July 25, 1986
Today the opel was dragged off to the junk yard - orange hazards blinking sadly as it went out of sight.
What a good car it was. I even got it to run again before the tow truck guy took it away. I can remember Dad working on it after we had it painted and then found it needed engine work. He did work hard on it. We pulled the engine out using his revered come-along hooked to the central beam downstairs. He ran to Harrisburg to have this part polished, the Clines to have the alternator repaired, to Wintermyer's junk yard for piston cap (the original broke on my way back from Florida in 1984, and Dad came to get me in Lumberton, North Carolina.) AAA in State College, towed in NJ when Barb and I drove to check out Southampton College for the first time. An auto repair shop in Altoona - the Opel broke down when Tom Miorelli, Barb and I were on our way back from Indiana University of PA where Tom and I had picked up Barb.
4 August 1986
ReplyDeleteWeek two of Marine Operations and Research at Southampton College
The sky is beautiful tonight. The star of the day has disappeared leaving the stage as a crimson sphere, slipping quietly out of sight. The bugs know that the harsh brightness has left the sky because they rise to take their part on the stage almost in complementary timing with the absence of the day's leading player.
Now the clouds are illuminated by the new addition to the stage crew. The leading edges of the wispy clouds are highlighted pink - bright. The trailing edges are wisped away not really knowing where they end. The deep blue sky turns lighter, to robin's egg then grey. I am thankful for this day. To my friends and to my family. All things as they are.
Bicycle trip with Gary this Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Friday night we camped on the beach at Cedar Point. Saturday night was spent in the curl of the walking dune. One of many of a crew called the Walking Dunes. We made it through a thunderstorm that seemed to last the night's length. I spent half the time trying to keep warm since staying dry was a miserable failure.
Friends shold not be given away as mere experiences of one's life. Friends should be thanked and honored and not be plaed in a heirarchy of best or worst. Accept as they are.
3 September 1986
ReplyDeleteNow I'm at Terry's - by the weed-filled pool. A paradise for lizards, bees, wasps, ants, grasses and flowering weeds. I got here Monday. Ed, Jenine and Jimmy were here at Georgette's Mom and Dad's. We spent the afternoon and evening together. Saturday I drove home (to PA) from school (Southampton, NY) and then followed Mom - she driving her car and me driving Terry's truck - to Bob and Dee Dee's. I left their place Sunday morning.
The Tuesday before, I was rushing to finalize my Marine Op paper so that I could go bicycling with Gary in Vermont. A trip that we had planned since the Eastern Long Island (Walking Dunes) trip in August. While Gary waited for me in the library, he started reading "Newsday" and found in the harsh black print that rubs off in your hands that his best friend from Bay Shore, Ray, was accused of killing a man with a baseball bat after that man had stabbed Ray at his bar.
We drove by Bay Shore on the way to Vermont, were going to stop at Ray's place, but didn't because he wasn't at his bar. Gary didn't want to go to Ray's house and face his mom....
The bicycling trip in Vermont cannot be described with words, but is locked in me and there's no way that I'll ever forget it.
Free lodgings, freshwater lakes and streams to swim/bathe in at each place except one. No people so the formalities of bathing suits was no longer required. Blue skies, clouds, mountains, dirt roads, babbling brooks, and my friend - harmony. We ate when we were hungry and time was not of the essence. No connotations....
4 September 1986
ReplyDeleteI sit here in the shade of an unkown tree. The blue sky and white and grey clouds above Terry, the tree and me are clear. Light breezes tassle my weedy hair in the path of of my vision. I brush it out of my face with my trusty comb, my hand. The wind blows it back in my way. It mingles with my eyebrows and takes a stab at my eyeballs.
Fall semester at U.C.F. Sitting as an observer of students - detatched. Terry mentions that perfumes are preceeding their wearers. Girls walk by with bright dresses - purple, blue, green, pink - flapping in the cooling airs. Young complexions. Smooth, soft - looking skin. The sun must warm their spirits, they are smiling. It's not a single sex campus though. Boys/men are walking in the sun healthy, happy, complimentary to women.
17 September 1986
ReplyDeleteThis morning I got to work at 6:00 a.m., maybe a little after. Al, a fellow truck unloader from the (Shinnecock) Indian Reservation had been waiting at the back door of Schmidt's Produce (Jagger Lane, Southampton, NY) since 5:00 a.m. When I bicycled up, I didn't see anyone. I thought, shit, not again. Last Monday I came to work at 6:00 and waited till 7:00 when Rich, the manager, came. "Oh, no one got in touch with you to let you know there wasn't going to be a truck? I'm sorry." Last week I had "Grapes of Wrath", and the morning was a little warmer than today. I had the "Enchanted Broccoli Forest" and someone else to accompany me in my left-field state today.
Al was seated on a blue milk crate in the recess by the backdoor. As we talked about how long he'd be waiting and where he'd ridden from, he kept his head down - concentrating on getting the dirt out from under one of his fingernails. One prning star flickered paler and paler as the day star lightened the sky.
8 November 1986
ReplyDeleteA day after six months since Dad died. Never thought I'd be where I am now back then. One usually doesn't though...well not this one anyway.
Barb's getting married to Jim Ingram on Valentine's Day 1987. I wonder what she's doing now. Talking with Jim on the phone or maybe they're with each other this weekend. I wonder if she's made love to hime. I'd imagine she has, afterall the commitment was definitely there.
It's amusing how we two-legged creatures go through great ado about civilities, etiquette and proper handling of ourselves in the courtyards of other two-legged types. Some think a great deal about how they should behave and come off stiff, unnatural. Others think and come off naturally. Others don't think, and don't care and come off with an air of appropriateness. Ah yes.
The stories we tell to lovers, the stories we tell to friends, are they different - the stories? Or the lovers and friends?
Do what you want and be - do not think about what is best until that situation arrives. Above all don't take yourself to: the garbage? No, too seriously. When I get too serious, I can seethis is true now, I think about what it would be like to kill myself. Would I be a success? Or would the success be the manifestation of my ultimate failure? Heavy, heavy. It loads down my spirit these heafty questions. But they are ever so devious in pouncing upon my spirit. Then I become like a rabbid animal - foaming, seething with anger. My mind splits, out comes the lunatic.
I haven't done drugs, nor sex (not till recently), I haven't worked for my keep, but I must pay for that now with my sanity. But I think I should like to refuse this downward spiraling debasement of my normally warm-hearted soul.
Yes, isn't life interesting?
I will go to the sea and be a sailor or will I be a pirate. A ha ye scurvey soundrels I will smash down upon that innocent flower with the weight of my steel-heeled boots. What has that flower got to offer me, it is of no use unless it gives me an orgasm. Waht's that word doing here? How did it get on to this page. Oh, you say it's the synonym for love. Okay, I can accept that.
You're a good boy do as you're told and you'll do just fine. You are to be seen and not heard. A perfect model of the facade. Evil thoughts come to mind, I run to the closet and slam the door shut with all my energies. It's not right to have thoughts about illicit sex with men and women. Teh caging of my spirit began many years previous by the world's best cage maker...me! Ta da.
Now that I have grown to an unimpressive size, I find that my closet closing energies are gone. I am a model facade; however, shallow behind the props. Lobotomized as I wander through life. Do not make waves do not disagree. Make things easy for people and they will like you. But what if I don't care? What if I am moody? Why should I pretend to be something when I don't feel like something?
Notes on the last page and back cover of this Journal #1:
ReplyDelete"I do desire that we be better strangers."
Books:
"Desert Solitaire" Edward Abbey
"Economics for the Power Age" Scott Nearing
"The Jungle" Upton Sinclair
"Cold as Ice" Foreigner
"You're so Vain" Carly Simon
"Bridge Over Troubled Waters" Simon and Grafunkle
Jethro Tull
"I am so Into You" Atlanta Rhythm Section
Pat Benetar
"Hit Me With Your Best Shot"
"Hell Is For Children"
"Evil Genius"
The Kinks
"Paranoia"
"Lola"
The Doors
"Riders on the Storm"
"Hello I Love You"
Albums:
Boston
Emerson Lake and Palmer
Previn Plays Gershwin "Rhapsody in Blue"
Pink Floyd
20 December 1986
ReplyDeleteyesterday I had the last exam of my college career. The distance between Southampton and myself is increasing daily. Not only in time but in actual mileage - Pennsylvania, last night, Virginia today, Texas tomorrow.
Slow down though. Don't rush through life as if it were only an obstacle in your way as you head to something beyond. Release my spirit from the short-sighted, overly-sensitive, demanding, compulsive, non-accepting, egotistical vehicle which conveys it through friendships and encounters on this small planet located some where (I can't figure out where) in the scheme of things.
Mars and Venus (?) are close in the western sky.
I am bushed.
21 December 1986
ReplyDeleteMom and I had Christmas at Diane, Bob, Tom and Karen's this morning. For memory/thank-you letter writing sake:
Bob, Dee Dee, Karen and Tom:
swiss army knife, no slip mug, calender
Mom: wrap around sunglasses
Gary: "Huckleberry Finn" Mark Twain, "Billy Budd" Herman Melville, Waren Zevon Tape.
Mom and I got to San Antonio this afternoon. Georgette, Ed, Jeniene and Jim were at the airport to greet us. What a crew! It's been raining here since we arrived. The house is new and very nice.
22 December 1986
ReplyDeleteI'm short on words tonight. It rained as if somone was pouring water from the sky in a bucket. We stayed inside all day except for a brief trip this evening to Albertson's Food Store. This lifestyle is a big change from bicycling to school and work. I don't think I like not being able to go outside when I feel like it. The attitude here is one of submission to the elements. Run from house to car, drive car to work or food store, run from car to store, buy things, drive home, run from car to house. Whew, I'm out of that miserable weather. Maybe rain drops are glad their not wasting their water on the miserable humans. Living in a house where you're a timid little animal. Can't cook for fear of things spilling over, can't take a piss without flushing and thinking about the ramifications of urine in a clean bowl for more than a few hours.
I think about my lover and how we left on unexpressive terms. I wonder if the lover is thinking about me. I wanted to get a card to mail to the lover today, but was unable to have the time at the store to look for one. I am using a victim's approach.
This is an emotional time. I miss the lover, yet I must be honest and say that I am glad to be free. Free of what? Free to do...? I am confused. I feel oppressed when I'm with the lover. The love does what the love wants to do. Yet I want to do things for my love, but then I must think about what I do ad get stuck then I make myself feel oppressed. I think too much.
A conflict inside me rages between wating to be loved and to love, and being independent, self sufficient and in command.
It would be easy to go away and never write back, never look back, and pretend that nothing ever happened. But to do that would be to deny four months of my life and the best friend a man culd ever have. I will not run away like a mouse going into hiding from the owl of life. I think that another reason I might want to get away from the love is that it's truth hurts my fragile ego. And I'm not honest with the love except when I feel hurt.
Texas Bluebonnet - Lupinus texensis
ReplyDelete27 December 1986
Yikes. The music is too loud. Good, but too loud. It's making my brain swell. Doesn't anyone like to hear silence anymore? I must complain a lot. I have a low tolerance for loud sounds. A sign of a high-strung person I suspect. Can't help the way I feel. Turn the music off, put the kids to bed - give me some quiet. I feel distracted from this writing warm-up. I should get up and blow my nose but it's just an excuse. No it's not.
