch.
March 24, 1992.
Tuesday - Put 16" x 11" pieces of pipe in lobby to warm up along with 16, 1/2" square pieces of plastic. Mortared in to place. Hooked up compressor in boiler room.*ALWAYS CHECK WHAT YOU DID TO MAKE SURE IT WORKS. ie. hook up compressor. Turn on. Check air coming out of valves. Helped Sue set up air stones in 1,000 gallon mass culture tank. Lunch. Glued pipe to flat piece for seven basins. Put away table for gluing pipe in lobby. Put away extra pipe material and cinder blocks. Moved new head tank for algae culture into hatchery area for tomorrow's water test. 9:15 - 5:15. 1/2 hr. lunch.
March 25, 1992.
Wednesday - Took apart upstairs railing. Moved algae head tank upstairs via set tanks and through glass steel panels. Put railing and glass steel roof back together. Cut pieces of 2 x 4 and 2 x 6 for blocks to drain set tanks. Cut blocks of 2 x 4 for base of algae head tank. Nailed blocks in a circle. Put blocks on string for draining set tanks. Cut glass steel covers to keep airborne salt H2O from being sucked from set tank or conical under fans, through fans. Moved new set tanks back on to stands. 9:00 - 5:00. 1 hr. lunch.
March 26, 1992.
Thursday - Siphoned broodstock tank. Heated and pumped H2O. Filled broodstock tank and set tank in hatchery and to start 3 new batches of animals for conditioning. Added algae. Cut circle for algae supply barrel and put in place on corner of broodstock tank. Cut out 2" drain line running through hatchery and into lab NEED TO FILL HOLE IN GLASS STEEL. Fiddled w/ algae flow for broodstock and siphoned at end of day. Pumped and filled head tank to 600 gallons. 9:00 - 5:45. 1 hr. lunch.
March 27, 1992.
Friday - Siphoned both broodstock tanks. Drained down to 1/3 added new heated water. Fed 15 gallons algae to new broodstock. Pumped again because I wanted H2O in getting it up to temp. Messed around w/ airline for set tanks. Compared plastic tubing prices between Fisher and Area. 10:00 - 5:30. 1/2 hr. lunch.
March 28, 1992.
Saturday - Siphoned both broodstock tanks. Needed H2O. Moved 3-26-92 L.M. O1, C1 and O.P. 02 into same tank as 3-4-92 O.P. Oy. Filled blue barrel w/ I: 10, P:10, Thal: 20 algae.
2:30 - 5:30.
This shall be the dividing line between the aquaculture notes and my journal. The work notes dominate my writing efforts. I wonder lately if I can keep this life-thing going. That must be the ego talking. I had forgotten about old ego. Now it turns out he's been there, everywhere with me. He's involved in everything I do. He's the reason I'm so sensitive to what others say. This is only coming to light as my routine becomes regular. Working at the hatchery, now full-time employee. Weedend; for the most part, mine to do as I please. My car is acting up and I get mad, swear, pound my hands on the steering wheel. It was running beautifully a little over a week ago. Now, even after I take it to Joe's Garage and spend $132, after spending $120 last week for inspection and new tires, it still hesitates. But is that really worth my frustration, anguish, expended energy through complaining? A definite "NO." I have an unhealthy attachment to money and my ego. I'll bet the reason I'm having so much trouble with this Everglades trip is due to my EGO and attachment to MONEY. There they are. In fact that's probably why I'm having a hard ime with the car those tow factors are involved again.
ReplyDeleteMarch 30, 1992.
ReplyDeleteMonday - Algae work. Took down two "Thal" carboys. Cleaned and inoculated w/ Iso and Pav. 3 - 3 transfers of Iso and Pav. 1 - 1 transfer of Thal. Boiled water for flasks for Thal in lab. Innoculated. Miscalculated F/2 and Si amounts for filling of Thal. tube. Sue now uses per Thal carboy 35 ml, F/2 and 50 ml, Si. Is that all? Talk at college on Global Epidemic of Toxic Phytoplankton Blooms. Good talk.
March 31, 1992.
Tuesday - Roof day. Eric E (Engstrom), Shawn, and Joe cutting out 32' x 16' hole in roof above mass culture tanks. Siphoned broodstock. Heated H2O. Filled barrel w/ 10:10:20. Repairing pearl nets upstairs while picking nails off of H2O proof floor and generally being available to get anything the roofcutters needed. UNBELIEVABLE DIFFERENCE with roof opened to light. 8:45 - 5:15. 1 hr. lunch. Shellfish Advisory Meeting w/ J.A. @ Stony Brook. 8:00 - 10:30 p.m.
April Fools Day, 1992.
Wednesday - Cleaning upstairs floor and area of sawdust and nails. Relocated P.V.C. pipe to storage bay. Hooking up H2O and air lines to 2 x 4's supporting glass steel. Removing extra nails and old wire form remaining perlins (3" x 12" roof supports that were cut out to put glasssteel window in roof above algae mass-culture tanks. 9:00 - 5:00. 1/2 hr. lunch.
April 2, 1992.
Thursday - Cleaned out gutters, swept outside glasssteel. Moved 3/4" plywood inside along w/ 8 perlins. Cut damaged perlins for firewood. Stored others. Made fender board out of 16' piece of 2" x 12", RIPPED DOWN TO 8.5". Started work on airline assembly for set tanks. P/U 1/2" fitting from Pfund's Hdwr. 8:45 - 3:15. 1/2 hr. lunch.
Diagram of sea water delivery system with notes:
EXPLAIN:
1. How to start pump.
2. How to prime pump.
3. How to heat water.
Diagram of pump house by Fort Pond Bay beach:
Different colors:
1" line.
2" line.
3" intake line.
4" intake line.
TO HEAT WATER:
1. Close all valves in algae room, lab, nursery, hose, heat x-chabge, drain.
2. Check pump at top of stairs.
3. Put (2) plugs in pump.
4. Take stand pipe out of head tank.
5. Let air work it's way out of line by opening a valve - not necessary.
6. Open valves on either side of pump after air bubbles worked out.
7. Turn on pump.
8. Turn on heat exchanger.
April 3, 1992.
Friday - Siphoned broodstock tank. Fed algae. Set up airlines on set tank stands. Dick Beckwith wants fiberglass boat. 9:15 - 4:45. 1/2 hr. lunch.
April 4, 1992.
Saturday - Pumping, siphon broodstock, feed algae. 11:30 - 1:30.
April 6, 1992.
ReplyDeleteMonday - Siphoned broodstock. Refilled w/ 18 C H2O. Attempt spawn of 11 O.P. 01 oysters and 9 L.M. 01 oysters.
April 7, 1992.
Siphoned broodstock, cleaned broodstock tank. Cut excess bottom off of catch buckets. Cut catch buckets down 3/4" because they were causing catch screens to overflow. 9:00 - 5:00. 1 hr. lunch.
April 8, 1992.
Wednesday - Harvested Iso:Pav:Thal, 15:15:20. Added H2O, F/2 and silica to mass culture tanks. Pumped, heated H2O for broodstock, filled broodstock tank. Pumped heated water to 27 F for larvae. Drained larvae conical. Lost most of larvae because I didn't put 325 micron screen on bottom of sieves. OOPS! Finished catch buckets. Put elbows in upweller tanks. Moved Nestier trays in upweller area outside. 9:30 - 5:30. 1 hr. lunch.
April 9, 1992.
Thursday - Pumped and heated water for broodstock. Then pumped more H2O for spawning. Set up spawning table and placed all of the 3-4-92 oysters inside. All oysters, including 6 males from Monday's attempt spawned. Noticed that the eggs were going down the drain after passing through 325 micron screen. Set remainder of new spawn into conical. Cleaned up area. 9:00 - 5:00. 1 hr. lunch.
April 10, 1992.
Friday - Siphoned broodstock, pumped, heated H2O. Drained D1 conical and looked @ animals under microscope. Not many larvae ~ 3/ml or maybe 12,000 animals approximately. Clamming in L.M. on East side near Little Reed outflow. Very good p/u 100 clams easily. P/U 50 clams w/ much effort N of Captain's Marina. 9:00 - 5:00. No lunch break.
April 13, 1992.
ReplyDeleteMonday - Sue and I siphoned broodstock. Drained and sieved set tanks. 9:00 - 4:30. 1/2 hr. lunch.
April 14, 1992.
Tuesday - Cleaned broodstock tank. Spawning 7 O.P. O2, 3_26 and 7 L.M. O1 3-26. A total of 3 males and 5 or 6 females spawned. Fiddling w/ clams and oysters in upwelling area.
April 15, 1992. TAX DAY.
Wednesday - Siphoned broodstock. Sue and I drained 2 conicals and ran through sieves. Filled upper tank w/ remainder of 27 C H2O and set siphon into lower tank of oysters. Started setting up air line/suction cup arrangement for set tanks.
I don't think I want to write with this red pen, but right now I'm feeling too lazy to get up and do anything about it. At least it has ink and is running smoothly. Today was gong along rather well I thought. Until I came to the choice of putting something under the screen or letting it drain straight through. Now I know to put something under. Good by oyster larvae, hello lack of confidence. One stupid move like that and you can easily see why John's afraid to give you responsibility. John's self-control was commendable. It certainly makes up for short, condescending answers, which, now that I think about it, were probably very appropriate for what I said or did at the time. This humble pie certainly is tasty.
A place called home,
ReplyDeleteBlue ink sketch of Mom's house in Etters looking at it from the woods.
Where is my home?
When I'm at Mom's that's my home. When I drive home from work into the driveway with the white Toyota and white van, that's where home is. I think about if my home in the future should be Southampton, the land, N.C. or PA. I don't want to move anymore. One move and that should do it. How can you grow roots, develop community if you're moving, moving, moving? But when you stay in one place you have to face your problems because they catch up with you and are there to remind you that they exist. They are you. I'd like to build my own simple house. No architect, builder. Just me and my partner, whoever it may be.
Monday, April 20, 1992.
Siphoned broodstock, drained broodstock. Tood down conicals, 8. Sieved, redistributed into 11 conicals.
April 23, 1992.
Mindless stuff these aquaculture daily notes. Mixed in and overtaking my personal journal. Maybe these other notes are really a truer picture of me now than I'd like to admit. I do spend a lot of time concerned w/ work. If I'm not actually at work, I'm getting to or from.
Terry and Judy are engaged! That's great. I wonder what he went through to make the decision.
So many thoughts come to me. Growing up, living, marriage, family, growing old, death. Land. Paying Mom and Diane and Bob for my overdue loan.
April 24, 1992.
I've decided to evict the aquaculture noes from this journal. It hasn't been an easy decision. But most decisions made in one minute aren't. What the hell, right? Too much energy goes into work. More than the percent that it needs. Then to come home and write about the minutiae in detail. Makes me sick thinking about it.
April rain showers are patting the roof over my head. The rain feels soft and warm. Spring is here. Thank you, God. You are splendid. Through so many facets I see your work.
Yesterday, after the oysters spawned, I watched the fertilized eggs divide. I am fortunate to witness the process of life in such an obvious way. Today I watched oyster larvae swimming across the lake of salt water under the microscope. Two weeks ago these swimming larvae were a single cell, then tow, then four.
Spring is the time to bask in the splendor of life, birth and living. Examples abound as I walk, ride and drive.
I sat in the front porch for a few minutes drinking spiked Coffee in the dark lightness or light darkness. The rain dropped around. On the roof, on the oaks, cedars, street and cars parked in the driveway.