Kids indoors drive me crazy. Be quiet, be quiet, you can't do this, don't do that. Kids need to be outside so they can scream and yell and get out all those energies. It can't be too healthy for them to be told to suppress their natural instincts. But we get so used to telling them "no" while we're inside that ;we start saying "no" when we're outside. Like tonight when Jeniene, Jim and I were walking around the neighborhood looking at the lights. They started to get a little loud and excited and I heard myself saying "okay, don't be so loud, blah, blah, blah...." Why can't kids be free to be loud and energetic while their outside? Well it's kind of hard since people live so close these days. Twenty feet to the nearest neighbors house.
Then there's the concept of tuning things out. Like the sound of a train that comes by the house every hour on the hour twenty-four hours a day. Or the wife who's yelling about the kids, or at the kids. Or the kids who are screaming, crying or yelling. Ueah soon you get used to anything, you just tune them out. But,, I don't think tuning out and getting used to something are really one in the same. They're two different mental actions. One requires mental action or awareness and the other doesn't really seem to require awareness. It just happens. I should say that's all right, but somehow talking to someone who isn't aware is't all that interesting - in fact it's rather superficial. But then it could be said that who am I to determine someone else's awareness level, et alone my own. A good point! The key perhaps is not too think if my way or another's way as being good or bad but just different. I shall do what I want to do. Righto! How did I get to this point? I won't take the time to read back over what I jsut said because it 's sort of dawdling, and right now I just want to write. Give me fucking space. The music has followed me out here into the kitchen, the grandfather clock struck ten metallic loud times. Who the hell wants to know what time it is every fifteen minutes at the sound of the gong?
Guthrie was ;good in hitting a nerve with me when he talked about people being tied to time. Although through the eyes of his mountain man, Boone, the farmer seemed a sorry sack tied to the seasons as he was. I don't find that so repulsive. In fact, I think the farmer's way of having different things to do at different times during the season would be interesting - more so than doing the same thing day after day, year after year.
I must have selective vision; however, because I don't think knowing what time of the day it is is very important. It's especially not very interesting.
28 December 1986
ReplyDeleteMaybe I'll change in the next few minutes, days, years, decades. I know I will. If I can remember this maybe I can be loser, more understanding of people as they are now.
It seems like when I'm going out or dating someone I get to feeling like a crazed animal. I feel like I need space. Why is that? I felt that way with Barb. When I got away from her I felt great. But then when I think back on memories with her I think that maybe I wasn't too awake, I was too judgemental, too uptight, structured, not honest with my self. But how did I get that way? This bugs me because I feel it coming on again. The job of compairing and contrasting my relationship to Barb with my relationship to Gary is too excercise-like for me. All I know is that when I would be away from Barb for awhie and we'd get together, I'd have fun but when we where together for a few days I'd get tired, I'd be less tolerant of mothering. When Gary and I were away from each other I missed him. When we got back together I was happy, but then as we were together for some time feelings of inadequacy, insecurity, resentment, confusion and hate would build up inside of me. I felt out of control, and thought he was trying to control things - me. Being in control hasn't been that big a deal to me before now. Honestly, now I guess I think that if someone's trying to control me. No that's not it. What I think it is is this: Gary likes to be in control of situations, people, etc. He has a framework that he works in. This is his way. I have/or had no framework. Things happen I move with them. This is/was my way. Neither is good or bad, I must believe this but I don't. Not honestly. I don't want someone/anyone controlling me. If someone wants to come along, fine. Bottom line - maybe I can do what I want, but unfortunately, or maybe not so unfortunately, other people may or may not be there with you - no me. I want to live, I want to fly. I don't want to be tied to other people with their loving chains. I love you my friends, and my relatives but I need to try my hand alone and succeed or fail. In the end success will be mine because even failure is success. And you all can ome and stay with me. This sex thing is a crock of shit sometimes. People use it to tell you that you mean more to them than anyone else. Sex is a beautiful sharing. But I don't want to grade my friends according to very best, best, just friends on account of sex.
January 11, 1987
ReplyDeleteIt's ten o'clock now. It's been a long time since I've written in this damned book. I've been reading, reading, reading; but no writing, writing. Forced to be a writer instead of sitting back and reading the great writers. Ah Ernie Hemingway. He says things that make me smile. Teh sky was clear blue today. The wind was cold. Too cold for me to walk in shorts with nothing on my feet along the beach. The sun was very bright. So much so that after eating breakfast at the Salty Dog (Daytona Beach, FL, in a marina on 48' Herman Frers designed Ketch owned by Diane and Bob and Captained by Terry with first mate Ann) the walk back home along the beach was one long squint. It could be that the restaurant was pretty dark inside. In fact that is what made it so bright outside. Bought a cup full of frozen shrimp for a dollar at the bait shop next to the Salty Dog. Asked many dumb questions about when is a good time to fish, what's the difference between shrimp you buy at a seafood market and shrimp you buy for bait. The truth is uncovered - there's no bleedin' difference. This could be a major discovery! A cat was sitting by the wall in the Salty Dog. A movie, "Jewel of the Nile" with Kathleen Turner and Michael Stewart (?) came on while we were having breakfast. It was a major battle for us to keep from watching it. Why didn't we want to watch it. Well, I don't think I didn't want to watch it. Speaking for myself, since the movie was being shown on TV and after statements I've made about TV I think it woulld be hypocritical to watch it. Talk about your fucked up reasonings. Why shouldn't I watch something if I want to watch it? Answer is becasue I think it takes away from things. Like the meal. The reasoning's not so messed up after all. I don't want to watch it because I'd rather have a conversation or concentrate on how the food tastes. There, there's nothing wrong with that. But then there's no wrong (or right) anyway. But everybody says there is. Who is this everybody? This everybody is this little voice inside my head that says it's the voice of everybody. Turn it off, click. It's the voice that wants to know if I'm gay just because I make meals and do laundry. It's the voice that I listen to when I like to get myself confused or depressed. Things are as they are. Why must labels be afixed to people, places, things? The question comes up over and over in my mind. I must answer it as I answer the question of whether I trust someone. Am I gay? No - that is the answer. The question need not be asked any more. It is self-defeating to bring up a question that has already been answered and, using a different answer, show how it may be effecting or causing certain behaviors. Answer question. Believe in my answer. Believe in my self.
The brown and white lounge chair on the beach sat all alone in the morning sun. Seeing it thre made me thiink I needed to sit in it. I walked up the beach ad turned it so that it faced the sun. The metal was rusty and one side bar was broken. I wiped the dew off with my socked hand. I sat down face to the sun and body protected from the wind. The ocean song was in my ear. The warm sun on my face - the only part of me not covered by material. My rear pulled to the broken side of the chair. And the wind sucked the warmth from my legs.
January 13, 1987
ReplyDeleteI'm feeling sad, restless and doubtful about myself.I've come to you the book, the paper and pen for consolation and guidance. Sometimes when I'm feeling low I think about the farm. My thought about it has gotten so stringent, staunch and not so happy. I'm bearind down on my deam with the harsh realities. Or, what I think are the realities. I guess though that the realities will happen once I get there. They cannot be forseen. Talk about being stuck on something. My wheels are spinning when it comes to thinking about the future. Why worry about it though? What will happen will happen, right? Doesn't the future - my future - need some input from me? What do I want to do? ave a slice of apple pie. That's what I want.
I think about my friend. Somedays I think that life would be much easier if I just went on, didn't plan a future with anyone. When I think about being by myself forever though. Well, when I think about being without my friend, I feel sad. And since I'm not with my friend now maybe that's why I feel sad.
Rough ink sketches on the opposite page of Ponce De Leon Inlet lighthouse and my no-skid coffee mug.
January 27, 1987
ReplyDeleteYes I have no appendix, I have no appendix today. No footnotes either. The winds are from the west to northwest today. Ann, Terry, and Steve are crossing from West Palm Beach to the Bahamas. There is not one single cloud in this morning sky. (While "Innisfree" was in drydock, Terry, Ann and I were living aboard. After several days of rather uncomfortable abdominal pain, I decided to go to a doctor ( no health insurance), Terry driving. When we got to the hospital and were told that my appendix had burst, next thing I know I was in a hospital bed and Terry was in the one beside me...he passed out when they told us the news. After the surgery and about 5 days in the hospital in Daytona for $5,000, Aunt Dorie and Uncle George drove up from Cocoa Beach to pick me up and bring me back to their place to recurperate before I joined "Innisfree" in Nassau, Bahamas. This is written at Aunt Dorie and Uncle George's)
Two groups of flaoting duck islands are outside in the river bobbing, bobbing. Do they have anchors out? I think they've stopped to discuss plans for the day. The great morning duck tribunal! Hear ye, hear ye. This morning's topics include locating good out-of-the-wind resting areas which are also free of those square colored things that move around without any rhyme or reason plus those two-legged things that are continually eaten and regurgitated by all sorts of square objects. Some having round things at their base adn others without the round things and never moving. What? One of the group's seems to have drifted downstream about 20 feet.
The flag is snapping and whipping about in the crisp wind. Yesterday evening around 5:00 an older man in a yellow jacket came out to the pier just below the patio here with his fishing rod. He made a few casts almost without energy.
Try to get a female crew. Someone you know would be great. (This request from the Captain and first mate of "Innisfree" to me.
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteJanuary 30, 1987
ReplyDeleteRecovery is still under way. The afternoon sun felt good on my cuts. It feels like the rays are going into the cuts and causing new cells to come forth knitting the ununified area together.
Smoke, black and heavy is coming from the northwest. More forest fires or brush fires. What causes them? Heat/flame I think. Obviously, but why now? It could be they were in the way of a carelessly thrown match or cigarette.
The boaters on the dock below are cleaning up their machines. One talks of having some of his boat's belongings stolen. A gas tank, I think. "You'd think people wold have something better to do than to steal." Why do people take things that don't belong to them? I remember working at Schmidt Brothers Produce one day and a woman in her late fifties or early sixties came up to the counter with her goods and talked of her friendship with Rich (manager) and other things which I can't remembe now. Then after she paid for her veggies, she mosied back to where the baskets belonged and returned hers. Then as I was waitng on another customer she casually walked by the garlic and nabbed one without batting an eyelash then out the door she went. The first time I had experiences a shoplifter. I was suprised to see this stately woman lower herself to steal such an inexpensive item. I wonder if she did it for the thrill, or if it was a truely needed item. Is she a bad person because she stole? I guess one way to look at the situation is to say that she is not good or bad. No judgement is required. She just committed a crime. Should more analysis be required? I don't think so. Does anything matter? In the end we are all doomed to death.
COWS IN THE FIELD WITH THEIR CHEESE
YOUR FINGER IS STUCK IN MY ANUS
MY FINGER IS VISITING URANUS
THE FLAGPOLE IS DOING CARTWHEELS TO AMUSE THE RESTLESS
CROWDS OF FAT WOMEN AND SKINNY MEN.
A POGO STICK IS A WORTHWHILE TOOL OF TRANSPORTATION
BECAUSE YOU'RE BOUNCING IN AN UNCOMMON WAY.
PEOPLE SHOULD DRIVE WITH FINGERS IN THEIR NOSES SO THAT
ASSHOLES MAY HAVE A REST.
LIVING ON TOP OF AN M&M IS HARD BECAUSE YOUR WHOLE WORLD
CAN MELT IN YOUR SWEATY HAND - NO TRUTH IN ADVERTISING.
TOES AS THE KEEPEERS OF OUR GRAY MATTER.
2 February 1987
ReplyDeleteORGANIZATION
904-253-8921
Call Dr. Harrington to make appointment - get directions from I-95.
Merritt Island
ACE HARDWARE - bunji clips (big black ones), bug screen, stainless steel eyes, wooden cloth pins.
ZAYRE - 100 speed 35 mm color print 36 exposure, flowere seeds, petroleum jelly, shaving cream, notebook.
DEPARTMENT OF MOTOR VEHICLES 3:00 P.M.
Registration for Jeep.
MIKE"S SISTER - Ann? 453-3163 4:00 P.M.
Glasses for Terry - none to be found
Leave Ann's bike
MIKE'S Before bridge to Cocoa 5:00 P.M.
Upstairs 14 Myrtle Ave. 452-6689.
Tool boxes, drop off pots in Terry's truck, leave envelope, stamped and addressed for medical bills
DIVE SHOP - Brad, across from credit union.
Snorkel for Terry and price equipment for me: Fins $52, Snorkel $25, Mask $50, Booties $39.
Call sails by Morgan
Call Brookes and gatehouse 914-698-9330
Impeller (speed meter) and mounting screws (2 sets) part no. 110-18, Hercules system - 190 also plastic plugs for mounting holes (1 set)
MALL
Bookstore - fish cookbook, fish identification.
Record Store - Jimmy Buffet, Al Jarreau, "Hands Down" - Artist?, Windam Hill - A. Dorie, TDK - 90 minute tapes
Candy Store - box of chocolates
Jeweler/Sears/Penny's - $30 watch, 2 different times plus hours, minutes, seconds all at once
SCOTTY'S - flower seeds
COOP - Cocoa Beach - walnuts, oats, honey, sunflower seeds.
3 February 1987
ReplyDelete10:40 a.m. Block North and Across, 320 Glydenmorris
Noon - Paridise Isle Sea Plane Base
Gas stations - Cigarettes $10/carton.
3:30 p.m. Harbor Square Marina - talk to Duncan
Spare ignition key for "Innisfree", order "Sea Lube" 3 or 4 quarts
4:00 Hunting Store, 1 box 12 gauge, oob, bug repellant, 1 box slugs.
TAKE TO BAHAMAS:
Seacook - received
Velcro
Water jugs in truck
snorkelling gear ~$200
fish books - $39.80
Stainless steel eyes 1/4" to 3/4" across eye
shotgun shells
cigarettes $40
bug repellant/shaving c./pb and j/notebook $9.30
bug screens
film $20
ignition key - received
tapes $46.61
clothes pins
watch $30
Sea Lube 3-4 qts.
2 pair eyeglasses (Terry)
impellers and mounting screws (2 sets), i set of plastic plugs for mounting holes $65
February 3, 1987 : Daytona Beach Day
ReplyDeleteLeave $70 for Aunt Dorie to pay for impeller.
MERRITT ISLAND
8:30 Department of Motor Vehicles, registration
DAYTONA BEACH
10:40 Dr. Harrington - one block north of hospital, 320 Glydenmorris,
904-253-8921
Velcro ($0.08/inch) - pass hospital on right go to end of road, turn right at light. Look for plaza on l.h.s. with hardware, $ General Store and Sewing store, get manila envelopes
Dive shop on A1A- Port Orange
Port Orange Post Office - mail bills to Mom ($5,000 for appendectomy)
MERRITT ISLAND
Call Shirlee Wise 783-4900
Drop off envelope at Mike's
Harbor square marina at 4:00 pick up "Sea Lube" - don't have, 453-2464
Sea Lube made for marine toilets - Brevard Marine 530 Banana River Drive,
Ace Hardware/Zayre - watch, bunji clips, bug screen, stainless steel eyes, clothes pins, film, flower seeds.
Hunting Store
Dive Shop
Sails By Morgan 452, Pick up cover and check. 14 Myrtle Ave.
February 4, 1987
Cocoa Beach Police Station - permit for shells
Eckerd Drugstore - watch, contac solution, nutmeg, vanilla extract.
Call Harbor Square Marina about "Sea Lube"
Make: Granola and Patty's Potato Cabbage Bake
Work on Terry's truck
Janet and kick's to copy article and drop off windsurfer accessories
Call Ann to let her know about Janet and Dick coming to pick up sander
Bob - 5 minutes 783-2887
6 cups oats, 1 3/4 cups nuts, 1 cup seeds.
Outlays:
Post office $52.89
Travel Agent $52.00
Halifax Hospital Charges: laboratory, etc, $215.25
Evac Ambulance $157.00
Dr. Harrington $935.00
Bob:
Houston Flight # Continental, Miami 4:50, 7:00
Bahamas Air - Nassau 8:00 or Ft. Lauderdale Sea Plane 8:30 Friday
Georgetown 3:00 Sunday
Ft. Lauderdale then to Atlanta on Eastern
Diane and Bob 12th - 19th April 1987
GREAT EXUMA
Flt. Georgetown from Nassau 2:30 Bahamas Air Flight # UP 752
TWA, Kennedy 9:15 Nassau
Pan Am Kennedy 9:00 Nassau 12:00
Delta/LaGuardia
Aero Flt #335 Miami to Georgetown
Brevard Marine Service 520 - on left
Ira Bickham
Banana River Marine Supply call Doug
COCOA BEACH
ReplyDeleteTravel agent: Check fares: NY Air - L.I. McArthur to Ft. Lauderdale then to Georgetown. Also Nassau to Georgetown. Ask about customs and immigration.
Hunting Store
Post office/library - IRS, W4 forms for Terry several copies. Mail order $50.
DAYTONA BEACH - velcro
FLIGHT for me
Orlando, Florida Express 11:25 to 1:35 Thrus. Feb. 5
Cocoa Beach Shuttle 9:00 - 10:15 Orlando. Meet @ Cocal Beach Hilton
Permit for shells here - every boarding place show permit.
No propane allowed on plane.
Sue Butler (914) 266-3511
Calls made at Aunt Dorie and Uncle George's:
ReplyDelete1/26 9045551212 (2)
1/26 9042538921
1/26 9047674462 (2)
1/28 7038601659 @ 9:10
1/30 5162834000@ 4:15
1/31 9143512542@ 2:15
1/31 5162837947 @2:30
2/1 5126596944 @ 5:20
2/2 9146989330 @10:10
2/2 9042538921 @ 10:15
2/2 5162834000 @ 10:40 am
2/2 9142663511 @8:35 pm
2/2 9148898291 @ 8:40 pm
7834900 Air Land and Sea Shirlee Wise
Georgetown - Cayman
2/2 5162837947 9:30
2/3 7038601659 9:52
Things for Gary to bring:
Cigarettes
Sailing gloves
2/4 7139619000 9:30
2/4 9142663511 10:55
Rifle and Guns must be registered with Customs before leaving
Hold on to receipt (no guarantee)
If not registered must go through alcohol, tobacco and firearms: 4 to 6 mnths upon returning to U.S. or in Virgin Islands try to get them registered.
Inspectr Rigney Cape Canaveral Customs oversees hazardous waste
February 5th, 1987
ReplyDeleteThe running errands has stopped. Silly boy! My youth is evident. I thought that I was done running yesterday. I stopped by the Cocoa Beach Police Department to get a permit for the two boxes of shotgun shells. "What! You don't know what I'm talking about? But the travel agent called Orlando Airport and they said I should go to the police station for ammunition permit."
"I'm sorry we can't help you."
Walk, walk, walk to travel agent. "Hi, I went to the police station and they said they didn't know what I was talking about. They had no such thing. Could you call Orlando Airport again and ask them what I need?"
"okay."
"Thanks, Shirlee Wise."
"Oh you need to go to the Custom's Office in Port Canaveral and get a permit from them.
"Okay." Drive, drive, drive, traffic lights, honk horn at pin head who pulls out in front of me because I don't know why. Get to Custom's Office tell them my amusing story.
They shake heads, "We don't have anything for ammunition."
"What? " I tell story again, "Can you call travel agent to get number of man at Orlando Airport so you can ask him?"
"Okay. dial, dial, dial.....this is bullshit!" after officer is on hold for 10 minutes with Orland airport. Finally, "as long as ammo weighs less than 5 lbs its not considered hazardous. You don't need any papers."
Yeah, huzza, huzza. Errands continue...day closes.
February 5th, 1987 continued....
ReplyDeleteMet airport shuttle at Cocoa Beach Hilton. A driver in the front, four women and me in the back. Conversation breaks to an easy pace as the last woman, an elderly lady from Carlisle, PA gets on. Talk about travelling, destinatins, etc. gives way to discussion of poor living conditions in Ft. Lauderdale, Miami, even Melbourne. "All the windows in my beach house were shot out while it was empty and we were trying to sell it" says one well poised woman. "Three boys from the area did it but since we didn't witness the incident, I couldn't take them to court." This women looked business. She seemed aware of what was going on, but rather burned and hardened by her bad experiences with youth and minorities. Somehow the conversation drifted to sink holes in Orlando, and how Florida is made of coralline rock, high water table, etc, etc. Much of this conversation was contributed by a woman who was taking the shuttle to Orlando Airport to catch a bus to visit someone in Orlando. This woman was a major contributor to the next discussion on tightwad parents. Reminded me of Aunt Doris talking about Grandma. And here I thought A.D. was the one and only. Beautiful in her own humanity. Hearing this other woman talk so freely of the injustices of her father's frugality and her almost opposite attributes of altruisim made me somewhat queesy. After the discussion on Medicade the business woman and eldely women broke off to converse with one another. And the "giving" woman tried to have a discussion with the woman beside her, but wasn't successful. I think the woman sitting beside her was almost as wary of entering a verbal banterring with this woman as I had been with any of the discussions. I looked forward to getting off the shuttle once I saw the signs for the airport.
More beuaracracy at the Airport! I don't get boarding pass because I must have a return trip ticket. "But, I'm meeting a sailboat and we're sailing to the Virgins then bringing the boat back to the States in May."
"I'm sorry you must have a return tip ticket."
"Okay." Have fun with woman selling me ticket when she asks when I want to come back.
February 7th, 1987
ReplyDeleteSecond day out of Nassau/New Providence. After motoring most of the day yesterday we were able to put up sail for 2 - 3 hrs. in the afternoon. Stayed at Highborne Cay - the northern end of the Exumas. The water in the Cay was so clear that you could see the bottom anytime you checked. The boats looked like they were suspended in mid air. A leopard rayy flew by our air mooring soon after we arrived as I was putting away anchor rodes and straightening up topsides - a duty I find satisfying.
The wind has been stronger today and from a favorable direction. "Thank you." There are a lot of high clouds in the sky. I'm feeling a little sleepy - psychological, I think. I had to get up a few times last night. Once to close hatches when the rain started, another time to adjust the fenders and open the hatches and finally to close the hatches because it had started to rain again. Besides the interruptions, I slept soundly.
Boat Expenses:
ReplyDeleteDebits
184.00
65.00
5.23
7.71
18.39
37.90
28.72
29.80
20.16
6.06
----------
402.97
Food Expenses:
11.75
12.47
22.24
1.87
30.45
---------
78.78
48.19
----------
126.97
402.97
- 187.00
------------
215.97
- 48.79
-----------
167.78 Boat
Credits
187.00
February 21st, 1987
ReplyDeleteHere I am in Georgetown, Exuma, Bahamas. The sun is hihg and warm, the wind she's strong and the water's blue and wavy. My love left for home yesterday. It's like he's still here though because I'm left with many things to think about.
I love Gary but he doesn't believe me. My actions aren't conveying my feelings. He feels like he could have been any old acquaintance.
When we windsurfed, I didn't stay with him so he felt like he was always trying to catch up. Gary felt like he had to make all the suggestions about doing anyting - looking at the ruins, taking a walk around Stocking Island, fishing, snorkelling.