I felt attached to this place. The big oak tree in front of the porch that I climb to get up on the roof. The two cedar trees growing close to each other out near the road. One is shorter than the other, but they must be over 15 to 20 feet tall. I thought about one species' relationship to another. I thought about that at work today too. At work this thought came to me as I was picking sea grapes off oysters in the broodstock tank. I picked them of just as I picked the quarter decks ("Crepidula fornicate") off the scallops yesterday.
I'm getting sleepy now, but I don't want to lose my thoughts of interspecies relationships.
Last day of April 1992.
ReplyDeleteBad night sleep last night. I was cold but didn't realize it. Kept waking up and feeling tired. Tried to jerk off but didn't feel like it. Must be age creeping up on me. Internal editor is still at work as I write, correcting spelling, blah, blah. This pen is running low on ink. I shouldn't complain since I've had it since 1985-86 for copying my notes into a good notebook (I memorized Southampton College class notes by recopying them into notebooks using colored pens.) Sometimes that seems so long ago and other times it feels like yesterday. I want to leave here and go far away. Become some other organism. A plant or maybe a scallop. Life would be short. It's funny how a part of me complains about life and another part loves life so. It's hard to believe they're both me. Today the miserable me is on the scene. I think it is so because of poor sleep. Time to go to bed.
May Day 1992.
ReplyDeleteA sharp pencil awaits my thoughts, a buzz with life. I'm hit with I's telling me to cast off this clutter I've accumulated recently and over time. Get rid of books lining the book shelf and covering my desk. Give away or sell unnecessary items. My soul has become trapped by the trappings of life. I envision austere simplicity aboard a 30' fiberglass sloop. I sail along the coast. Work here and there. Learn skills that enable me to make a living from gathering and hunting for food. And from fixing mechanical or not so mechanical items. Alone. I'll stay here until my loans are paid off. Gradually ridding myself of all the unnecessary clutter. Utilitarian simplicity will be my modus operandi. All the things I've acquired from Mom will be given away. One small box for mementos will be my family and friend album. All the letters, pictures, books, articles, magazines will be voided.
"To be a philosopher is not merely to have subtle thoughts, nor even to found a school, but so to love wisdom as to live accordingly to it's dictates, a life of simplicity, independence, magnanimity, and trust." Henry David Thoreau.
I come alive as I imagine life with a minimum of stuff. When I go to Mom's I loose sight. Have lost sight. I see the things of my childhood and cling to them desperately as if they are my childhood and will keep me from growing old. I volunteer to take this and that and this pile and that. Then my thoughts way my spirit becomes heavy and serious because I'm surrounded by things that are packed away in closets and in boxes in the basement for use when someday I start living. My spirit says forget life until you start living. Now I think about when I will start living. Missing the fact that I'm living every day. I rush from home t o work. The saving grace is the interjection of the bike ride. Then I rush from work to home. Busily occupying myself at all times. I make little time to speak with new people who cross my path. My spirit is fading away. My thoughts are all the time centered around saving money, paying for loans. Magnanimity fail me, simplicity has been allowed to escape, I'm dependent on work, friends and family to support me. Shed the adornments of our modern life-skin. Let wisdom lighten and illuminate your journey.
May 24, 1994 will be the day I depart. Age 30. A good age to begin a travel. Far enough off that I can be lightening my material load and strengthening or gaining knowledge of stars, sailing, foraging, engine repair, motor repair. Lately I've felt that my life is not my own. No one's life really is their own.
Evening May 1st, 1992.
ReplyDeleteI'm restless but don't know why. Sometimes I think something's a bit fucked up in my head. I felt melancholy as I drove home from work today. Why should I though, it's Friday, payday and all. I have great friends and family and a job that I enjoy. So what's my problem? Why am I always dreaming up something wrong? I feel unsettled, and I still lack confidence. I can't talk to anyone because no one really would want to hear it. What would I say anyway other than I don't know what's got me feeling this way.
The boat idea is appealing because it's running away. Not having to face me in everyday life which I make so ho hum because I don't have any money to do things which would make it unho hum. Maybe I'm just tired and this cold coming on is clouding my vision, making me dour, pessimistic and generally grumpy. Could be....Read "Watership (Down.)"
May 3, 1992.
ReplyDeleteThe sun comes up over here. I look out of the window by the bed I'm sleeping in. Out across a field of green grasses, some low hills and far off where the sky meets land the horizon is a range of mountains. (Sketch of the scene through the window in green pencil.)
I want to get up and take a walk, but I also want to lay here, write and thinks about this beautiful morning. The sky is a light robin's egg shade blue. I hear birds outside twittering. It's Spring here too. Seeing and hearing these sights and sounds make me feel joy. But when my mind turns inward to George (Seff in Rochester, NY), who's home I'm staying at, I feel some sadness. He and his wife LouAnne have separated. They restored this farm house that I'm in. You can see her touches, what I assume, in the curtains, linens, wallpaper. Hang on, you don't know that. You don't really even know LouAnne - except for the couple times you've seen her for a few minutes. So why turn to melancholy? Enjoy the morning as it is. Don't let the mind saga come in and get you blue.
On our way to the land now. Warm sunshine coming in through the van windows as we head East on the Thruway. Farm fields lie of to each side of the road. Now the road is passing through the Montezuma National Wildlife Refuge. A hawk sits in a tree beside the road. A truck in front of us and one behind have me thinking of Terry. I have to ask him if he remembers asking me to name three types of trailers as we travelled from D.C to Florida our first year back in the U.S.
May 10, 1992.
ReplyDeleteAlmost squared away w/ paying for Everglades trip. Still owe Diane 2 paddles, Gary his fixed binoculars and one thirty dollar medical bill. It'll be good to put that behind me. Not that I'll forget it. One small, seemingly simple decision can lead to grief, loss and anguish.
I see now, more than ever, that haste and speediness lead me nowhere. Plus, losing sight of the principal objective for lesser insignificant pursuits is a flaw running through my character from home to work-life.
At work I talk about fixing up the aquarium and get angry when John talks to Jeff about doing any work on it. Now the aquarium sits not having progressed towards having fish in it.
At home I'm frustrated w/ Jenn and in part w/ Gary because I feel like I'm buying more than my share of food. Then the bills for electric come that top $300. I try to save money to pay my loan to Diane, Bob and Mom (for the land) but seem to get nowhere because everything demands money. My car is having problems. I fix that $300.00 later something else is fucking up. Me namely.
Thoreau's words about the majority of people living lives of quiet desperation is perfect for me, except I, I'm not so quiet.
Last weekend when we stopped by the land, I's came to me and said that it would be good to move there when my bills are paid. Live simply for one year. Build a small cabin.
I look around at this cluttered room of mine and laugh. Where has the simplicity gone? I think of oyster larvae that I've seen under the microscope. They have little colonies of bacteria growing all over them and are motionless possibly dead. If I were to try and pack all my belongings onto my back I'd be dead or motionless too.
Really, I've never been simple as far as possessions go. Even when I considered myself simple it was really farce. My belongings were stored at Mom and Dad's. If I believed in simplicity the first thing I'd do is sell "Seasoned."
All those things serve only to make me a wretched oaf. Or maybe it's me and I blame my wretchedness on those things.
3:30 a.m. Monday, May 11, 1992.
ReplyDeleteI lay in my bed tossing and turning. Greg (Seff) is downstairs on the pull-out couch snoring like there's no tomorrow. How the hell can one person make so much goddam noise with their nose in the middle of the night?
What the hell do you do, wake him up? "HEY, GREG, WAKE UP AND STOP THAT DAMN SNORING." (I didn't wake him up.)
An idea has struck me hard. So hard that I went downstairs, got Jenn's wetsuit and dive gloves plus my fins and mask. The time for reconnoitering the shore at Towd Point for shellfish. Sunrise isn't too far off. It's calm. The beginning of empowerment. Next step will be to pick up a commercial (shellfishing) license. Depending on what that entails. I'll get a nautical chart for Southampton Town, mark off the closed areas and get to work.
My thoughts are getting desperate as I lay here sleep interrupted by too much beer, a trip to the head and then Greg's crescendo of snoring, lull and crescendo.
I've been so frustrated lately. Money is the culprit. I'm feeling against the wall with upcoming expenses, trip to N.C. Graduation present, loans to Mom and D &B, work on the car, school loans, utilities, bills. They were making me feel suicidal. Crazy thoughts. No obligations are worth that. They'll just have to wait. It will all work out. Don't let these petty, trivial matters become boggey men that swipe at you in the night. Life is just too goddam short to get bent out of shape because I bought bread and peanut butter and jelly two weeks in a row or because Jenn used the spaghetti I bought to make a meal this week for her meal on Saturday. Get real. What's a couple buck anyway? It sure as hell isn't worth an ulcer.
And another thing, all this stupid self-restraint when it comes to Deli treats on the way to work, or even lunch from a Deli. Life is too short you knuckle-head. Why don't you ask that Girl at the Country Deli out for a movie on Thursday? It's like I'm living in this shell, so afraid to come out and experience anything. Hot, cold, anger, restraint, joy, fear.
I think If I were to ask the girl at the Deli out I'd say: "You know I come in here every once in a while and you seem so animated and happy to be doing what you're doing. I like that and I was wondering if I could see what you're like outside of this place. Would you want to go for a walk on he beach some evening?" Yes. "Okay, that's what I wanted to hear." No. "Well, that's okay. I just hope my asking doesn't make you feel uncomfortable."
It's funny to think back, way back, to when I dated Barb. I didn't communicate with her very well at all. I wasn't too in touch with my feelings. Now I'm not so different really. Gary's a great friend, but sometimes I wish we hadn't gotten to be such good friends. But then sometimes I blame to(o) much of "my stuff" on that friendship. Really the friendship itself is a good thing. It's helped me to overcome some of my less desirable attributes. Well, maybe not overcome, but at least notice.
Sunrise can't be too far away if the clouds have left the sky. What about the idea of equilibrium? No motion is made until a body is out of equilibrium. Bills for me are that unbalancing that tip me from the plane. My intellect is what usually deadens the impact. New motions are not used to adjust to the disequilibrium. That is life, isn't it?
May 23rd, 1992.
ReplyDeleteNow I sit out behind the house and green leaves absorb the view of the house through the woods. A squirrel makes his way across the yard halting every ten feet, sitting up, then moving on. Pollen, insects, spider threads pass between me and he morning light. I hear birds calling, twittering, singing. I think I hear a Robin song, but the other notes and melodies are unrecognizable and alas the music makers themselves are obscured by the tender, but recently full leaves of late Spring. Further off I hear the movement of cars on Noyack Road to the north. To the southeast the occasional beeping of a dump vehicle as it goes about its business of moving garbage, fill and so-called recyclables.
"All That is Not Given is Lost."
All: love, money, happiness, joy, friendship, trust, time, faithfulness, sincerity, compassion, honesty, hate, anger, fear, depression, gloom, anxiety, confidence, jealousy, envy.
It is wise no to give some of the ALL so that they will be lost.
June 12, 1992.
ReplyDeleteCedar Beach - North of Jessup's Neck.
Camping on "Seasoned" - Noticing what look like juvenile lady crabs ~3/4 to 1" across the carapace swimming near the surface of the water.
Blue ink pen sketch of Gary sitting in the cockpit of "Seasoned" opposite me with lantern hanging from the boom.
On opposite page: Blue ink outline of Boris' head.
Sunday morning in July at Mom's house in Etters.
ReplyDeleteHazy and humid here but right now the air feels comfortable as I sit on a step under the porch. Cardinals, Blue Jays, I think, are calling. Unamed songs and callings are bouncing around the locust trees and from the fence row of trees onteh other side of the house. The sun is shinning across the porch. It's light feels friendly and soft. I'm thinking thoughts of a walk.