Gary thinks I'm not too independent here. I think that too - once again being supported by my family.
I am hurt by these things/thoughts as I mull them over. I know they were from the heart and I stand quilty as accused. So what's my next move.
Next move
Next move
Next move
Next move
Next move
What is the importance of independence? Must I leave as soon as possible, or should I stay and fulfill my obligation? What obligation?
I haven't earned this. I haven't really earned anything in my life. It's all been given to me hasn't it? Well, now that I think about it maybe...If you're a good boy you can do....Be a good boy and Santa will bring your presents. I've been a good person because I've been rewarded. Rewarded with: things (?), good experiences (?) Have I been a good boy because I've wanted too as an end in itself or as a means to an end? Possibly a bit of both.
The $50 money order I sent Gary for Christmas was insulting. Imagine if you were to get one. That's pretty shallow. So would a gift not carefully thought out. What a tacky person I am. And here I sit on my brother-in-law's boat being paid $500 a month to live.
I've got to get off my ass and quit this parasitic living, stand up for myself. Support myself and pay back my debts.
February 22, 1987
pen sketch of "Innisfree"
REMEMBER THIS:
1. "Oliver Wiswell" - Kenneth Roberts
2. New Bern, North Carolina
Morning thoughts while my mind sored unencumbered by its usual mental chains. Already thoughts have receeded so that I must stretch the mental band to catch them before they slide into the abyss.
I think I've begun to acquaint money with affection. Call to mind the giving of a money order to my best friend because I wanted to release myself of the responsibility of looking/spending time thinking about a Christmas gift.
Another thought before it leaves. Speak of the things that matter. Keep eyes open. Think of what you like doing so that you don't drift. If there are things I want to do and things others want to do without thinking about what I'd like to do, I end up feeling controlled - or out of cntrol. I guess I do like feeling that I have some control after all.
The idea of "quiet air lawn cutting" comes to mind again. I'll start writing to people in Southampton to find out about interest.
PEOPLE TO WRITE TO ABOUT THEIR INTEREST:
Larry Liddle, Ann Luke, Linda Carlsrhue, Betty Glending, Jim Moore, Pike Realty.
Rough pen sketch of Terry, Ann, Sue seated, reading.
February 28, 1987
ReplyDeleteHow nice it would be to go sailing. I've been sitting, reading, working on this 48' motorhome for three weeks, adn this past week we've been anchored in the same spot.
I'm wondering if Terry thinks this crew is so inexperienced that we can't go anywhere unless all conditions are almost calm. Maybe he doesn't. It could be that the reason we've stayed here at Red Shank Keys is that we were waiting for Sue, and the winds have been pretty strong ever since she's gotten here. It would be nice to sail this boat. The last time we had the sails up was a little less than two weeks ago.
Now we're trying to clean up the boat and develop some fishing skills although I haven't fished once since we all went when the big G. was here.
This little voice inside my head goes round and round over the same ground. Do I want to stay? Independence? Blah, blah, blah. Turn it off and see the beauty and funny situations abounding all around me. I'm here and I'm going to stay here and enjoy it until May rolls around. No counting of days. Live it up cause you only live once.
3 March 1987
ReplyDeleteGail Halverstrom (?)
Knox County near Thomaston
Greater and Lesser Sprucehead
Camden - boats
Damraxcotta - off of Rte 1, Pamequod Point
Ferryboat to Vinylhaven Island, Accadia National Park
Rockland, ME
Working, fishing town. Mailboat to Monhegan Island
Looks like I'm working my way out of my mental maze. This time it took me a good...I can't even remember how many days I've been figuring/and possessed with the notion of leaving this boat in two weeks. It's a strong one, it is. Comes in and clouds my thought. Clings to each brain fiber and conducts them in a path that causes me to miss my suroundings. Three sunrises have gone by where I've been physically present but not spiritually.
A thought and discussion of insecurity has started recently. I'm glad for this discussion because I'm able to recognize past situations in which insecurities were controlling my actions.
Sue and I went snorkelling this afternoon. We took the dinghy to the reef where Terry found the Conchs and Gary speared the Jack. I found a conch and Sue found and speared a lobster. Only problem with the lobster was that it was about seven inches long. Poor guy - right through the head. I think Sue felt bad about spearing him. She's not the kind that goes crazy over spearing animals.
Going back to the first thought...why was I pondering, wondering, telling myself I should leave? Trying to gain control over a situation where I felt forced into getting a femal companion when I already have a companion.
Thinking about employment for summer and future. Proving to Gary that I am working towards independence.
"Blue Highways" William Least Heat Moon.
p 192.
"Other than to amuse himself, why should a man pretend to know where he's going or to understand what he sees?"
Book of the Hopi
Emergence - and drawing of the symbol for emergence
"With variations, the symbol appears among other Indians of the Americas. Its lines represent the course a person follows on his 'road of life' as he passes through birth, death, rebirth. Human existence is essentially a series of journeys, and the emergence symbol is a kind of map of the wandering soul, an image of a process; but it is also, like most Hopi symbols and ceremonies, a reminder of cosmic patterns that all beings move in."
Two rules of the Spider Grandmother:
"Don't go around hurting each other" and
"Try to understand things."
Crisfield, Maryland, Eastern Shore
Smith Island, near Crisfield
Tanger Sound
Oceans - December 1986 "Bringing Up Oysters"
Max Chambers - Flomax Hatchery
Don Webster - Sea Grant Extension Agent
Don Meritt - Aquaculture Specialist.
A thought comes to mind as I'm reading "Small is Beautiful- Economics As If People Mattered" I should only be thinking about what I'm reading but my mind wanders. I wrote Gary and told him of my plans to be in Southampton for the summer. Now that I think about my writing. I wonder if he'll think I'm not being independent by talking of sharing a place for the summer with he and Rich. Once again they do the ground-work of finding a place, then along comes a friend expecting to share. Bad move. I'll write adn tell him my thoughts.
Simple pen sketch of Stocking Island.
It's March 9th (1987) almost the tenth and my thoughts won't let me sleep. The raindrops are kitting the deck, mast, boom and hatches - good sleep inducers, but my mind still races. I succumb, get up and write them down.
ReplyDeleteI'm thinking about plans for this summer. Where I'll live. I want to get in touch with relatives and find out if they have an interest in my "Quiet Air Lawn Cutting Service." I'd also like to get in touch with farms in Southampton or East Hampton - anywhere on the Est End and find out if they could use a hand. Moving into experience with something I'm drawn toward. Shatterer of myths come to me. Let me see the realities of every day farming, every day work. I want to support myself and pay Mom back for the addendectomy plus pay Diane and Bob for the money they've given me for being on "Innisfree."
Now I want to catch up on the living I've been doing here. Today we snded and put the first coat of varnish on the starboard cockpit coaming. This moring Terry and I put the mizzen and mainsails up. We took them down Friday night because the winds were gusting to 30 knots. The high winds were causing the zipstop to vibrate in such a way that it was i resonance with either the standing riggin or the spars causing the whole boat to shudder as if it wer trying to stay warm in a cold breeze.
The mosquitos have been bad the past three nights. They chae us below decks at about sundwon and cause us to shut our hatches and doors to forward and aft cabins thus rendering them mosquito proof. The fans run all night in the cabins to keep us from suffocating from the stale, humid, sleep air.
Mary and Randy Bruce shared their knowledge and keen hunting skills with us Saturday. They speared two lobsters and a Grouper, then gave us a lesson in cleaning lobster and conch. The conch I found (or it let me find it). So we had cracked conch, steamed lobster, barbecued grouper and rice. A delicious meal even if I did cook it myself. Everybody else did the catching.
Randy and Mary are on a catamaran - "Celtic Cross." One hull is a workshop containing two bicycles, a little work bench, tools and aft, a bunk for two. The port hull has their living quarters of a bunk, library/living room/galley and forward of that (I didn't see) a map room.
They've taught us how to dry bananas, clean conch and lobster. Plus they've given endless stories of their experiences sailing, building their boat, fishing, living, you name it.
Randy talks a lot about doing things in the nude. Mary has a T-shirt that says "Sail Naked" in big letters from left to right breast. They talk about sex in a casual way about thirty percent of the time. It's funny. I like most of their "I's." Randy showed us a picture of Mary holding a big lobster - both were nude, but the lobster was held in such a way that the spines covered Mary's breasts and the tail covered her (I can't think of the right word) lower puss. Mary has two cats: Barsum and Sterling.
Mary seems to take a good bit of verbal abuse from Randy. She seems to be the giver of the relationship. But who am I to say - an outsider looking at two people who I might see twice or three times a week. No credibility, drop it.
Back to me again. Something I have to remind myself of so that when I get into the situation, I don't let it confuse me. A lot of times when I'm with Gary and other people I feel panicky, the true word is insecure. I've felt that way but not knows what I was feeling which made me feel more panicky, and insecure. The tail chases the dog round, round and round. The race chases the rat. If I can be aware of this and not lose sight, experiences with him will be less like a rollercoaster. Not that rollercoasters are bad. It's just nice to know why I've gotten on the ride and that I can decide not to go on the ride if that's what I choose.
March 9, 1987 continued...
ReplyDelete(Remembering Gary's earlier visit)
Sitting on the back of "Innisfree" putting heavier lines on two fishing poles, Gary and I worked on the project, swallowed hot chocolate, talked , and ate granola.
Gary red with a day of sun plus bilt up anger. I could see it as soon as I got back on "Innisfree" after a windsurfing expedition with Terry.
Eating lunch at Freda's: Conch chowder, conch fritters, peas and rice and V-8. Ann, Tery and I. The last meal Gary ate with us before we walked him to the airport. My heart was dragging in the road behind us as we walked away from the airport - now only three.
The fourth shift of anchor watch was Gary's. The Long Island (Bahamas) sailing trip. Large swells rolled by all night long. The baot rocked, dishes fell. Rain started around two o'clock a.m. I got up and watched the sky with Gary at 6 or 6:30. The low rain-filled clouds moved swiftly to the west. He couldn't see the sunrise, but there were holes in the clouds - each hole getting bigger. Then to the West - two rainbows - one strong in color and well-defined, the other barely visible. A beautiful time.
Waitng for the laundry to finish after I had just told Ann I was tired of her Attitude. I made her cry. I was sorry. Gary and I sitting undr the deck of Sam Grey's restaurant atop the laundry building waiting for the water pressure to increase.
The tea with rum cake after wonton soup and chicken-fried rice at Pieces of Eight is doing this mind racing.
March 13th, 1987
ReplyDeleteI tell you what, my mind isn't very imaginative. Alwasy calling on the same rerecorded tapes, over and over again like a favored tape or album. I get tired of hearing them.
The Gary tape has been playing again. The doubting one. The one that tells me I'm not doing this or not doing that. The one that talks of my immaturity, competitiveness, selfishness, unimaginiteve. It digs in and really makes me believe what it's saying. Why do I buy into it?
Because of course some of it's true, proabably all of it. But they aren't the whole Craig. Just parts - good with bad. I squelch, bury and short change the good by listening to the bad. The goodness is being strangled and stiffled. My spirit is tied to concrete blocks, gagged, wrapped in inch thick, no-rust chains and dropped overboard into the bottomless pits of the ocean. Good bye. How dramatic.
I'm still here able to soar, glide, imagine and draw. I am building my own concrete blocks and encasing my spirit in them in the name of other people.
I have a scab and keep picking, picking at it. "Stop picking your scab," you say.
$8 for a take-out plate of Peas and Rice. Terry, Sue and I were suprised. We're not too astute business people.