When I was driving here on Friday night I let my mind daydream about the sailing idea. The ideas was born from an overnight sailing trip to Cedar Beach aboard "Seasoned" last weekend. The sailing idea is a journey on the Intercoastal Waterway from it's northernmost point in Maine to its Southernmost point in Florida aboard the lovely sloop, "Seasoned." The trip would be a journey of the Eastern coast and would e the book I want to write.
It amazes me that books I'm reading produce I's in me that speak up, but once I'm on to another book other I's speak up and the former I's die down. Right now I'm reading "Small Craft Advisory." Because the writer talks about himself and other writers and wooden boats I am enamored. When I read "The Gift of Good Land" I was ready to find an Amish farm or write to Wendell Berry or Wes Jackson and ask for permission to work at their place so that I could study, first hand, sustainable agriculture methods.
I wonder about comfort levels and how the maintenance of them results in a loss of experienc or an experience less in one's control. For example, Mr. Ruben talks about his experiences with boats, power and sail. The uniting principle with all his boats, as it appears to me, except the first one he build as a kid for paddling in the tidal creeks and marshes in front of his family's house in Charleston, was thay they had motors of a size greater than the small outboard. And it seems that primarily the problems wih his obats came in the form of engine troubles.
More and more I think that scale has everything to do with what you experience. I am leaning more toward smallness because it is more accessible to my means. But I wonder what the limitations of smallness are.
Obviously boats are on my mind. It's with these that I'll begin. A small boat can't be sailed across the ocean. But through bays and waterways; surely they can't be too dangerous if one stayed relatively close to the shore and kept a wary eye out for the weather.
The next two pages are "Selfie" sketches of my torso, groin and legs...complete with erect penis. (Had to flip by these drawings rather quickly while I'm here at Oxon-Hill library putting this on-line. Don't want ot offend anyone. Not like they haven't seen it before. Whatever.)
ReplyDeleteI've nevere drawn pictures on bathroom walls.
Drawing my penis gave me an erection. I don't know what life would be like without a penis. I guess I could get by without one, but not voluntarily. I like the ay it swells from a little bulbous protrusion in the valley of my legs origins to a rigig silo, stiff and towering over the terrain below. My sensitive hand feels hard smoothness as it encircles the shaft. Index finger and thumb encircle meeting on opposite side adn lead the trip up to the tip fo the head. The remaining three fingers encircling same direction as the index caress and fondle my hair covered testicles as my hand moves to the base of my penis. Friction of skin to skin. The skin on my penis slides toward the head with my pass to the head and toward the testicles on my movement to the base. My hairs feel like they're standing on end sensing all stimuli. Every cell in my body seems fixed and in tune with the motion of my right hand. My muscles are quivering.
The edge can come quickly. One motion too many and you are beyond it. But the edge pulls you toward it.
I've
August 13, 1992
ReplyDeleteI think something's happening inside me. It's 12:15 a.m. and I can't stop thinking about Ilise. Gary mentioned that she broke up with her old boyfriend. Now all these thoughts are running through my head about her: sending her flowers along with a poem. Quitting my job and becoming a teacher so tha we can move to a "real" middle-America kiind of place, raise a family. It's been over seven years since I dated Barb. I think my head is screwed on a little tighter since then. I'm amazed by all the thoughts that are flooding into my head about Ilise. I laugh to myself about how ideas, emotions and feelings blow across me like a cat's paw across a lake. How will I feel about this once I wake up tomorrow morning? Will I be able to sleep tonight? Tomorrow morning will be a continuation of tonight. I know it. I am in dreamland.
I had dinner with Rick and Maud tonight. It makes me sad sometimes when I see them because it seems like they 're not listening to each other. I wonder, does that happen to all people who get married? Will it happen to Ilise and me? No. Over my dead body.
What makes you think that Ilise'll have any interest in poor, skinny, hairy ole Craig Hassler? I'm compassionate, caring, sensitive and I've had lots of time to reflect on how I should've treated Barb. My head's much clearer abut some things with seven years. Granted I don't have all the answers. I hardly even know what most of the questions are. I feel more comfortable with myself as I grow older. Honesty about myself and about how I view life and experiences are probably the most important thouoghts that I can keep in my head as I approach this relationship. Have fun, be imaginative, creative, and present at every moment.
Dear Ilise,
I have a pictrue in my mind of you and I swimming in the salt water of Gardiner's Bay, our first swimming stop on Sheler Island. The sky was clear blue, the sun overhead, the water afternoon blue.
Sometimes I daydream about getting in a kayak that I bult myself and paddling the Intracoastal Waterway from New England to the Carolinas. Along the way I'd explore coves and uninhabited beaches, sing sea songs, catch blue-claw crabs, sketch rough and scratchy drawings of the characters and scenes along the way and scribble words on pages to describe what the rough sketches are showing.
Sunday, 8-19-92.
ReplyDeleteI don't think I'll ad the last part of that letter. The least thing Ilise wants to hear about is another dreamer's story. I still like the idea of Ilise and me. We have common interests: camping, biking, boating. She's a great friend. I like the way when we go for a walk and sometimes she'll put her arm through mine or hold my hand. She seem so open. I like the way when she wants something, or sets herself a goal, she goes straight for it.
My first weekend off in three weeks. I almost went to work this afternoon because it was the second day of a rainy weekend and more because I wanted to get at least one raft completed so we could start thinning the clams in the upwellers (into it in the field). All I can think about at times is work. I love it. It seems crazy to be so into my work.
Ink sketch of one valve of a bay scallop w/ shadow.
Driving home from "Unforgiven" my mind draws a blank on what to have for dinner. Coming into the house, my mind gets panicky about what to do on this rainy evening. I'm on the go to work. Now that I have free time I see my at home, free character has atrophied. Now I sit listening to Sade and writing these words. The rain is heavier now. I hear it on the leaves, dripping on the windows. My nerves are tingling still from the coffee at the pancake breakfast.
Thursday, 8-20-1992.
ReplyDeleteInk sketch of small, brass sailboat and African container on my windowsill.
Sometimes I think I should throw this and all my other journals out. I feel confused right now. My stomach feels twisted and knotted. Conflicting emotions are in my heart and I don't know how to deal with them.
I'm glad that Gary called Sandy, and that she's coming to visit over Labor Day weekend. I see that maybe my tossing and turning last week over Ilise was more a reaction to Gary's getting closer to calling Sandy than my genuine interest in Ilise. Childish response, but what good does judging it do? No, now I've just got to feel these emotions, push through them and come out on the other side.
The fortune cookie I opened tonight said something about experiencing enlightenment in the not too distant future. I laugh at how I think all the fortune cookies I read are so on the mark for me.
We've talked about the future together. My response was never very enthusiastic or up beat. I was always seeing the pitfalls of two men spending their life together. Whay would my friends and family think ad nauseum? What would complete strangers or people who work in the bakery think who see us every Sunday morning? Well, I don't have to worry about that anymore. Here's another example of how I've totally missed the point. The point is, or was, that we were great friends, and still are. The cynical side of me sees that gradually as Sandy takes a bigger role in Gary's life, my role will lessen. It's sad to feel your role slipping from another's heart. It's no one's fault buy my own though.
Another enlightening point of this experience is that I've been feeling oh so independent but I failed to notice how much I'm dependent on Gary for advice, freindship, solace, companionship, love, attention. I've come to believe the front that I've put up that I don't need these things from anyone, but all along I've been getting them from Gary.
I wish I could make sense of this. Right now all I feel are these emotions hitting me. It's a crazy week.
September 5, 1992.
ReplyDeleteI don't know why I keep coming back to write in here. One reason might be that it soothes me to write. Yesterday, standing on the sand by the launching ramp in Napeague, waiting for John to come, I thought that there's no need to rush into finding a lover. What I thought was that maybe I'm just the kind of person who doesn't need a lover. That sounded pretty good to me. Sometimes too much thinking is not so good.
It's six o'clock. The September sun is still sleeping. Summer's end is near. In Skunk's Hole. The Tern's flock looks bigger. Like they're all congregating. Young, middle-aged, and old fattening up on the fat fish so plentiful in the shallow waters of Napeague.
I'm teetering on the edge of going home today or sticking it out through a portion of Sandy and Chris' (Ilise's 17 year-old friend) visit this afternoon and tonight. I think I'll stick it out. No good running away from this thing that I need to meet squarely in the face. This problem I'm experiencing is most assuredly one of my making and as such must be confronted face to face instead of face to back.
Nov. 2, 1992.
ReplyDeleteJenn's gone. Gary and I moved from Southampton to East Hampton - Kim LaCarubba/Shaw's old house. A stormy fall is passing. Gary and Sandy's relationship started off strong. But since October they haven't been able to get together and we've fallen back into old patterns. It''s confusing now. When Gary went to Boston to visit Sandy I went to a party at Laura's (Smith). We were gtting together a couple times a week. Talking, dining, chatting. Gary broke his wrist in a fall at work & Sandy and he weren't getting together even though he wrote and sent flowers. Then he started getting depressed because he couldn't work, wasn't getting full pay.
Nov 14th, 1992.
ReplyDeleteCatskills straight ahead. Chris Zaloga and I are driving to Indian Lake to visit Bernie (Bernardo Estupenian, also graduate of Southampton College) and Barbara (his wife) - a long overdue trip. They've invited us many times since last fall. I figured I couldn't blow them off again even if Gary was. No time like the present to do the things I've talked about. Last Sunday I sailed with Scott (McAskill), Lisa (Hanscome-McAskill), Matta (their son(, Tsunami (dog), Moby and Ahab (cats) from Sag Harbor to Manhasset (north shore of Long Island). Then Monday we motored from Manhasset through Hell Gate down the East River and along the coast of NJ, passed Atlantic City glowing in the midnight moonlight as we played cribbage. Got into Cape May Inlet at about 3 a.m. Tuesday we gased up and took on water then headed out and around Cape May. Into the Delaware Bay. Anchored behind a breakwater that was marked by two unlit buoys in the channel near Reedy Island. The entrance through the breakwater was unlit, I think, but we had a spotligth to pick them up. Went to bed ~ 11:00 Tuesday night. Moon fuul but covered by clouds. Wednesday we headed further up the Delaware Bay into the Chesapeake and Delaware canal. Stopped in Chesapeake City for lunch at the tap room. Luckily I could catch a ride up to Wilmington, DE from an old guy named Hank who picked up our lines when we moved to deeper water in Chesapeake City. That was a great trip!
"When Hesus said ast and ye shall receive, I don't think He meant us to Pray 'Lord, spare my child,' or 'Make it rain for the crops,' or 'Don't let my bizness fail.' I don't even think Jesus meant us to ast for -"
ReplyDelete"- for a house or a piano?" She put her hand on his open palm. He laughed, and lifted her hand and kissed it.
"Naw, and not even for a husband or any other sech favor. The Lord's Prayer does say, 'Give us this day our daily bread,' but thet's teh only dang thang Jeusus ast for in the whole prayer that yu can tetch. They ain't nothin' in the Lord's Prayer says ' make me well.' I'm tempted to pray that right now, hurtin' like I am. But I don't think Jesus mean us to think we can git healed jest by beggin' for it." Grandpa laughed kind of rueful. "God made us so we want to stay alive. He put healin' power in our bodies. We don't have to beg Him to save us. All we got to do is accept bein' sick, do what Doc says, and trust that God wants us to git well if'n we can."
Miss Love broke in, "In the Bible, Jesus only healed the people who asked Him to and believed He could. If Jesus coud heal, can't God? If we pray and have faith?"
"Well'm, faith ain't no majic wand or money-back gar'ntee, either one. Hit's jest a way a-livin'. Hit means you don't worry th'ew the days. Hit means you go'n be holdin' on to God in good or bad times, and you accept whatever happens. Hit means you respect life like it is - like God made it- even when it ain't what you'd ordered from the wholesale house. Faith don't mean the lord is go'n make lions lay down with lambs jest cause you ast him to, or mke fire not burn. Some folks, when they pray to git well and don't git better, they say God let'm down. But I say thet warn't even what Jesus was a-talkn' bout. When Jesus said ast and you'll git it, He was givin' a gar'ntee a-spiritual healin,' not body healin.a' He was sayin' thet if'n you git beat down - scairt to death you cain't do waht you got to, or scairt you go'n die, or sccairt folks won't like you - why, all you got to do is put your hand in God's and He'll lift you up. I know it for a fact, Love, I can pray, 'Lord, hep me not be scairt,' and I don't know how, but it's liek a eraser wipes the fears away. And I found out long time ago, when I look on what I got to stand as a dang hardship or a burden, it seems too heavy to carry. But when I look on the same dang thang as a challenge, why standin' it or acceptin' it is like you done entered a contest. Hit even gits excitin', waitin' to see how everthang's go'n turn out.
Grandpa stopped to move a little and his face twised with pain - But he went on. "Jesus meant us to ask God to hep us tand the pain, not beg Him to take the pain away. We can ast for comfort and hope adn patience and courage, and to be gracious when thangs ain't goin' our way, and we'll git what we ast for. They ain't no guarantee that we ain't go'n have troubles and ain't go'n die. but shoe as frogs croak and cows bellow, God'll forgive us if'n we as Him to."
"Cold Sassy Tree" Olive Ann Burns, pp:362-364.
November 29, 1992.
ReplyDeleteVacation from before Thanksgiving till January 4th. Grandma Hassler died early Sunday morning, now almost one week ago. Mom told me she was going downhill steadily since she had to be restrained. Independence. Three weeks ago she fell out of bed, cracked her hip and fractured her nose on the hard clean floors below her bed. I think she was headed to the bathroom. After she came back they put the sides up on her bed. She wiggled her way out of the end of the bed and fell again. This time she had to have stitches. Next time she got back to her "own" bed she had to be restrained.
Well, wouldn't you know. She got out of it again. This time, though, she didn't fall to the ground...she flew away. I hope she's happy now.
Aunt Doris was saying that Grandma's lucky. "At least now she knows what's ahead of her. The rest of us still have life to worry about."
When I heard the phone ringing I lay in the darkness listening. It wouldn't stop. I knew it wouldn't go away. It wasn't a dream. It rang and rang. I heard Mom get up and answer. Sometimes it bugs me when people say they knew...I knew, but if I didn't answer maybe it would go away. It didn't go away. Grandma went away.
Wednesday, December 3, 1992.
ReplyDeleteSmall talk and giggles from the big woman with black hair and cane sitting behind me and across the aisle. her voice is big and round. Caroline, my seat-mate, thinkgs the big woman is afraid of quiet. I think so too. Especially the way she crinkled her bag of whatever last night.
Winter sky. Farm fields, yellow, brown, and spots of green as we cross Ohio on our way to Chicago. Travel trailer factory, small towns zip by. There's no stopping this train, except another derailed freight train.
Caroline spent three years in Mali working for the Peace Corps. She showed me some pictures. I asked questions. She speaks thoughtfully and clearly. I thought I could listen to her explain life in Mali all the way to Chicago. She's been out a month now.
Walking down the aisle, looking at people to share a ride to Chicago with, Caroline stood out. Her sun-bleached hair was tied in a large braid down her back with unruly strands sticking out around her brow. I passed her in Union Station while I was checking out the location of the gate. How fortunate to be sharing a seat with her. She tells great stories about her accomplishments in getting Malians to start their own businesses or obtain loans from other organizations. Fighting back stereotypes that would be so easy to accept yet would've set the tone for the rest of her time in Dawentza (sp?). What a great person to talk to. She exudes calm and a sense of wisdom about herself and other peoples. Her thoughts and words are coherent, imaginative and so perfectly descriptive. My rough, unorganized and incomplete speech patterns are embarassing me again!
Blue ink sketch of Caroline's backpack.
Now I'm on teh train to Grand Junction. The California Zephyr is beginning it's slow lurching motion out of the station. Caroline and I walked to Mashall Field's to pick up some candy for her brother-in-law's Christmas stocking. After running the gauntlet through cologne-spraying women in the perfume section we found the escalator down to the fine chocolate's section.
ReplyDeleteBack out to the streets and down to the park and bulkheading to check out the chalky blue waters of vast Lake Michigan. A search for food began after a failed attempt at culture in Chicago's School of Fine Art. I didn't want to pay $6.00 to get in either. I think our time was better spent walking up and down the streets looking for a place to eat lunch. About 1:30 we happened on to what we were looking for. A diner-type restaurant. It was good to get out of the cold and unthaw around a cup of coffee and a bowl of onion soup. When she gave me her address after we ate I didn't really look at it. Now I see that it's Denver.
Carolyn Van Schaik
959 South Race
Denver, CO 80209.
Is this a temporary address? I thought she was headed on to California. She's on her way to meet a rancher from Northern Nebraska that's looking for soemone to do ranch work and cook for his four kids. Carolyn used to work on the sloop, "Clearwater" as a cook and third-mate. Around the same time she worked for a women's cooperative bakery in D.C. I think it's the one I sometimes passed when I'd ride from the GSA yard to the Smithsonian. I owe her some money for the locker. I think I'll go look for her to pay her back.
Dec 4th, 1992.
ReplyDeleteLand ideas have rustled me up out of my sleep A good night's sleep! After talking to Carolyn, I'm inspired to move to the land once I've paid it off along with my student loans. I'm thinking about apple trees, nut trees, sugar mapling and berries as cash crops along with honey from hives. Instead of clearing a whole broad area and then replanting w/ apple and nut trees, I figure that acre patches could be cleared or maybe even 1/2 acre patches. Then apple trees could be interplanted with nut trees and at the edge of the clearing culd be planted with raspberries or blackberries. Perhaps the berries could be planted as an understory to the nut and apple trees. Then each clearing would have one or two resident hives; more or less depending on what is found through research on hives.
As I'm paying of debts in the next year and a half, I can be doing research into:
1. Apples,
2. Nuts,
3. Maple sugaring,
4. Bee keeping,
5. Berry growing.
I think the beauty of clearing small areas is that it would reduce the effects of soil erosion, it would give a greater woodland "edge" therby inceasing the species diversity of the land.
Questions:
I. Apples:
1. Range of varieties.
2. How to?
3. Dwarf varieties (Mr Halsey)
4. How long from planting to production of apples?
5. Common problems ie. insects, parasites, viruses.
6. Storing.
7. Talk to people who grow.
8. When does pollentation occur adn how?
9. Full size.
II. Nuts - can these be interplanted w/ apples?
1. Range of species.
2. How long from planting to production?
3. Processign: ie. nut butters.
4. Problems.
5. Talk to people who grow.
6. Any nut trees already on the land?
7. Pollenation occurs when? by whom?
8. Ultimate size.
III. Maple Sugar and Syrup - this should be idea first researched since trees are already in place.
1. How to harvest sap and process?
2. What kinds of maples and size?
3. Identify maples on the land.
4. How to build a sugar shack?
5. How much syrup can be harvested/tree?
Iv. Beekeeping
1. How to build hives?
2. When to harvest honey?
3. How to keep bees and keep them happy?
4. Can they be kept in a climate as cool as the land?
V. Berries - Blackberries, raspberries, blueberries
1. Light requirements?
2. Range?
December 6, 1992.
ReplyDeleteYesterday, Terry, Lucky and I took a drive up to Grand Mesa. Snow clouds overhung the tops of the Mesa. Visibility was poor. We pulled off near a cutoff where other cars and trucks were parked. Men and women wer taking camping gear out of their vehicles and heading to the side of a hill where snow had drifted to what looked like three or four feet deep. Most were using ice shovels to dig into the snow. We skiied past them on the road and then made our tur on to the cutoff. The snow was falling steadily all the while and no tracks lay ahead of us as we broke a ski trail through the light, fluffy snow. Lucky was up to his chest in snow. My skis would glide for a few fleeting seconds on the snow then sink down a deep twelve inches. I could hear and feel my heart beating rapidly in my chest as I tried to move quickly. It felt good. Terry and I, Lucky too, traded places breaking the trail. We rounded a corner and came to what looked like a lake frozen solid and covered with snow.
After a rest and some hot chocolate we headed out on what we thought was the trail then found that it wasn't. Turned back and started following arrows. Then the arrows stopped and the trail seemed to stop to. We turned around and made for the truck. Lucky looked tired - a good exercise for two out of shape brothers.
Ink sketch looking out of the window in the room I stayed in at Judy and Terry's.. Field, a large tree and mountains in the background.
December 10th, 1992.
ReplyDeleteThe last two night I've looked for the lunar eclipse. The moon was bright and full shining down through light clouds. No eclipse.
From my loft room i sit and write, occasionally looking up to check on the sun's progress. It's still behind the mesa.
I bought film yesterday. Today, maybe we can start getting some pictures. Tomorrow I go to school with Judy. I'll be sitting in on some of her classes and on some of the Science teacher's classes.
In the morning now, before I venture out of my sleeping bag my thoughts roll around in my head.
I think about Laura and the dinner story at Chinda's with Gary and Larry. Somehow I'm stuck about writing to her. On one hand I didn't agree at all with what she ws saying, but then I couldn't or didn't feel right arguing against her when Larry and Gary were slamming her. Awkwardness overwhelms me. Passivity overwhelms me. I have no romantic interest in her any more. That as true before dinner.
December 13, 1992.
ReplyDeleteDecember 13, 1992.
TRYING TO PLEASE OTHERS.
TRYING NOT TO DISPLEASE OTHERS.
12/14/1992
30 minute writing (Inspired by reading "Writing Down the Bones.)
Trying to go to the first thoughts that are in my head. I've got gas. My farts smell. That's it. Now the urge comes to want to read what I've written already. The thought about my old song "Not knowing what to do because I'm so in love with you." My thoughts are stale and stupid. People don't like me. My vibes aren't good for others because I try too hard to be liked. Don't give a fuck about what others want from you and they'll flock to you. Here I am constantly wanting to reread what I've written but I keep on writing even if it's the same old thought about not reading what I've written until the end of "time." I liked our cross-country excursion/trek around the land that Charlie showed us yesterday. Robert, Terry, Lucky adn I skied along the fence line marking the Eastern boundary. The fence ended at Bull Creek again so we worked our way across adn up the hill on the opposite side. I lead our party until we took our skis off and started climbing the hill. I like leading. But I wonder if I'm a spoiled child needing to be first in line. Needing attention. I come across the spoiled-only child thing when I think about work. I don't know if I can go back to my job. The cavernousnes of the early months of the year with building projects and modifications make me nervous. I don't have a sense of myself and am without confidence. I don't know how to respond when people tell me that I should do things differently. I just do it. But then I resent the fact that I can't be left to do things my own way. I'm thinking now abouot how confused I am and was when Gary and Sandy started seeing each other. Even before they saw each other, that first weekend rendezvous our relationship was no longer existent in teh terms prior to his thoughts about getting together with Sandy. I was pretty angry and confused but then worked it out by getting together with Laura. My relationship with Laura was moving smoothly and Gary's relationship with Sand was keeping along, and not even that when he broke his wrist. I know he had a lot fo bad things happening to him all at once, but then when he started touching me again adn asking me to stay with him it really screwed me up. I was feeling pretty happy and in control of myself when I was seeing Laura and that was after a mourning period for Gary. Then to have him turn aruond like he did sent me for a spin. I'm mad at myself for giving in. I'm frustrated now with the way the situation turned out. I feel like a wimp for loosing touch with Laura when Gary started resuming interest. I'm a spineless wonder because I didn't take a good humored approach to the situation and rebuff him. Now I really don't want to go back. But on the oher hand I know I've got to go back and face these situations. It's a great life. If I could just remember the sense of humor at all times.