About ten days ago we decided to go fishing. The wind was strong; the sky, cloudy. We must go fishing, pack, pack, pack: snorkelling gear, windsurfer board, the whole works. We head out. Just as we round the corner and head into the swells that were whipped up by a day of wind's from the east, we decide to head back. Ann in her foul weather gear wants to ride on the board in tow. We head back to the boat. That was my day to cook.
Dinner at 10:00 p.m. anyone? Why of course, don't you know it's fashionable. Oh, rather, how silly of me to forget. The desert was put in first - not enough room for it and the lasagna. Lasagna takes a long time to cook. So, we have desert first! Yeah. I've not done that before. Pear upside down cake for the backward's day. Then lasagna is served at 9:45 amid yaws and rousings to wake Terry and Sue out of their deep sleeps. Ann had already given up and gone to bed. Things are not as normal as they seem.
My flip flops blew out today in front of the library. Fate strikes hard. I was feeling pretty low and asked on of the ladies, the one with the yellow and white squares on her dress, and the green Bahamas visor, at the strawmarket for a piece of string to fix the old freind. She pulled out needle and weaving thread and did a few loops to secure the strap to the flop. A thight squeeze for the toes, but glad to be flip-flopping along. Blister develops and I break down and buy a new pair at the Sandpiper. They have potential! Now I just have to pull my stuck toes (due to the open skin from blister) to put the new pair on. But good!
Two letters from Lisa Hanscome. Thanks to Mom and Diane. She is doing a great deal. I envy her. (She's doing work on the Great Barrier Reef in Australia). It sounds like she is really living well. A true Joan Livingston Seagull. I feel rather small and insignificant in the light of her stories. Why?
That's a hard question to answer. I know what she's dong sounds so very exciting; whereas what I'm doing is rather common-place. Being in the Bahamas on a beautiful sailboat isn't commonplace. This is true. I'm devaluing my experience. Why?
Another hard question. Parasitic lifestyle again? Tape no. 26: "My paraasitic life" The words go something like this:
"Oh you're such a parasite.
You haven't lived without a bite.
All has been handed to you.
You make me sick.
You make me blue...
Blah, blah, blah....
March 23rd, 1987
ReplyDeleteGood morning there, How do you do on this most moderate of days? Sitting at anchor in Elizabeth Harbor, the sun has arrived, the wind has settled. What a lovely day for a sail.
From my morning perch in the cockpit I can see white water throught the morth end of the harbor - waves crashing, smashing, dashing themselves to a climatic and utterly dramatic death. A flurry of white cascades, tumbling, droping, balling back into the crisp blue surrounding the rocks. Shamed in its descent because it wasn't the one that brought down the stoic rocks of time. Yet more waves line up to continue their kamikazi-like assault. Each knowing that it will be the one that has obliterated the obstacle that has blocked waves of many generations. Does it know, after the fact, that the rock still stands? I chose that it does not. What a terrible death to know that your life's ambitions were nothing more than a misunderstanding of the situation.
Perhaps I, in my infinite wisdom, don't see the true situation. The wave has flung itself into the rocks lossening or even, knocking off a chunk of the rock. So it is not in vain for the wave. It has lived, dreamed, done and died.
Does each wave have it's own idea as it builds, rises and travels across the water? Not knowing that their fate is driving them to be dashed on the rocks, or if they are not pushing themselves, moving from the heart, they shrink, slow and drop into the never-changing mirror like glass of an undistrubed sea. Perhaps the waves that crash against the shores are the one who have lived and dreamed not caring that their lives and dreams may change. I think the rocks are there for the waves to crash upon - a noble end to a noble or not so noble life. Who will know if the waves led a noble life? Who will know if the waves want to crash upon the rocks? No one. But I can pretend.
March 29th, 1987
ReplyDeleteGood points about the boat: (Would be good for house, too.)
1. Door that can open under counter where trash is kept.
2. Using dried milk.
3. pan bread - Mary's contribution.
Gunther, a German-Canadian, is sailing in the Bahamas on his 23' sailboat. We hailed him over Thursday night to join us for dinner. He's sailed in the Bahamas for 15 years; usually two months a year.
To support his vacationing he works as a consulting surveyor for about four months a year and has the rest of the year off to travel. Nepal and India are two of several of the places Gunther's travelled through by bicycle. Next year he's headed to Indonesia to visit his daughter who's teaching computer science at a school there.
Simple is the word that I would project on this man, Gunther. About 5' 9" tall, light brown hair, a short, graying beard shaved to a little bit above the jawline. Square, wire-rimmed glasses with thick lenses. He ate quickly; probably because we were firing questions at him right and left. A very precise man, he chose his words carefully and used a bare minimum. Matter-of-fact.
He spoke of Belize, Guatemala, and Honduras. The American Indians and their different attitudes toward travellers. He told us of India and how people use less to live their lives.
Good points/habits to remember about boat:
4. Clean dingy after using. This would be a good habit to continue when I use a car, or ride my bicycle.
Next two pages, sketches:
ReplyDelete1. Dinghy
Options:
Should hold a minimum of four plus space for water, groceries, etc.
Rowing station
Ability to sail well
Pad on transom to mount engine (which won't have to be used.)
See-through bottom or portion
Ability to store oars, mast, boom, tiller, rudder, sails (?) undeer gunwale.
2. Diagram w/ dimensions of aft end of "Innisfree."
April 2, 1987
ReplyDeleteFound Guenter and "Chega" (my bro-in-the-law mentioned that the name means "enough" in Portugese) off the bow of "Innisfree" aw we came back from morning filled with laundry, provisioning for charters, mail and talking to Cliff Dean.
I felt like a schoolboy, dawdling before approaching the cute little red-haired girl with green eyes, as I unpacked the dinghy and was egged on to go talk to the man about his boat.
We talked, he gave me papers and a payment contract. I brought them back to "Innisfree," talked it over with Terry and then he and I rowed back to "Chega." We got a full, inclusive tour of the 23' South Coaster (I think that's the trade name) an Alberg (Naval Architect) design. The boat looks great from far awy, but up close heer character lines may make others think twice. Beauty, simplicity - a year younger than me, she makes me smile, glide, soar with jubilation.
Little plans come to mind as I think of her. Cleaning out her lazarette, sanding her little bit of brightwork and varnishing it to a healthy hue. Saving cottage cheese containers for varnishing, storing. I think about a note book - "Chega's Diary - The Hassler Years." I'll include expenditures, trips, work done.
Does everyone start off with these grand ideas?
I think about the trip across to Florida. I'll have time to wait for the right conditions. It worries me a little, but if the conditions are right it should go well. Just wait for the right conditions. 2' 10" draft.
7 April 1987
ReplyDeleteSpent $2500 for "Chega"
Of that: $2,000 - Terry's money
$ 500 - Diane and Bob's money
I've got to get away from here before I become any more of a parasite. I'm spending money before I even have it. Drifting along, influenced by others - take an active role in your life man. this boat's as good as sold when I get it back to the US.
Why this sudden turn around?
1. Too many things.
2. I DON'T WANT TO OWE ANY MORE THAN ALREADY.
"Chega" log:
Monday, 6 April
Sailed from Peace and Plenty to basin at Stocking Island. Picked up camping gear on beach, plus windsurfers on lee side. Sailed southeast along Stocking Island to shallow protected cove.
Tueaday, 7 April
Cleaned out lazarette
Sue worked on the galley
Threw out: fold-up oven, tan rug, dishes
Sailed to Peace and Plenty, luncheoned at Fredda's
Sailed to Stocking Island, looking for "Innisfree," stopped in the lee of Goat Cay. Saw "Innisfree" looking for us so we saided down to Peace and Plenty then motored into Kidd Cove for the evening.
Dinner with the Millers, Ann, Sue and Terry.
Wednesday, 8 April
Up at sunrise, sailing to work on "Innisfree." Terry and Ann went sailing on "Chega" to regroup while Sue and I worked on "Innisfree's" the port toe rail. After dinner ~ 9:00, Sue and I sailed back to Stocking Island because winds and other worries induced by Terry made the idea of a peaceful night's sleep where we were a fantasy.
Thursday 9 April, 1987
Sailed to "Innisfree" - there were hardly any winds so it was more like drifting. Continued sanding toe rail. Winds picked up during the dy so we moved "Chega to Flamingo Bay.
Friday, 10 April, 1987
Worked on "Innisfree," barbaque.
18 April, 1987
ReplyDeleteBob, Tom, Karen and Diane left for home this morning. A week has slipped by that quickly, effortlessly. The rest of us spent the day cruising southern Great Exuma and Little Exuma in the rental car.
We visited Rolletown and talked to Horace and Hester Rolle. Hester was doing her was in two galvanized tubs with an old-fashioned washboard. Old-fashioned to me, but pretty in fashion considering Rolletwoners don't have electricity. but not to worry, the convenience of electric will soon be with them. Not to mentione the luxuries of television and refrigeration.
Hester sat on the ground, feet on either side of her washing tub, rubbing her clothes then Horace's one at a time. She wore a polyester type shiny dress with dark colored pattern, a head band and a relatively new straw hat with a bue band around the top. Her face was wrinkled with high cheek bones. Her smile was easily summoned and when she did smile a gold filling on a forward upper right tooth shone in the bright sun. At her feet a little distance away a fire of leaves in a metal dish. She was burning some leaves of the fig tree that was shading her to keep away the "no see-ums" that have proliferated since Thursday's heavy rain.
Both Horace and Hester had been married before. She is now beautiful at 68 and he happy and willing to talk at 89. There was a glimmer or twinkle in his cloudy brown eyes as he talked about how they'll use electricity once it gets to them. He told us about WWI and work at a shell dump, I think. How the bombs going off all the time were a nuisance and how he would ask people, "Halt! Who goes there?" and would wait for the reply, "friend." He told us about breaking rocks and their use in making cement become concrete. He showed us his chickens - there were three or four in a wooden house about a yard square and a foot and a half off the ground. He showed us the feed he bought for them that was shipped from Nassau. And he gave us a drink of water from the spigot on the side of his house. It made me happy to be in Rolle Town talking to Hester and Horace. Smoking fig leaves keeping the bugs away, sheep, chickens and goats moaning, braaing and chickening in the background. A beautiful town on a hill overlooking Man O War Cay and Exuma Sound.
Then to Forbes Hill for a drink at Oswell's don't remember the name of the bar. Then on to Williamstown. On the way we picked up Harold Sear and his son, on their way home from checking the lawns of some houses. He talked of politics and had a loud clear voice.
Riding in the car began taking its toll, slipping me into a comatose state of gradually increasing unawareness. The wine from the grocery store in Williamstown didn't help matters in the slightest. It probably increased my stupor. Now I'm a sea cucumber aboard a boat sitting in "the great chair" with pen and book in hand.
The boat's rocking from side to side because we're close to the government docks and subject to the wake from every dinghy that passes. But good!
2 May 1987
ReplyDeleteDevil's Cay - The Berry Islands
My mind has been its crafty self in eluding concentration time to write in this journal. No discipline what so ever. I've caught it this time though, it's still in a haze since I just woke up from a nap intended to help me catch up on sleep that I missed last night. Why do I need to catch up on sleep? Well, we're headed north. We left Georgetown last Tuesday and stopped at Galliot Cut. Motored Wednesday to Wax Cay, motored then sailed to a point on the Grand Bahama Bank about 6 - 8 miles south west of New Providence. Sailed yesterday with hardly any wind during the day, decided to sail all night for a practice session. Winds picked up towards sunset, made the Berry Islands a little after sunset. Winds still stiffening. Sue and I had first watch until 1 a.m. By the end of our watch we were 8 miles off the Abacos and the winds had dropped down to about 11-12 knots. Woke up around 7 and we were approaching the Berry's again. Dejavu? It took us a good hour to anchor as the anchors didn't want to stay where we put them. But finally we got them down and dug in deeply then settled down to our reviving naps. The water is brown. Maybe it'll settle out. I'll drink it brown or not.