12/15/1992
ReplyDelete20 minute writing
Honey and a chunk of lemon in hot water from my morning hot drink. It feels good on my throat. The virus or whatever that's latched on to me is not dragging me down too much. My nerves are jumpy this morning. Why? Morning thoughts as I lay in bed. Work thoughts, how to go back to Long Island thoughts. Mostly how to go back to work and get along with Tom (Dornhoffer, John's age, friend and neighbor, replacement for Sue) and John. Of course I'm not without my faults, but I can only see theirs right now. The fact that I'm younger than they are therefore they're wiser. Well, I'm creating my own problems thinking about all this crap while I'm away from it. I go away and drag all my shit along like I've got to go to work today or see Gary today. It's crazy maybe I'll die between now and then and all this worry'll be for naught. I thought about what Grandpa in "Cold Sassy Tree" was saying to Miss Love Simpson on his death bed about praying to God for material things. And how all Jesus meant by "ask and ye' shall receive" was that you can ask Jesus or God for strength in dealing with what you've got ahead of you. So I thought about that and started doing my own prayer but then stopped becasue I felt like a hypocrite asking for help from God since I don't really ever think of God when I'm happy. Plus not being baptized, christened and whatever else annointments I doubted whether it would be of any use to pray. So now Terry's finished his work on his thesis for this morning and is sitting at the table organizing his printed and completed papers. I think I should stop writing but then I've only been at this for fifteen minutes and that's five less than what I said I'd do. But I feel a little uncomfortable writing everything that pops into my head now because a wayward glance with Tery's eyes and he'd be able to see what I was writing. It's a funny thing. Because it's a lot how I live my lie. Afraid of letting myself out of this skin I've created for myself because I don't want people to see who I really am. I don't want to displease tehm with the fact of me being me. Whatever me is? So, I just try to do what others want me to do and be what they want me to be. Sometimes I think I'd like to be a bum scrounging around the streets of New York City. Getting my food out of dumpsters and begging for a living. At least my begging wouldn't be hidden behind a complicated of doing what othrs want me to do to get what I want. I'd be truely free. No one would have lofty expectatonsof a bum. Not that anyone has lofty expectations of me now. It's just that they want em to do what I'm told and I'm tired of doing what I'm told. We're all told we have freedom but then we have to have jobs, cars, wives, families. What if I don't want any of that crap? What if I want to be a hobo or a bum and see the country by foot, working at any job I could just ot get enough money for food? Better still, what if I just walked around the countryside just eating wild foods and getting clothes and shoes from the Salvation Army? I'd be free then.
LAND PAYMENT BREAKDOWN:
ReplyDeleteYEAR: TOTAL $16,000 D & B.$5,000 M.
12/89 YR1: $21,000: $3,200 + $1600; $1,000 + $500 = $6300 or $3150 each.
12/90 YR 2: $16,000: $3,200 + $1280; $1,000 + $400 = $5880 or $2940 each.
12/91 YR 3: $12,600: $3,200 + $960; $1,000 + $300 = $5460 or $2730 each.
12/92 YR 4: $8,400: $3,200 + $640; $1,000 + $200 = $5040 or $2520 each.
12/93 YR 5: $4,200: $3,200 + $320; $1,000 + $100 = $4620 or $2310 each.
12/16/1992
ReplyDelete20 Minute Writing Practice
Staying home today. Virus overtakes me and I can't sleep and can barely swallow. I draw a bathtub of hot water, gargle with salt water in a clear round glass. Lay in the tub with cup of lemon and honey tea sipping and thinking thoughts about baths. It feels so relaxing laying in a tub of hot water almost totally sumberged. Head, knees and tip of penis sticking into the air. Little, minute, bubbles form on my skin and flaot ot the surface. Must be the air in my pores. I breathe easier in the hot bath water. My throat feels smooth. I fart and large bubbles erupt on the surface with tthe smelly gas being released and inhailed through my nostrils. I hear rumblings in my stomach that's under water. My dried and writing handa look pale now, the skin looks dry and crackly. I sip hot apple cider now and it sooths but I can feel my head becoming isolated by something draining into it. The sky is turning blue now as the snow clouds lighten and drift apart. Today I feel good about going back to work. I'll have to work problems through at any job, so what? I want to read more, more, more books. I imagine my getting together with Gary up at the land for a couple days and think I know how things will go if we share a room.
I'm going back to the Gary as friend stance. I'll be cunning and humorous but I'm not going back to things as they were before I left. While the experience of being together is fantastic, enjoyable, exciting, once the sex part is over the fear of society comes in to play and we hide . I feel like I submit am submissive and God damn it I don't want that. But yet that's all I know. Before I realize what's going on I'm back into old patterns of doing what I think will make others happy. It's a routine that I've got to get myself out of. It happens with everyone I come in contact with. I think it's my reaction to a situation that I don't know how to handle so I fall back on to the very safe, tried and true approach of asking what others want and doing that. I guess it's a way of dealing with things that I feel I can't control. Instead of trying to take control of things I hem and haw and let others take control. Or I wait for others to give control which rarely seems to happen.
12/17/1992
ReplyDelete25 Minutes Fat Head til 9:15.
Thursday morning writing. The cold is ebbing. I slept well with the help of Tylenol tablets. My use of drugs increases. So what? I make all these stupid statements and then feel obliged to stick to them. Like sleeping on the floor. The last tow nights I've slept on a bed and I think I like it. I was struck on the idea that sleeping on the floor makes me simple because then I don't get used to the comfort of a mattress. But is that true? Am I simple? All I know is that one of the first times Laura was coming over for a visit, I was scrambling around the house cleaning and in the process I put together the two parts of foam from a couch that Chris gave me to make up what looked like a bed in my loft. I tried to sleep on those damn things that night just to prove to myself that I wasn't trying to create an image of "normalcy" for Laura, but they were so damn soft I think I ended up pushing them aside and making my usual nest out of blanket, sleeping bag, sheets and comforter. I was thinking a bit more this morning on how to maintain a ____ of heterosexual lifestyle. And now I wonder if Gary isn't probably thinking the same thing. I would gather that he is and maybe all my consternation and worry is for nothing. We'll go into the straight friendship thing again without any difficulty. I'm even feeling good about going back to work in a couple of weeks. Now I'm not sure what to say. I've dragged out some old material from the past two days, hashed around and here I am again. Wondering what I really want out of life. But I know what I want. I just let myself forget. I want to try livng on the land. No. I want to live on the land. First learn as much as I can about natural farming, maple sugaring, beekeeping. Then go there and do it. But to do it I need to have paid off the land and all other debts. Then I've got to have a little cash saved up so I can take care of taxes and incidental expenses. I want to do this but I've got to have more discipline in the way I spend my money. I fritter it away on presents, food, eating out, that I never seem to have any. I've got to adopt a more aggressive approach to this goal. Eating out once a month maybe. Or taking my first five hundred bucks a month and sendig it to Diane and Bob or Mom to pay my loan. I am mvoing along on this loan thing. But Damn it all not at all in the pace that I had targeted. Too many diversions come into paly. At least I let too many diversions come in to play. Whenever I get around consumer centers I loose some of this conviction and lose my money hand over fist. I'm also afraid of being labeled cheap, frugal, a spend thrift. Damn it to hell I've got to get over those inconsequential worries because that fear of not being liked will geek me from getting to the goal. Of course I shouldn't go overboard. But I don't see how making a goal of $500 a month to pay off land debts is so hard to keep. Considering that two years ago I was student teaching adn working 20 hrs a week at the hatchery. I wan't able to make land payments, but I was paying all my other bills: food, rent and utilities. So now why is it that I'm making probably three times as much, or maybe two and a half times as much and I'm still not up to date with land payments?
Monthly:
ReplyDeleteINCOME: $210 + $240 + $280 = $730(2) = $1,460
DEBTS:
Auto insurance = $60
Gas/oil change = $60
Telephone = $50
Electric = $50
Gas(propane) = $25
Oil = $25
Rent = $250
Food = $200
Entertainment (books, movies, cards, stamps) = $100
Student loans = $155
Land taxes = $30
Total = $1005
12/18/1992
ReplyDelete25 Minute Writing
So the first, or as close to it as possible of every month I'm going to shoot off a check for $500 clams to Mom or Daine and Bob. I've got it all figured. I even addressed an envelope for each month to Mom or D & B. As you can see above I've done my figuring on budget and "there you have it." To quote Grandma.
My head is full of mucous. I blow my nose every five minutes if not more frequently. Of course now my nostrils are red and chapped. This cold business sucks dick! Why me? Every year at about this time I manage to have a cold.
Tomorrow we're leaving Mesa to head to Boulder and Denver. So now what can I say? Terry and I had breakfast at the Wagon Wheel across the street this morning. I had french toast and one of Terry's platter-sized pancakes. I cleaned up the sheepshead skull for Judy's present while Terry organized his thesis papers. We took a walk on KE road up past Shirley's and then down ? road. A dog with three legs met us at the first corner. Halway along that leg a white dog that we had seen a couple days before when we ere looking for Meeker Tree Monument ran along the fence next to the road Many little birds (?) lifting from fence row to road which was covered with packed down snow. We wondered what they were after. At next corner horse and cows coralled and pigeons humming and whirring in trees above. I scratched the horse on its nose. I like the feel of horse hair. And I like the way that the (horses) move over to the fence when you walk by. It's as if they don't mind a little company, human company. Their eyes are huge and brown.
Last night at "The Best Christmas Pagent Ever" I got a little teared up. (Sentimental fool!) When after the kids had done their last song and Santa came to the door HO, HO, HOING. The kids on stage and in the audience were real surprised. As Santa worked the crowd on his way up to the stage he shook hands and sait whatever Santa says to little boys and girls along the way. He walked over to one little boy in the back of the audience and the kid reached over and hugged Santa with such an innocent look on his face. That's what made me tear up. What a great setting: families, fat, thin, handsome, ugly, cowboy hats, baseball caps all out to watch their kids in the Christmas play. Kids on stage acting out their parts sometimes forgetting a line or cue, sometimes audibly, sometimes in a whisper that no one could hear. Singers belting out "Silent Night" as if they wanted the walls to fall down. The audience laughing when they were supposed to and sometimes when they weren't. The band playing it's Christmas tunes in key, out ofkey ahead of or behind time. And the grande finale where the singers were so excited about the words that they finished a few bars ahead of the music! That is it man. What it's all about right here in Debeque, Colorado! Community. Nice.
12/21/1992
ReplyDelete20 MINUTE TIMED WRITING - Caffeine Blood.
Heading east on I-70, Illinois about 90 miles east of St. Louis. We drove till about 3:30 this morning then stayed at a Thrifty Inn. Got a few hours sleep and now we're back at it. Had dinner with John (went to Telecom School in Boulder w/ Terry) in or near Leavenworth, Kansas at Fannies. Last night ona coffee and M & M high thoughts about the land where rushng to me. OVERARCHING all was that I make this commitment to have it paid of by December 1993 then move on to it as soon as possible after that. If I say this out lout to friends and family it wll be done. Just sitting back adn letting everyone think that I might be coming or staying their way isn't going to cut it. It gives me a tentativeness with all my doings. This goal is good and it's mine. Maybe it'll only last till I run out of money, a month or maybe two or maybe I'll be able t work out the glitches and see through my green grass and keep on going. At least I will have tried.
After thinking about paying off the land and claiming my goal, I thought about what I'd have to do to accomplish the former. A change of attitude about spending money. I've got to be focused on this aspect at all times. This is good practice because I'll have to continue this on the land. I can't let my guard down! The next thoughts are practical concerning how will I live, what will I do to make money for those items that I will have to spend cash for. While the Nearings talked at length about the permanence of stone. I think the first building will be a log cabin. It should be much quicker to build than a stone house. So I think! A good first building project. And the log cabin will always be used as an out building or even a place where visitors could stay provided I end up being more than a visitor and build a stone house. The thoughts of building my own place excited me and got me thinking about building permits, and surveying . That I can find out about this next weekend when I meet Gary up at the land. Next comes ot mind how big a place this should be. I think 10' x 15' is a good size. Arbitrary dimensions. Nonetheless a good start. I figure that size cabin would require about 35 - 40 >6" diameter trees at about 30' tall. This is assuming the logs are 12' x 17' lengths. This doesn't, of course, include spaces in the walls for windows and doors. I wonder if you can get a building permit to build a house with a privy? Health department approval? And can you build a house with no electricity? I wonder if I could call the cabin a shed, therby lowering taxes?
Drawings of the cabin from different perspectives.
I can't tell if it would be more desireable t have a porch on the south, east or north side. I think the porch would tend to block a lot of the winter's sun if it was on the south side.
December 22, 1992.
ReplyDelete20 Minute Write
Well, here we go. I've tied to gather all interested parties together for a reading/writing session. We're pulling teeth here. Looks like Terry, Judy, Lucky (their Golden Retriever) and I. Lots of talk now as I lay by the Christmas tree with its lights: green, red, blue, yellow, flashing, bubbling. Jim's entered the room and is setting up a Monopoly game. Jeniene was going to join us but now she can't find her book. I'm trying to find the drive I had when I thought about paying off the land and moving there. Already I find car needs crying out for more money. $50 for a new tire, a new shock is needed plus it looks like the brakes need to be worked over. As I was calling around for tire prices I looked through the owner's manual at all my receipts this past year from the car. That girl's a cash requiring cow. No wonder I can't meet my land payments when I spend $600 for car repairs and the same for hospital bills from the Everglades. It's a bit discouraging. In fact it sucks. I feel really tapped from this trip. My butt is killing me. And, even though we slept in this morning, I'm still dragging around.
Jenine and I had a walk with Prince (their German-short haired pointer) down to and around that mud lake. The water is a chocolate brown color. The ducks that live on the pond look like a cross between wild mallards and domesticated white ducks. They swim to the shore nearest the walkers and wait for handouts. When you walk, either after feeding them or not, they set up with a raucous laughter and calling. Their sound echoes all around the lake. We talked about "The Education of Little Tree" and how the end was so sad that everyone died including the horses and dogs. As Ed started to tell me later about Jenine coming up to him crying at the end of reading the book, it got me teary eyed. I'm a mush head when it comes to sad endings and affected kids.
This cold is still hanging on. My snot is a creamy green color, although after I slept there's blood mixed in. Terry's succumbed to this cold business as has Judy to a lesser degree. I keep wondering if I am going to write anything more that this drivelous crap. I wonder aand wait. And have faith that if I keep on writing I'll work through the garbage and, as Natalie (Golberg, author of "Writing Down the Bones" sift the composting material, my butt cheeks are screeaming out now when I sit on them (from the long car ride from Colorado). I wonder about my relationship with family. We were driving through the mountains of West Virginia and got into a discussion about how we deal with telling other people that we don't like what they may be doing. I was using that or, at least, it got around to explaining that I am concerned about displeasing friends and family by not living near them nad wanting to move up to the land. It was a good conversation. I really love Judy and Terry. There great to be around.
Christmas Eve, 1992.
ReplyDeleteSTAR OF WONDER, STAR SO BRIGHT. ROYAL BEAUTY, SHINNING BRIGHT.
Family almost all together for Christmas this year. But something seems amiss. I can't put my finger on it. It's life in the '90s. Go to a suburban house, eat, wrap presents, eat, wrap presents, eat. Sleep. It doesn't seem like much communicating going on. Something's going on between Georgette and Ed. Don't ask me what. I can't put my finger on it. They don't seem to talk at all. Maybe they can't because we're all here. They don't look into each other's eyes. Georgette seems ot ride Jeniene pretty closely. She seems pretty hard. I wonder if us all coming is a financial burden for them. She doesn't really seem all that glad we're here. She doesn't talk much, unless to reprimand Jimmy or Jeniene. I have this picture of her in the tradiitional bread-winning role. Complete with bread-winning role home life. Not too communicative, not real affectionate. Are wwe not making her feel a welcome part of the family? I don't understand. It's a strange feeling after being able to talk openly and feely with Judy and Terry. I'll go on from this. The first test of my pay-of-the-land goal came today in the form of car repairs. The flat tire I experienced was just the icing of some deeper problems. Bad rear struts. Grinding from the rear brakes was telling me that the pads were worn and also because I was grinding for so long it scored the brake drums which meant that they had to be turned. After a new tire and the nw gas-filled struts and brake job I'm $400 further away from the goal. I'll still be able to pay off '91 payment to Diane and Bob when I see them Saturday. The first pay check of the new year is going to Diane and Bob to start paying off the '92 debt. I'm not going to tlet this get away from me this year. Finally the last portion of my gripe will concern Gary and how he responded to my not being able to make it until the evening when he's the one who decided to spend Christmas with his family? Are the two related? I'm managing to related them. Humor boy. Let's not forget the humor. I think I handled it pretty well when I said I'd be letting him go when he started to broach the subject. It is such small, insignificant stuff, but I feel if I don't take notice and respond in more thought out manner, then I'll be giving wrong messages.
THIS IS THE YEAR OF MY INDEPENDENCE
1. I will no longer cower to others wants without taking time to think about what I'm doing.
2. I will not cave in if I'm constantly barraged by messages that run counter to my convictions of: a.) honesty, b.) frugality. c.) simplicity.
The floor around the Christmas trees is littered with presents. It's almost sickening like he mint chocolate taste in my mouth. This is a sign of the affluent society of America.. Out of this I'm planning on devoting some time to the "Meals on Wheels" program when I get back to East Hampton. This year I should plan on spending my holidays with people who don't have families or tables groaning with eighteen course dinners and six course deserts. Maybe it is somehow "sick" to subject yourself to that at the holidays, but if I want to really get away from this "cold." impersonal, capitalistic society, then I'd better get off my soapbox ans start doing something concrete.
12/27/92
ReplyDelete30 MINUTE WRITING
The day after, the day after Christmas. Georgette seems like she's better. She's smiling. Jeniene and Jimmy gave me an indoor herb garden, Santa gave me a calendar, Terry got me a red bandana, tool box with wrench, screwdrivers, pliers and a vice-grip wrench; plus a magic book and a can of cashews. Oh yeah, I think it was Jimmy that got me an "Outland" book. Very nice! I'm the keeper of the master list for next year's gift exchange. (We drew two names from a hat of who we would give to instead of buying gifts for everyone.) I put it somewhere that I won't lose it but at this moment I can't lay my fingers on it. Well, at the very least it's not in my fanny library. Nature calls so I'll drag this writing into the bathroom with me. It's warmer here in the bathroom, brighter too. The only drawback is now it smells! I hear the clicking of Prince's nails on the linoleum kitchen floor. I wasn't able to do my magic act while Diane and family were here yesterday. More time to practice them. Wobbly-legged Prince, old, deaf and slightly blind meanders out to the Christmas tree room and sniffs around some opened boxes. Outside he shuffles to his peeing spot, spreads his legs nd lets out squirts of urine. All the time his legs are quaking. He makes a little circle, sniffing his way around then stops by the lampost; spreads his legs and lets go with a few little streams of urine. Prince is at least 14 years - that' s about 98 dog years. The boy has a young streak in him when Karen, Tom, Jeniene and I were wrestling around on the floor and Lucky was attacking us. Prince would run in once in a while, bark at us and take a gestured nip at Lucky. Then later on we were trying to keep the daily growl away from Lucky and Prince was barking the whole time and taking nips at Lucky as he'd pass by. Still trying to protect his home and family from interlopers.
The sun's definitely cleared the horizon by now. It's rays are bright on the house with the shingled roof up the hill from here. Doves, maybe seven or eight, were working the groung under the birdfeeder. Just as I noticed them they all, save one or two, flew up and lighted on the fence. Now they're sitting on the fence, backs to me, and huntched over. It looks like a thin layer of frost is covering the grass and cars.
Today we go to the theater, "My Secret Garden" then Mom and I are going to her place from there. Monday I'll leave Mom's early in the morning and drive up to the land to meet Gary. A few days ago, maybe just yesterday, I realized why my strut and wheel went bad so quickly. When we were putting the second set of windows in Mom's downstairs I took a load of 2 x 4's back to NY. The car was loaded heavily on the right side. That's probably why that strut went. Thinking about recent car expense makes me feel sick with my incompetence when it comes to knowing what's wrong with my car and how to fix it. My original response, as I was driving to NAPA to drop off the strut that I bought but didn't use, was I'm going to ride my bike to work, even if it takes 45 - 60 minutes one way. At least that's better than sitting on my fat ass to and from. Do you think I can do it? I'll test it out as soon as I get back home on Thursday. I've got to break my dependence on this damnable auto. It's too convenient.
December 28, 1992
ReplyDeleteWRITING WAITING FOR DRIVEWAY (AT MOM'S) TO BECOME DRIVEABLE.
Before I head up to the land I was frustrated this morning by the freezing an and ice, sleet driveway. But through the frustration came an explanation, and a "new" idea. Sell the land and buy a smaller parcel in the mountains of North Carolina. Or the piedmont. Somewhere away from the sprawl of commerce. With tall trees, big rolling hilss or mountains. Somewhere a little closer to family. Already here I see some back peddling. Wait till you see Gary and go back to work and see John. You'll forget all about your convictions to move up to the land by next year and will be resuming the dual life that you had sworn off just a few short pages ago.
EVENING IN UTICA, NY
After shoveling two paths up the ice-covered driveway at Mom's I got the car up the hill and parked it. I got away from Mom's by about 10:30. One cool thing I noticed after my temper-tantrum with the ice and shoveling, I could see water moving underneath the ice on the driveway. Pretty amazing sight I'd say. Just working it's way down with gravity along the path of least resistance under the ice roof.
I picked up a hitchhiker on 81. Mom would have a bird if she sknew I occasionaly picked up hitchhikers. The guy looked clean shaven, and it looked like a miserable day to be thumbing a ride. As it turns out his name is? Dwight? Damn me if I can't remember it now. Anyway it was a vote of confidence for humankind to pick up this waterlogged traveler. Turns out he lost his job about a month ago from a shipping company in Hampton (?) New Hampshire. The guy coaches a town basketball team - not associated with any High Schools. So kids who may not play on the high schol team have another option. Maybe someday this casual ride-giving to hitchhikers will do me in. Someone will pull out a gun or rob me and I'll be just another statistic. Time will tell. At least my world of direct experience is feeding information contrary to the "TRANSPORTATION INDUSTRY- BACKED MAINSTREAM MEDIA! I mentioned several times to Dwight (?) that I was glad to have picked someone up when the society tells us that you're asking for trouble when you pick up a hitch-hiker.He probably thought I was some kind of nut the way I went on about media and how it gives us such a false sense of the world. Anyway Dwight was telling me about coaching and shipping. Both noteworthy. For shipping from VA use Consolidated Freightways. For shipping from Pittsburgh, use Yellow Line. And don't ever go with the first price they give you or your a sucker. He was usually able to knock 40 - 50% off the price of freight by haggling with the company salesman. He coaches by yelling, practicing hard and joining the players in playing. I was surprised that he is a basketball coach since he's about my height, maybe a little taller. He didn't start playing basketball 'til he was a Junior in high school. I guess that's late. I thought it was anyway, because it seemed to me that if you didn't play basketball as a freshman or sophomore then you didn't play basketball.