Yes my mind has had some dramatic and wholly righteous traps set for me to become entangled in. Finding fault with everyone except, of course, wonderful me. It's a sinister thing, this mind trying to suck me under at each moment that I loose awareness of the games it plays and the stuff it carries along to protect it's precious self.
It has made up reasons why in this situation, being on the boat, I don't have time to write to anyone - I haven't written to friends, except one, relatives, nobody. What a schmuck. Is that anyway to treat the people I'm graced to have been close to? No. Then start writing you turd blossom.
6 May 1987
ReplyDeleteGreat Stirrup Cay - Berry Islands, Bahamas
DISCUSSIONS
The lack thereof on this trip. Go into a discussion:
1. Saying don't become identified with your opinions,
2. View it as an experiment.
I've been avoiding discussions. Why? Don't want to go out of agreement with anyone.
When I do get into discussions I find that I'm usually on the same side as Terry. Or maybe I want to find out what side he's on then I go to his side. My mechanistic self.
I'm unsettled, perturbed with myself for doing this. I even have a knot in my stomach as I write about it because I see a pattern.
When I lived with Carl, Rich and Gary, I chose Gary's side - automatic again. The person I feel closest to in a group - that person is the one I side with. The knot in my stomach might be coming from the realization of my simple-minded mechanistic self.
I'd like to have a discussion with Sue about her non-caring attitude but I view that as too personal. Is it? If it affects me then.... Many discussions, or possible ones, I have let pass by.
Another reason why I don't get into discussions is due to the fact that I don't let go of the past memories. I hold to them as if they were present. One point. Ann's misunderstanding me. Competition problem. I've used what, at the outset, seemed to be an agreement for keeping my mouth shut to keep my mouth shut. But it ended up the argument was due to circumstances out of my control ie. Ann and Terry's relationship.
The argument of eating beef/responsibility would have been a perfect place for me to interject about criticizing a person, or the idea of personal stuff but instead I kept my mouth shut and opened it when eschewing the responsibility issue. But it's no use to get bummed out over it now. Just remember it as a lesson and in the next discussion don't hesitate to speak your views about the issue or parliamentary procedure about presenting issues.
12 May, 1987
ReplyDeleteXanadu Beach Resort and Marina, Freeport, Grand Bahama Island
Plugged in to electric, water and a phone that doesn't work. This place looks a lot like Florida. We could be leaving tomorrow, late afternoon or Thursday morning. Let's go for tomorrow!
"Innisfree's" rinsed with fresh water, polished, "Rum- Tum-Tugger" has been painted on the dinghy and she's clean and almost completely stowed. Meals have been prepared, more tomorrow too. Last minute gifts purchased. The time is drawing near. Four days and nights of ocean sailing. What will it bring?
No thoughts are in my mind...just getting on the road. Getting started. I can live with Gary and Rich.
next page, pen sketch of the Lighthouse keeper's home and portion of Berry Island Lighthouse.
17 May, 1987
ReplyDeleteThe Gulf Stream crossing complete, Craig finds himself at Bob and Diane's resting up for his trip to Long Island. What? I'm not resting. I'm writing you twit. Can't you see I'm writing? Shit, how stupid can I be, I'm not resting I'm writing.
Anyway, I've flown in feeling light, away from the "pressures" of living with Terry, Ann and Sue for three months. ALWAYS REMEMBER, NO MATTER WHERE YOU GO THERE YOU ARE! (Pee Wee Herman).
I'm here. I was there but now I'm here. True enough. No matter where I go, there I am. There you have it folks a testimonial stating that, perhaps I can add my interpretation at this moment, I carry pressures, frustrations, judgements, perceptions with me wherever I go. You can make something good or you can make something bad. It's all in my head. Tah Dah. You better not forget it. You've got ideas, plans, hopes, dreams - go for them. Enjoy this life you're living because it is truly the only one I've got. The sky isn't even a limit. Fly to it with open arms as you would a loved one - be it friend or family.
We are all human except for the plants, ameboes, protists, apes, leopards, skinks, pandas, and all others that aren't human - like gnats, gmosquitoes, Anyway...problems exist. Work through them.
Diane said, "A person seems insecure when they want to do things only because another person is doing them and not because they want to do those things themselves." Remember it.
Do what other people are doing if you want, but don't if you don't want to.
Terry as we motored, starting early Friday morning ~0330, from Great Stirrup Cay to Freeport, "It looks like the masts are scraping the stars from the sky." There was a meteor shower, and shooting stars, some with vapor trails visible, were seen quite easily.
I sit here on the airplane between Asia Sherman, a sixth grader traveling to Dayton, Ohio, and a 42 year old man, named Bob Hardy who had just returned from a passage also! Asia Sherman is trying out for cheerleading for junior high school in Denver where she lives with her Dad. She's an Honors Student in spelling, reading and writing (I'm not too sure about the last one.) She plays keyboards and is reading "Madmoiselle" magazine. Reading the magazine to decide how she's going to decorate her room. Peach walls and wall paper on every other wall. This girl had a wise look about her. "Very grown up and intelligent" thought me to myself for a person who's supposed to be in sixth grade - a child. I asked her what she worries about. And she said, "Nuclear War, Hunger and Crime." Was she telling me what I wanted to hear or are those really her worries?
Let's see if I can use these old tried and true words to describe my conversation-mate. Dirty blonde hair pulled back in a pony tail, a red sweatshirt over a white polo blouse. Red hearts or circles about 1/2" diameter pinned to her collar. A flat face with a long, medium width nose. White Reebok high-top sneakers. She was about 5' maybe a little more and seemed to be neither fat nor skinny but probably the healthy weight for a person her age and height.
19 May, 1987
ReplyDeleteBack in Southampton, settled, sort of, with my friends and Gary. God it's such a relief to be back with Gary. My mind races thinking about jobs here, projects in the new found house. The idea that time is my own after working has finally struck home. I'll work then I'll do what I want - more of what I want.
I'm writing fast, quick unstructured thoughts spin in which round my brain and shoot off. A meteor shower in the CraHassler Cranial Galaxy. Whirling, twirling in and around. I don't think I shall loose this heightened sense. It could be that new surroundings invade my mind, and as they become not so new anymore, I'll slip back into an old, clouded, befuddled state. But I'll scream and kick as an innocent man accused of committing a most detestable act as he is dragged to the jailhouse after the pronouncement of guilt. Fingernail scratches marring the walls of the courtroom from whence he was ripped.
A quiet porch lies to my left - grey wooden boards comprise the decking. White, wooden columns provide support for the roof that provides coolness for those hot summer days ahead. The birds twhistle and whince as the day breaks but rain clouds mask the sun and blanket the earth from her warming rays.
Varnished wooden floors make up the living room, dinning room/plant room floors. And a Persian rug sets at the base of a comfortable couch with it's back to the wall and window.
Boxes are stacked by the white French front door and boxes are stacked behind the dinning room table - they've got to go.
Going through the living room then dinning/plant room brings me to the kitchen with a linoleum - redwood color with some type of tile design - floor, brown refrigerator and brown gas stove. A tin table made to look like wood sits under a white cabinet of dishes. Finally after the kitchen is a mudroom, the room to come in to with wet muddy boots after working on the farm, walking in the snow, or carpentering. Could be a bicycle room or could be an office. Time will tell.
Rich's table, now stained lightly, sits in the dinning room. It looks stately with it's simple lines and woody hue. The Rich table is the plant stand for two avocado trees started from seeds at the old house, one of Rich's plants that I recognize from the old house - no I take it back - two of Rich's plants from the old house.
Ah yes damned glad to be back. I can forsee a new unparalleled growth. I think I am a kin to the pine tree. In the spring with retreating snows, a profusion of wind and rain, I can feel myself beginning to sell with new ideas and energies. As spring changes to summer the energy is manifest in growth visible growth as with the Hemlock, spruce and scotch pines. As the summer reaches its end the new growth is changed to the color of the rest of the tree signifying its emergence with the old thoughts of the tree. As fall approaches the Pine hardens off readying itself for the death and harshness of the season to come. No growth is evident for months as the days grow shorter and shorter and shorter. Finally they can get no shorter signifying an end to the hardening and a beginning to new inner stirrings.
I do enjoy the seasons. But I hope my falls can be less dramatic than the changing leaves of the trees which are dropped transforming the tree into a harsh element adding to the coldness and destitution of fall and winter. Let me be as the pine which although hardened does not transform itself to the coldness of it's surroundings, but verily stands as a hope to the trees which stand naked in the cold.
Pen sketch of an open door and trim around the frame. My brown, tan and white beach towel, a gift from Mom and Dad, draped over the door.
Next page a pen sketch scene of a portion of the lighthouse on Great Stirrup Cay, Berry Islands, Bahamas
Undated entry on next pages:
ReplyDeleteLiving on planet earth in the 1980s. A time that will be remembered and forgotten in times to come. But who cares because now it is the present. But we plan and strive for the future, and with that our deaths are brought sooner to our doorsteps of the house of living that we have built and lived in for our entire short stay.
The sky is blue. The new full leaves on the trees are round springy green. The birds are twittering, flittering, flying here and there, there and here.
An exercise for my writing pops up:
The table that my feet are propped up on is weathered by the sun, wind and rain.
Table wind and rain my that the feet is weathered on up propped by the sun.
Rain by the sun table my feet are that propped on up is weathered.
The that my are up on is by the and Table feet propped weathered sun, wind, rain.
The words are building blocks bojingled and jumbled around. but we think that they must lie in a planned forethought upon way.
I remember back to the "reunion" at Pinchot Park last August. Evelyn and Bill, Mom, Aunt Doris, Claire, Chris, Amanda, Betsy, Alan and his son, Bob, Diane, Karen and Tom, Terry and me. And Betsy's dog. The middle aged people of yore ae advancing to the forefront of being "elderly." At the same time the children of the past have had children and are parents and some are approaching "middle" ages. The progression, marching onward of time. Be it majestically, frightfully, sloppily are all descriptive terms. The life process,, the game, the ride continues pulling new people in and releasing others out. Everyday existence is not regarded as anything spectacular. Is it not a miracle that every second or minute beats our heart several times. Our lungs fill up with air - be it fresh or foul, our blood circulates, we think, perceive, synapse, proteins are built, used and incorporated into our bodies from the foods we eat. We hear wave patterns that cause sound to be comprehended in our ears. We look at objects and see colors, see the objects. We can smell fragrances, or pungent. We worry, live, love, eat, sleep, urinate and crap.
The pen has run out of ink!
Well, maybe it hasn't. Looks not
pen sketch of a white, plastic deck chair with shadow.
Written upside down on the bottom of the page:
Expenses
$23.00 - P.O. Box
$12.00 - Breakfast
$15.00 - Seeds
$ 7.37 - plants/seeds
$ 9.00 - Schmidts
$ 66.00 - Schmidts
$ 21.50 - Red clover seed - 10 lb.
$ 10.06 - hard spade
$125.00 - rent, one acre Water Mill farmland.
THE WATER MILL ACRE
ReplyDeleteSEED COMPANY /PRICE /WEIGHT /OTHER
Sweet corn
J.B. Rice /$0.75 / 3/4 oz no
Spinach(Bloomsdale long standing)
Hart's Seeds/ $0.60 / 4.5 g /one plant
Beans (Improved tendrgreen stringless green pod bush type)
Hart's/ $0.75 /0.75 oz /good crop
Peas (Dwarf Gray Sugar)
Hart's /$0.60 / 0.75 oz/ very good
Tomato (Hybrid) Better Boy VFN
Hart's / $0.98 / 100 mg / didn't plant
Cucumber (Marketmore 70 reistence to scab and mosaic)
Hart's/ $0.60..2.2 g / didn't plant
Squash (yellow, Early Summer Crookneck)
Hart's / $0.60 / 3.24 g / very good
Squash (Aristocrat, hybrid, early zucchini type)
Hart's / $0.75 / 2.8 g / very good
Eggplant (Hybrid, Dusky)
Hart's / $0.75 / 180 mg
Pepper (California wonder)
Hart's / $0.75 / 6.48 mg
THE WATER MILL ACRE ...continued
ReplyDeleteSEED/COMPANY/PRICE/WEIGHT/OTHER
Parsley (Moss curled)
Hart's/ $0.60/ 2.5 g / good
Dill (Bouquet)
Hart's/ $0.60/1.8 g/ good
Sweet Basil (Basilicone)
Hart's/ $0.60/1.5 g/ good
Pumpkin (Small Sugar Pie)
Hart's / $0.75/ 4.5 g/ good
Muskmelon (Delicious 51)
Hart's/ $0.75/ 3.2 g/ great
Thyme (Garden Herb)
Hart's / $0.75/ 267 mg/ -
Sunflower (Mammoth, Gray Striped 2)
Hart's / $0.75/ 4.5 g/ great
Gloriosa Daisy (single mixed)
J.B. Rice / $0.75/ 700 mg
Marigold (Dwarf Double)
J.B. Rice / $0.75/ 600 mg
Marigold (Yelow Treasure)
Hart's / $0.75 / 450 mg
Shasta Daisy - Alaska
J.B. Rice / $0.75 / 700 mg
Shasta Daisy - Alaska
Hart's / $0.75 / 378 mg
Plants from Lynch's Garden Center
Sweet Basil 4 plants - great
pepper - Hybrid, Green boy, large blocky fruit 3 plants - excellent
Burpee Big Boy Tomato F-1 Hyprid 6 plants - very good
Burpee Hybrid Eggplant 6 plants - excellent
THE PELHAM HOUSE PLANTINGS - 3 September 1987
Spinach - bloomsdale long staning
Hart's/ $0.60 / 4.5 grams
Broccoli
Hart's / $0.75 / 1.56 g
26 May 1987
ReplyDeleteI sit here in the 30th Street Station, Philadelphia. City of Brotherly Love?
The high ceilings, square and rectangular marble columns supporting. Square marble tiles on the floor. Not too shiny, but polished by scuffing shoes. A painting/sculpture takes up the expansive wall behind my back. Large, maple (?) high backed benches are at either end of this side waiting room. A little quieter and darker. I'm easy prey for someone who needs to borrrow money. Les walks up and tells me he needs sixty cents to get his clothes out of hock. His girlfriend/wife is using cocaine and he's worried about the kids! He's no pan handler though.
People walk back and forth to the restrooms. Some tall, some short, round in the middle, round at the top, round at the bottom or just plain all around round. Shorts, long pants, sweaters, suit coats, raincoats, dresses, hats.
There is an echo rambling and bouncing off of the walls and the high ceilings. The undeerworld sounds of imaginary peoples imprisoned in hell. Hell which has been covered over by the cities. Men feel good in cities. They have made their surroundings. When they yell - an echo is heard. They can scribble on the walls. They have created and they can destroy. But, in nature a yell is absorbed.
27 de Mayo, Mil novecientos ochenta y siete
ReplyDeleteThe rain has started. Many leaves block the rain drop's path as it flies from sky to earth. A sound with is peaceful - drops hitting the maple tree then running off and splatting onto the ivy leaves. The earth drinks in the gentle sky dew. No torrents or raging waters scraping away this earth's precious topsoil. Birds are calling, twittering, chirping. The pine trees are here at home. There new growth evident in the light blue fingers of the blue spruce and in the emerald green fingers of the green spruce. The leaves of the decidious trees are a light baby green - their succulent tenderness evident in their curled state.
Rabbit sits munching on grass on the hillside above. The locust trees have dropped their flowers and the pine have caught them adorning their branches with petals like a christmas tree regaled with lights.
This is life: peole living, dieing, loving one another, loving another, Affairs, war, poverty, hunger, starvation, birth, marriage, soaps, sitcomes, cars, trucks, painting, woodwork, gardening, bugs, stones, trees, birds.
Asked if I am Gay, I say nay. I am not attracted to men, just one person. Call me a personophile. I love a person. (the ends of the next few lines were crossed out at a later time, not sure when. Probably not long after Gary said we needed to burn the letters that we'd sent to each other while I was on "Innisfree" in the Bahamas. I think we burned them in the wood burning stove at the Mary's Lane House in Southampton in 1990 but not sure if a later journal will mention it since our pledge to one another, from the beginning, driving back from our bicycle trip in Vermont, August 1986, was that we wouldn't tell anyone about our relationship.) What do these words mean? Mere labels if you ask me.....not taken to personally. What does attracted mean?
Time to think, time to ponder, pen starts to run out then goes on. There is no need to worry about words and their alignment with one another. The truth is.
4 June 1987
ReplyDeleteGetting geared up for the second day of work. The new morning rituals are continued to day two. A little reading, writing, breakfast and shower. Moved in to my room. It's a good feeling to be settled. To know that when I'm done with work I can go home to the house and friends. Find a little rice and some lentils in the refridge, mix in some snow peas, and cherry tomatoes. Add one can, cream of celery and warm. Ah. No more cheap wine with dinner. This weekend, I feel it stored under my eyes this morning. The acre (Water Mill) lies waiting. This weekend, I tell myself. No need to tell myself anything. I'll go when I feel like it...The hard thing about plans is that they just wait to be broken.
Henry's up (neighbor's dog barking). And as I look at the clock it says 6:00 in red letters. Incentive to stay on this early to rise program.
Now what to write? The superficial steam, or fog, has lifted from my mind, the pond. Is my mind a pond? Think about this: it reflects those things above it and hides those below it, or those parts which make up its insides. It's moods are changed by the external. Wind wips it up to a frothing, seething white-capped fury. Rain pock marks it and sometimes, most times, subdues it. The pond is grey when the weather is dismal, blue and clear when the sun is strong and bright. As the seasons change the pond can become colored like the autumn leaves and then it turns cold and a hard shell envelopes it during the hard, biting months of December, January and February.
Perhaps the ocean is fair earth's mind. Oh so changeable when you try to look at her all over and up close in our small area. She is loving, gentle, hating, spiteful. Ever chaning. We can't see or understand her workings just as we cannot truely understand our mind's workings.
FOOD
ReplyDeleteJune 3, 1987
$2.00 produce
$3.00 groceries
$4.00 lunch
$6.00 drinks
June 8, 1987
$24 - groceries/produce
$12 - granola fixins
$35 - dinner
$10 - gloves (non edible)
13 June 1987
ReplyDeleteHenry's (neighbor's dog) barking again. Our (I asked biracial older couple if I could walk Henry) first morning walk kept him quiet for the time we were walking. About twenty minutes. Hopefully tomorrow we can walk longer. Don't forget gloves tomorrow. This scheme to tire him out, to quiet his youthfulness so he doesn't bark is somewhat dubious. Time and only time, trial after trial will tell.
What's your purpose in barking young lightening bolt? If you're exercised maybe you'll be able to get along with the squirrels that run around the trees in your yard. Naw, I take it back. Those squirrels are a sinister lot - dancing and prancing. Showing off that they can run, jump and do as they please.
My thoughts betray me as I write. I hear your lulls in barking and my mind jumps thinking, "ahh, listen to the quiet." But don't be so confident. That little rascal over there does this every morning. But, instead of hearing the lack of noise you hear the noise. Now today you mump behind tghe lack of noise as if you were responsible for it. Don't be so sure and quick to pat yourself on the back.
Eight working days have gone by with DeCristofarro Landscaping and Gardening. The employer and employees are a diverse group. Motivations are obscure. The abundance of big money makes some businessmen corpulent and slow to react. Their efficiency is reduced and they become likea heavy/obese man trying to play a quick game of squash.
14 June 1987
ReplyDeleteMy mind struggles. It's sinister and most diabolical plot is revealed to me. It pushes me to exhaustion even on my days off. Then it works its intricate lace of deception, throwing in seeds of self-importance twisting and turning simple words said against me. It waits till my defenses are down. But since I've been better at self observation it's had to apply pressure. It forces me to do this, do that, then when I tire it interjects untruths. Then siezes upon them as a cog passing through a geared machine - snagging, stopping the process and embroiling the whole attention on some inside, insignificant trifle.
I see you dear mind. You deem your mental actions so important, tell me I'm not appreciated. The mundane everyday life is the hardest to get by. A challenge is presented in overcoming the sleepy state of everyday patterns.
I crossed out my friend's name at it's request last night. Lest I be irresponsible with the placement of this dear record.
15 June 1987
ReplyDeleteThe mental wrestling match continues. Mind is like Venus flytrap. It lays out long arms waitin gfor some unsuspecting passerby of thought to trip a sensitive hair. The mind trap closes quickly when the hairs are triggered and food for thought is made ready when all the digestive secretions have been added.
My mind is its own best friend. What it does to itself is not considered as bad, yet oh what other people say and do can really get it into an outrage. In both cases; however, my mind is doing the work, the screening, the wieghing of value - importance. Turn off the mind when it gets to its old beaten paths of sameness.
The sun is coming p on this blazy, possibly cloudy day. The wind is more than a breeze.
Henry is being readied for his morning walk.
The mind looks at others and sees only their shortcomings and ineptitudes. As it looks at itself it sees lightness, beauty and impingement of others will upon its own. Silly mind.
22 June 1987
ReplyDeleteHappy Birthday my friend. It's a little after eleven and my mind is running wildly again. That danmable after dinner coffee. Oh well, this'll give me a chance to read, write. While away the night which I usually sleep away. My guts are churning thinking of the money I'm spending. It's not that much relatively speaking. I don't have will powere to stick to decisions about not spending. I go to the bank at lunch write a check and by evening i's almost gone. Sixty, fifty-five, forty...poof it's in my hand, it burns and I drop it.
The coffee doesn't let me sleep so I think about my lack of control. It scares me. Money that's coming in will already be spent. I'd like to save some. Why? Why not? I think about it too much.
George help me through this. Calm my nerves. Caffiene though vile elixir. My body in turmoil. Alcohol fighting caffeine. A tired body tricked into thinking it's ready to go. My muscles twitch uncontrollably. No more coffee. Work out of my system. Wreak your havoc on the nervous system and go on. You deserve better treatment old body, buddy.
You shall receive it.
Time flys, Time flys. Flys time, time flys. Sylfemit.
People tak about love. Spending time together. I want to spend the rest of our lives together! But, alas, we go to work. our empolyers, employees, peers and coworkers know us better than the one we claim to love.