12/29/92
ReplyDeleteRidgeview Motel, Lowville, New York. I just smuggled Boris into the room. A room for one person. I smuggled myself in here too. We drove up from Utica via Boonville and the land. We parked at the usual winter spot where they stopped plowing the road and walked up to the land and then along the land via the usual path down the center, through the clearing, down to the sunning rock then on down to the ravine. I'm disappointed with myself for the behavior last night. So much for my holding back and stating my thoughts, my new direction. Poof! They disappear like fog. What to do? Stand up and try again. Each day is a new start. Gary tells me he's going to give Boris away. Wow! Once again. After a bad incident - Boris eating up the inside of his van - he's going to give him away. The television is trying to overtake my thoughts and writings. So much for 30 minute period. AAGH! My trying to work on goals that I've set for myself are just flying out the window. HOW THE HELL AM I GOING TO GET TO ANY OF THESE GOALS IF I'M THROWN OFF THEM SO GODDAM EASILY? HOW! HOW! I DON'T KNOW. Auto rotation paved the way, done by the wind similar to that seen behind me auto lift on the hinges whirl aircraft out of control..Sikorski(words from TV news).
A walk. Keep writing. you must keep writing. Keep writing on this wall. Writing need to continue to get you through. I want to move to the land and live simply, growing my own food, preserving my own food, reading, walking, writing and drawing. Can it ever happen? It's got to happen. I have to prove to myself that I can do it. I've got to stick with what I tell myself. I've got to..Stay with it. Hold on and work through. Hold on and work through. You can do it. Please all you have to do is tell people what you need and then work through. You've got to tell people what you think and go from there. Don't tell people what you want them to hear, tell them what you really think. Don't hold back. I'm really stuck in this personal baggage. How many pages now have filled with the same old words, blah, blah, blahing to death. I've got to write it and let it out. It's many years of rattling around in my head, not really writing in my journal except on occasion. Maybe it's like a photographer taking thousands upon thousands of pictures. Eventually one out of those thousands comes out the way she want it. So if I can just keep on writing. I like my friendship with Gary but I don't like the lover part, yet I don't know how to stop it. I just want to say "stop." I don't want to do this anymore. It's too confusing. Gary, I want us to be best friends but I don't want to be lovers. All this telling me about the house he's buying and trying to make me a part of it. Yet when he tells me storys about Sandy I get confused. When will this crazy situation straighten out? When will I have the nerve to straighten it out?
December 30, 1992.
ReplyDeleteThe snowmobilers form hell are already started. Reving the engines of their smog and sound pollution monsters. I couldn't believe all the snowmobiles plying the road from where we parked our car yesterday up past the land. There must have been at least twenty that passed while we were walking to and from the land along the possibly 1/2 mile of road. How can it be that everywhere you go, men and their fucking machines are there littering, stinking and making mose with their fuucking recreational activities. Can't a person go anywhere without someonbe else shitting on the scenery? It's so frustrating. I think about living on the land, the peace, tranquility and silence. Then I get there in the middle of winter and the place is a bustling freeway of stupid people sitting on their fat asses and polluting hte air with smells and sounds. What joy can their re in riding one of those monstrously loud machines. Especially when you're doing it in groups of two or more? Woe be to the person last in line of a group of five, ten, or even two. Sniffing in the freshly combusted air of the great outdoors. How can riding a snowmobile be enjoyable beyond the first fifteen minutes, or even half hour or the exceptionally strong-minded, not bored at a drop of the helmet snowmobiler? Gary likened the howling machines of pollution to jet skis. A very good likeness. Making noise, air pollution and fighting the boredom of our boring, tedious, dull and unintereting lives by giving us more of the same. Trails and trails through undeveloped woods where bear, deer, prcupine, squirrel and wild turkeys live quietly living out their lives. Would a person on a snowmobile care to see any of those animals? Or is the joy of snowmobiling the joy of staying on th roads and snowmobile trails travelled by hundreds of mobilers before? Well goddamn it all isn't this AMERICA? Pursuit of freedom and happiness however one chooses? Well, ahem I think so says the skinny-necked, knock-kneed, fascist environmentalist hippy-freak, tree-hugging, faggot, liberal, Bambi freak! Then why the hell can't I do whatever I want if it's in the pursuit of my personal happiness? Well, you see we all have to share this planet. So if by your doing whatever you're doing deprives me of MY pursuit of personal happiness then this isn't America. What a crock of shit you little limp-wristed, zit-pocked, runny-nosed, college drop-out that thinks you know what America stands for. How can my simply riding along with my friends on our snowmobiles past your property keep you from enjoying your pursuit of happiness? Even if you pursuit of happiness is at the cost of the AMERICAN DREAM $$$$$$ by your livng in a shack with no electricity or running water and eating nuts and berries. Well the noise causes the animals in the woods to run further away from the roads. I enjoy watching the animals, but when you and your fraternity of snowmobiles come riding along the noise causes them to run away from where I can see them. When I walk to town on windless days along the road, the pollution from your snowmobiles lies along the roadway and is slow to disipate after you pass by so my deep breathing as I walk or ski along sucks in those fumes and is harming my lungs. Furthermore, when I'm writing or reading, things I enjoy in my pursuit of happiness, I am continuously hearing the howling, screaming sounds from the snowmobile pack. Definitely a disturbing and unnatural sound.
On our drive yesterday, surprisingly, in a field alongside Route 12, a little fter Barnveld, we saw perhaps 6 - 8 wild turkeys strutting their stuff. So much for the sounds of machines scaring wildlife away from roads. Then again I said snowmobiles. Snowmobiles, are decidedly louder than your average passenger car, although equal if not suprassed by 18-wheel trucks.
December 30, 1992 continued...
ReplyDeleteThe fog is getting thicker since the walk with Boris this morning. I figure the air temperature is in the upper 30s so the snow that's left is responsible for this. Why? The air is warmer than the snow. Energy is being used up from the air as the snow goes from a solid to a liquid, an energy requiring process. Meanwhile the air is going from a gas to a liquid an energy producing occurence and htis liquid is in he form of fog clouds. How's that sound? It makes sense, but is it true?
December 31st, 1992.
ReplyDeleteLast day of the arbitrary year 1992. It's funny how we've "programmed" ourselves to have certain emotions: love, anxiety, frustration, sleeping, hope, joy at Christmas and New Year's or really at any heavily celebrated holiday: Easter, Hannukah. Then when the holidays are over a whole 'nother set comes into fill the space of the past emotions. Depression, blues, anxiety, frustration, fear, boredom. All seem to flow logically and efficiently into one another.
This has been one of my better holiday seasons. Being outside of the daily talk, pomp and decoration, brainwashing and desensitizing with Christmas advertisements overt and covert. Of course the blues feel like they're waiting for me just around the corner. But I haven't had the frustration of the holidays in the usual proportion that assails me. After this time off my head feels clear. I don't feel as much a pawn of the outside world as I did before I went away. I think going out to see Judy and Terry has played a major role in feeling the way I do now. There's a great benefit of relaxation and self-discovery in reading and having stimulating conversations with other people. It makes me want to seek out new people and make them friends so discussion groups can be formed. I know a good portion of my comfort was due to the loving environment of family. I can see that now the moment I set foot in my "home?" The house smells to me of dog and that wet-drain-pipe-from-sink-odor that was here permeating everything when we moved in. Besides that, the pseudo-oriental rug is totally covered and matted with Boris hair. Piles of Gary's stuff, plans, sweaters, jackets, Christmas paper, sit in piles in convenient corners. The kitchen has garbage bags overflowing with garbage & recyclables. The cedar chest in the kitchen has a nine inch thick layer of newspapers covered by other, as yet unrecognizable layers. What's shocking to me is that this bothers me. Before I left the house, probably wasn't too dissimilar for the shape it's in now. It didn't seem to bother me too much back then. Maybe I was scairt of being thought a wimp or pansy for wanting to live in a clean house. Maybe there just weren't enough hours in the day to work, clean, and cook. Maybe it was a combination of both. All I know is now I'm pretty well disgusted. By that and by my room. I lay on the floor of my room separated from the wood by the Peruvian rug and the futon surrounded by canyon walls of three pieces of furniture (my inheritance from my lesbian Great Aunt Margaret, chest of drawers and bureau.) My walls are practically bare. What a horrid, sterile place. I think one of my orders of business today is going to be to simplify the state of my room. A purge is definitely in order. I'm going to find those Biology posters that Karen made for me and pin them up. The boxes and other odds and ends like unfinished tables for Kathryn and Cameron can go into the basement or up in the attic. That wooden box that I used to use as a bookshelf would bake a good bedside stand. I think the bureau and desk should also go down to the basement. The filing cabinet will probably fit in to the closet once I stow the boxes. Maybe just the bureau would have to go down to the basement. I'll start now.
January 2, 1993.
ReplyDeleteMany of the New Year's Crew: Sandy, Carol, Aaron, Gary, Jenn, Dan, Karen, Christine and Steve have gone or are off running errands. Just the Bo dog, Dan, Jenn and I waking up, eating breakfast, sitting on the floor by the couch. Emotionally I've reacted to Gary's claiming that he's going to give Boris away or have him put down. I said if I can get an okay from John to take Bo to the hatchery every day, I'll take him. But I don't really want animals. I was reacting on an emotional center at an emotional time. I'll take Bo and we'll work it out and have fun together. He'll be my motivation to take walks, maybe he'll keep my organization I's running strong. Right now I'm feeling screwed up in my head again. Just like before I left. When you think about this New Year's Eve gathering it's funny and a bit scary the complex and myriad relationships past, present and future that were contained in the room. While it was a great evening. I was all flustered by the fact that Sandy was coming. Gary's holding Sandy. The fact that I've been relegated to the used pile just like Boris and Jenn. I think this trip was a vacation from emotions because I wasn't having any of the old insecure, unsure, nervous feeling that I find dashing through my body now. As I sit and write at the table in the kitchen now the sun is shinning through the window above the kitchen sink. It's warm rays are penetrating my exposed neck and whole right side. It's calming me. Boris just finished his breakfast. My nerves are firing. I feel this anxious, restless feeling. I'm pent up with these firings. All I would like to do is inflict on Gary the same feelings that he's been giving me with having Sandy here. I don't know if I can continue in the same house with this guy. Rationally I know that I'm in charge of my feelings. Well, maybe not in charge of the emotions. Just because I have them though doesn't mean I have to react to them. I can observe them, let's try that. I feel angry. Why? Because Gary doesn't appear to show any emotion. When Sandy's here she's his girl, holding hands, hugging, quiet glances. When she's not here and he feels horny he thinks I look good and he says he loves me as we embrace. Then after we've gotten each others rocks off up comes the old wall. No more understanding. This is so confusing. It's fine if he loves Sandy but I just don't know how to deal with it when he says he loves me too. What a fucking mess this is. The only thing I want to do is get away. Run away from this crazy life. I've forgotten the sense of humor. Remember that life is really just God making a big joke with himself in all our various forms. I run around in circles screaming look what Gary did to me, look what so and so did to me, look what John did to me, look what Dad did to me. The funny part of all this is that they are all me, and I am them. We are all one. No sense in dragging along something in the past and making it "preordain" your future. Shit just happens. Understand it from inside your heart. Now with your brain. Things happen, things happen. We think we have control over life, but the truth is that it control us. Our "own" lives are in how we deal with life's way of controlling us. I claim that I am victimized by these people. All the myriad of people. Truth is it's me victimizing myself. That sun feels good. I am victimizing myself. I'm the one who drank unrememberable bottles of beer and glasses of champagne Thursday night to counteract my helpless reaction to Sandy's visit, and then screwed me up for the next day because I was feeling like I needed a good puke.
January 3rd, 1993.
ReplyDeleteLAST DAY OF VACATION!
Pretty high grey clouds coming in over the sky. I'm going to Church today. I need to go. I need some answers. Some signs of what or where this life is going. What about Boris? What about Gary? We talked last night about the funny and crazy weekend. About our friendship and a bit about his and Sandy's. It's so confusing and crazy. I love Gary on one hand and yet I'm caught in a pickle. I want to live simply on a piece of land somewhere, subsistence farming. Gary tells me about his ambitions of maybe becoming a developer some day, of his investments. His goals are great if that's what he wants. But as I see it, our two ambitions while not at opposite end of the spectrum are at some glances polar. So while both talk about loving each other, I think we both realize that we're going to be unhappy trying to lie in the other's world. Now I flash on a thought of compromise. Something that could work. An avocation of gardening, fruit trees, beekeeping. But a vocation of my own oyster culture business. Buying seed from Blue Points of Malinowski and growing it out for three years, What about the grow-out? How to? Need to talk to Chuck Stiedel about his depuration business. The business should be small enough for one person to handle. 1. Plus you have to be able to float yourself for three years, in addition you need to have 2. capital costs of three years of grow-out gear. Whatever it may be read the Mathiessen book on oyster-culture again. 3. Permits for bottom and off-bottom culture. 4. Need to talk to Rick about his interest in such an idea. He'd be a good person to talk to about this because 1. he dives 2 has an interest in aquaculture 3. lives on the water near a good site. If Rick is interested, I need to get him and me a copy of Mathiessen's book.
January 3rd, 2013
ReplyDeleteLast day of vacation continued...
Figure the numbers. I don't know the numbers. I've got to find them out. What would it take? How many millions of seed to produce X number of bushels three years later? And what about buying a\off the town with promise of a certain percentage of what we grow for stocking in public waters? Need to look for papers on Gardiner's Bay and other East End estuaries for info on physical, chemical and biological characteristics. Small-time investment: 6. Think about part-time graduate study at Stony Brook. 7. Think seriously about the BOCES courses. Better still just start with Gary's outboard and recondition it. 8. Get a subscription to Aquaculture Magazine. 9. Learn about the people at Stony Brook involved with permits for State bottom land. Welding would be a good thing to learn.
January 4, 1993
ReplyDeleteFirst day back at work and all es gut. Many jobs for me to work on. Making rafts. Ordereing materials for rafts, setting up shellfish report. Finishing vexar liners for blocks. It feels like a new job. Now I sit and wait for the lentils, monastery-style to cook up. It's eight o'clock on a Monday night. I hear the clanging bell of the train gate. Now the whistling from the train as it crosses intersections on it's way West out of the East Hampton station. The house feels like more of a home now that it's had a cleaning. The plants have had showers and I've thined out the crap in my room. Now only bed, crate as night stand and desk tucked away in the corner as I enter the room. As I move further away from the New Year's Eve crazy party I'm able to laugh inside at it. I couldn't think of a more bizzarely arranged group of people with unbelievably complex emotions. Gary tells me that Aaron (Aaron dated Sandy while he was living in Boston then when he and Sandy broke up, Gary asked if Aaron would mind if he asked Sandy out) and Sandy had difficult times New Year's Eve. Ah who the hell cares about all this mindless blather. When do I get to writing something else, something less than minor drivel. Is there anything less? What I want to know is what is the point of life? What is the meaning of it anyway? You do realize that Boris doesn't give two shits about me. So why should I get involved with this crazy, wacko, fucked-up canine psycho bastard? Am I testing myself again? Do you enjoy having Boris around? He's cute to look at. But honestly he's a pain in the ass. He's not at all affectionate. He's destructive when we leave him. For some reason I feel like I owe it to him to try to keep him. He's a living, breathing animal for Christ's sake. You can't just kill because he's not convenient. It's a waste of life. Boris is waiting at this very moment for Gary to come home. He's laying on his pillow, ears pricked up to hear the first sounds of footsteps. I picture in my mind a conversation I have with Gary about Boris. If he would've taken Boris on a trial basis to undrstand what his quirks were then maybe we wouldn't be faced with the situation we're faced with. You know what the problem is, as I see it? In our convenience oriented country we're not obliged to live with our bad decisions. You sleep with some woman and she gets pregnant, well you just have an abortion. Maybe that's not true that we're not forced to live with our decisions. You have to live with the fact that you caused a woman to have an abortion just as you'd have to live with the decision that you had Boris put to sleep.
January 6, 1992.
ReplyDeleteWednesday. MY first day going to work with Bo. Morning walks are good. We get outside and it's black like the night. It still is the night. We head out the back drive and out Stratton Square to Gould. I can't see Boris once we're away from the street lights and house lights. When he's nearby I can hear the clinking of his collar. I like this morning walk routine. Now my thoughts are stuck. My thoughts on the walk are here and there. I like looking at the naked winter trees before daylight strikes them and lightens all. Even in twilight the branches stand out against the sky. I see pattrn of squiggly lines intersecting and arcing across the blue-black sky.
January 6, 1993 continued....
ReplyDeleteIn the pools of water from yesterday's rain I see sillouettes of faces unknown to me. Since Aaron pointed out the howling man in the side of on of the over 50' tall trees on the walk in to town, I've been noticing faces and figures in unaccustomed places. Now I'm just waiting for my cheerios to soak up some milk. I can hear a faint crackling sound as the milk works it's way into, in through the pores of the little wheat donuts. Yesterday, I say David Saskis at Dressen's. He used to be a crew chief at Walbridge. Now he's on his own. He started his own surveying company and has one guy working for him.
1-7-1993 Jeniene's Birthday
ReplyDeleteAlready I've missed a good writing day. I guess it shouldn't matter all that much since what I've ben writing is pretty dry stuff anyway. Tonight I had dinner at Sam's Restaurant with Larry and Gary. It was a good dinner, but I guess I'm plain old insecure. I found it hard to get a word in edge-wise. Then when I'd get the moment to talk I'd sound like a complete idiot. I'm thinking that I should get some help with my lack of confidence and insecurity. I don't know how to deal. I think I'm doing fine, but then I turn around and see that my emotions are telling me something totally different. Am I a spoiled child? Are my frustrations with the world due to the spoiled child not getting his way in a world that could give two shits, maybe even one, whether or not he get his way? I'd like to just pull myself up by my bootstraps, but I can't find my boots, let alone the damn straps to pull 'em up with. Why am I always complaining about not being treated "right?" I'm the one responsible for how I'm being treated. I've got to feel comfortable with my silence or else say something to get out of my silence,
Self-esteem -
1. to set a value on; appraise; to regard as;
2. to appreciate the worth of; to hold in high regard..
1-9-93
ReplyDeleteI finally called Laura today. I'm glad I got that over with. I don't know why I was having such a problem with calling her. I do know why. I don't want to make her think I'm still interested. I don't know why I'm so worried though. If she were all that interested she could call me. True enough! So don't be so uptight about it. Things work out the way they work out. When will these words strike home in your heart?
Well, then, when will this writing move on to higher planes? I guess I'm trying to force myself or edit myself when really all that's needed is free uninhibited writing. Just keep on going boy. I'm going to see how long I can go without jerking off. That should be interesting considering the last time I tried that was when I started college and was rooming with Greg. It worked until I had wet dreams so then I figured why not take matters into my own hands and give myself pleasure when I felt like it instead of waiting for some dream to let loose on. Now I've been comfortable with my masturbation for these years that maybe it's become one of those things I take for granted. So, I'll stop for as long as I can and see if I can observe any changes in other parts of my personality, enthusiasm, energy level.
A funny thought occurred to me about Laura and what she must be thinking about my spending the night at her place way back in October then not being too good at communicating or getting together after that. I thought maybe since that was the same night that she told me she was dislectic she thought I couldn't deal with that. If she things that I'm not giving her too much credit for having her shit together. The other though occurs to me that maybe she thinks I'm gay. A scary thought. I let a whole scene unwind in my mind where she calls into question my sexual preference and I think of clever ways to counter her question, usually with a question which asks why she would wonder? Because I guess I do wonder if people think that about me, not having a girlfriend, sharing a house with another adult male for all these years. This wall keeps hitting me in the face when I ask the question, "Why should I care what others think?" It's my own life isn't it? This is going no where as usual.
The day was cold, biting winds and grey snow clouds. A day of writing letters, packing presents, walks and the big shopping and laundry session. It went by so quickly.
January 15, 1993.
ReplyDeleteA funny day at the hatchery working on red tape, seeding maps. I'm not too good at concentrating on these maps when I hear other conversations in the room. I'm not getting a whole hell of a lot accomplished. I was thinking that I should go in over this three day weekend but fuck it. I'm going to take advantage of this holiday because once the season rolls in, holidays and full weekend will be fewer and farther between. I'm looking forward to the upcoming season. I've got to get a notebook so I can keep track of my hours. Two weeks have gone by this year and I haven't kept too close an eye on my hours especially since their less than the eight a day that I'm being paid. How convenient aye, matey? The morning walks with Bo have felt good. It's dark as night out when we head out and, with all the cloudy weather, it's not dramatically brighter when we get back. I like the trees along Cedar Street. And at this time of year big trees have mucho character. Their bark and naked shape are what I notice. Not just a tree.
The budget survived this week! Three cheers for you lad. You've done good. I'll even have five bucks left over. I'll put that toward Jeniene's birthday present. What a silly little game I'm playing with this budget. I keep telling myself that if I
Sunday, January 17th, 1993.
ReplyDeleteI've got to keep my mouth shut more. Sure it's okay to speak your mind. Sometimes my words come out of my mouth in a thoughtless reaction, usually emotional, to what I'm hearing someone say. I'm putting Gary down too often. Don't you realize how lucky you are to have him as one of your only friends? Sometimes I don't think so by the way you let trivial bullshit tick you off.
We saw "A River Runs Through it" at Sag Harbor tonight. I think I need some diverse yet definite routine. Church should be on the schedule at least once a week. The walks are good. I've got to keep them going. I really do want to live on the land. At least try it. Get up at 5:45 tomorrow and take Bo and me for a walk. Somehow I should celebrate Martin Luther King Day. What do I do? Read some history book about him? Read some Langston Hughes poems. Maybe he would have written something about Kind unless Hughes was around long before King. My lack of knowledge about black leaders and time frames is embarrassing. I wonder what we white kids would thing about only learning black leaders in high school history?
January 18, 1993.
ReplyDeleteBack to it on Martin Luther King Day. I stopped writing in here most of last week because I spent my writing time on letters. That said, like a child apologizing to his parents for wayfaring ways I am free to go on. I've made my excuse. And here I am. Missing a week, almost, of writing in this old book had had its costs I think. Without this contemplative session my thoughts are less ordered and I seem to react more emotionally to what those around me are saying. I get back to using others' standards, maxims, etc as my own. When I write I can sometimes bolster myself to believe in my own or set my own. Like this Town political crap. I'm realizing that I don't really care about it. It's a topic of discussion.
I notice when John and I are alone I feel the same thoughts of inadequacy washing over me. But, when Tom's around I feel a little more confidence in myself. I'm not sure what that is.