Is it bad for two people who love each other to spend their days working together? I love you and want to spend time with you. How can we grow together if we don't see each other? But if you love then isn't it better to be together for at least a few minutes of the day than not at all? TO BE ALONE. What is this love? When alone every thing is th elove of two people. What is the difference between being alone and seeing the person you love say five hours a day? And when you see the love, not being able to touch freely, not being able to sleep side by side...sweets under a glass.
One year shall be offered gladly. With happiness, Joy, Optimism.
25 June 1987
ReplyDeleteWell, here I am again. Vile, wicked, socially sloppy, indiscreet, selfish, and inconsiderate, Craig. It's hard to sleep facing all these awarenesses. I was sleeping but then the realizations snagged in my mind. All energy turned, and instead of thinking of justifications to rationalize my way out, I freeze. Sure, some do pop in to my head, but they seem small and superficial. I worry too much about being like others, thereby missing opportunities to be thoughtful. I stand guilty as accused. Now what? The gallows, imprisonment, electrocution, death by hanging? Oh if it were only that easy. Why defend myself. Whether it be at work when harassed by Chris, or in social situations. I think too damn much. You'd think that with all this thinking I'd be a genius. But, no. I'm just a common every day human being who makes a lot of mistakes, steps on others' toes and then tries to blame them for putting their toes under my feet. Truth is, there's no one way to handle anything. You can't go around waiting for situations to happen so that you can use your preprogramed thoughts. Just live. Don't get caught up in the rights and wrongs. Things just happen. Things just happen. Things just happen. Things just happen. Things just happen. Thiings just happen. Things just happen. I am human. I am human. I am human. I am human. I am human. I am human. I am human. I am human. I am human. Every one else is human too. Everyone else is human too. Everyone else is human too. Everyone else is human too.
August 2nd, 1987
ReplyDeleteLooks like I took the month of July off from writing. The garden is growing. Sturdy plants are there pumping out peas, beans and squash. The marigolds are plumping the ends of their stems. Soon a new dash of color. The petunias, salvia, dusty miller and drawing of a flower, are still flowering. Eggplants, peppers, tomatoes, squash, muskmelons, pumpkins and zuchinni are flowering too. Orchestral color amid the recently de-nuded winter wheat buffer zone surrounding my acre.
Picking vegetables after riding from East Hampton cheered me up. Thoughts about work frustrate me. Last Wednseday was my last day with Chris (Landscaper). I made a mistake in my job searching. That's how you learn. The cabinet making job fell through as did the tile job. The tile guy, Jim Hummel, needed help right away, and since I didn't let him no last Monday he hired two people. The reason I didn't call him Monday was because the cabinet maker couldn't talk since his daughter was just in an accident. So I gave him til Wednesday and he told me that the job had been filled by someone else.
But I have insurance, so not I can live anywhere in the U.S. without fear! That's a good thought. What was I doing when I didn't have insurance? What a concept this insurance. Giving pessimistic money I'll call it. Well, if I get into an accident....It's a necessary thing, quit bellyaching. For one thing it's showing that you're responsible for yourself. The burden on family should anything happen to you is no more. The steps toward becoming a man.
I suppose getting a car will be the next responsible step. Causing more gasoline to be used, increasig the greenhouse effect just a little bit more. Why? You don't have to get a car. Don't get one if you please. If you feel strongly enough about it, you can get along without one. The key is not to moan, complain or otherwise draw attention to your battle. After all it's your battle and no one else's. No one will understand. No one needs to. It's something I believe in. It will not stop me from being a success. The only thing that will stop me is me. So get on your bike and ride. Two hours a day. Fine. Do it. Go for it. Don't thing just do.
Instead of saying "I don't want to have a car," I shall say "I want to ride my bike." I like riding my bike.
I don't eat meat or chicken. I eat vegetables and seafood. There is a definite difference in outlook here. In one respect it sounds like I'm giving up. In the other it sounds like I'm making a choice. I am.
August 11th, 1987
ReplyDeletePencil sketches of trees near Agawam Park, Southampton, NY.
A juicy apple.
I live my life.
Dear Kurt Bukholtz (formerly renting place that Gary, Rich and I shared also worked at the Marine Science station on Shinnecock Bay at Southampton College while I was a student.)
How are you making out on Grand Turk? I can imagine that I'm the last person you'd expect to hear from. Well to avoid indirectness, I'll say this is a business letter although I am curious about your experiences and impressions of the island and its people.
I graduated last December and went to work/relax ona 48' ketch that my sister and brother-in-law own. We sailed to the Bahamas and ended up staying near Georgetown, Great Exuma from February till May. It was a great time. I got so caught up in the sailinig scene that I bought a 23' sloop from a Canadian who had kept the boat in the Bahamas for the past fifteen years.
Now my unrealistic idealism strikes hard. I'm working as a cabinet maker's apprecntice here in Southampton. And, although I enjoy work, I think about getting a job in Marine Biology and living on my boat (Idealism). These urges keep coming back to me even though I try to bury them. So, I'll begin my search for a job with you, if you don't mind. Do you know of any researchers or Aquaculture companies that need help in the Bahamas, Turks and Caicos or Florida? If you could send me their names and addresses? And if you think my chances are pretty slim let me know. Reality is a good way to deal with Ideality.
On the facing page in pencil the following:
Ruined a 1/2 piece of formica ($7.00) when putting it on to
6 September 1987
ReplyDeleteMoved into 95 Pelham Rd. last Sunday after ten days of sanding floors, finishing and painting walls. Two weeks of getting up for work, coming home, working on new place. Temporary insanity I think it is called.
Work as a cabinet maker's apprentice is going well. The people are very friendly. A lot like old women., the way they talk about one another, but then arent' we all? Why is it that this bad habit is attributed to old women when old men, young men, middle-aged women, young women and middle-aged men all are guilty?
I tell myself to bring a camera and take pictures of the shop and the other guys working. Would it capture the feeling, the aura of my little workplace? Even if it didn't, the pictures would be a nice rememberance. I am able to ride my bicycle to work. The sun is getting up later each morning making me remember that summer is ending and fall is beginning. Soon the leaves will begin to change there look to red, the wind will blow colder, rain will come and people will dart from here to there with their shoulders hunched up, collars upturned, ducking from the ailments of coldness and dampness.
Terry and Ann will be going there separate ways this Wednesday! Ann is headed to the Virgin Islands adn Terry['s headed to Georgette and Ed's for a week's visit. Terry asked me if I wanted to take over Ann's position as first mate. No pressure. I shouldn't even think about it, but I do. I babble on the phone to Terry. Talking about who knows what. He must think I'm out of my mind. I talk about the aquiring of possessions for the house, my own involvement, transcending environments surrounding us. Giddy mindless meanderings. I talk about things that I' know we've discussed. A reiteration of old thoughts.
I know Diane, Bob and Terry will understand me wanting to stay here. So be it.
on opposite page pen sketches of a lamp, my friends' head, foot and leg.
Winter, spring, summer or fall
All you've got to do is call
And I'll be there
Yes I will
To see you again
hey aint it good to know
that you've got a friend
When people can be so cold.
They'll hurt you
and desert you
Well they'll take their soul if you let them,
Ah yeah
But don't you let them.
October 14th, 1987
ReplyDeleteIt's getting colder. Brr, Brr says the body. I ride to work, green hood up over my ears. The sun not up yet, but brightening the eastern sky. Crisp cool air brushes by my body sucking away the warmth. When I arrive at the shop my body starts to feel warm.
Today as Charlie and I drove to East Hampton, I saw frost in the fields, in the shadows of trees and houses. Autum colors of bright red, yellow, orange, brown, and evrygreen mingled in sight. White clouds coming from the tailpipes of newly started cars on thier way to work.
Frost is still on our work deck at Adams and Wood. My hands are cold and clumsy as I try to realign the sawbuck. I fight the urge to ask Charlie what to do next. A simple job like this I should be able to figure out without having to ask questions. It is easy to get into a habit of asking questions before one has even figured out what to do. Teh day winds slowly onward. I don't feel like I'm contributing all that much.
I wonder how it would be if I were self-employed. It's a nice thought, yet there are uncovered realities in looking at greener pastures. One thing: it's nice to go to work and have someone give you a check at week's end. You have no business worries at all. You go to work, work is provided for you, you do it, you get paid. VERY SIMPLE.
In having your own employment you must be your own boss. You must provide the imagination to get work, do a satisfactory job and get paid. All very simple provided you don't get too nervous or uptight about getting work. We shall see.
NOT DOING SOMETHING IS DOING SOMETHING
that last capitalized line was actually written:
ReplyDeleteNOT DOING ANYTHING IS DOING SOMETHING.
October 26, 1987
ReplyDeleteThe day after the day after we turned the clocks back an hour. I'm still pondering and wonderng about this seemingly thoughtless process. The power of the masses, usinted, grinds along. I'm not flattering myself into thinking that I'm the only one to wonder about turning time back. It's a thought that I'm sure many people are mulling over as they drive to work in the sun that last week was darkness and drive home in the darkness that was last week's sun.
Onward....
I just finished writing a belated Birthday card to Diane. As I was writing I wondered how my family is making out. Distance really tries to wrap her silky fingers around me. Sometimes she wins, sometimes she loses.
I remember camping in the Blue Ridge mountains with Diane, Karen and Tommy. It doesn't seem that long ago. I was sixteen, and learning to drive. The brown dodge van was our camper. What a great thing to be able to spend time with your family. What a great thing to spend time with your friends. What a great thing to spend time by yourself.
As a man I realize that there are no problems too big to handle, no complaints to be uttered. I must stand tall and bear the problems. Remember there are no problems. If I do have any tey are very small in comparison and can be worked out. No more crying on Mom's shoulder. She has enough to worry about without thinking that I'm not stable.
November 15th, 1987
ReplyDeleteTom came Thursday night and just left today, Sunday. Time flew by. We had a great time. He is a good kid.
Tomorrow I'll work with Mark - overtime. Already Two more weeks until Thanksgiving. I'm painfully aware of the quick passage of time. That is when I'm not working. When I'm at work I play a game. To see how long I can go without looking at the clock. It's easier to play when I'm working in the shop than I'm installing with Charlie.
Larrry talked to me about people who are working on an island in the Bahamas. Spiny crab aquaculture research is what they're up to. Sounds pretty fascinating. How interesting it'll be to write and found out just what it is they're doing and where they're located.
Never seem to be satisified being in one place. I wonder if that's why I was so happy in Georgetown. The seasonality of the place. Knowing that I would only be there a short while then on to new. I like that.
I wonder if I was some nomadic animal in the past visit. Those moving yearnings are still trying to express themselves.
A story of street people who are able to withstand
Tuesday night, 17th November 1987
ReplyDeleteAnother day, another dolalr. What a saying! That about sums up the way the business machine operates.
Last night Rich, Gary and I went tothe Sag Harbor Cinema to see "Swim to Cambodia" a monologue by Spalding Gray. He had the rold of an American ambassador in the movie "Killing Fields." HIs monologue centered on Thailand and Cambodia. It was turely a moving story. Just Spalding at a desk with a microphone and glass of water. Madras shirt and balding head of hair.
He talked about the whore districts in Bankok. His perfect moment swimming in the Indian Ocean with his fellow "artist" Ivan (? can't think of the right name, although I know it starts with "I" and has an "a" in it somewhere. He talked of traveling on an Amtrak train from New York to Chicago. Can't thiink anymore. I'll read about Paralytic Shellfish Poisoning an dsee if I can come back to this. Bye.
EXPECT
ReplyDeleteMONTHLY
Rent - 283.34
Phone -
Lilco - 20.00
Chega (loan w/ Terry) - $100.00
Cliff Dean (for keeping an eye on "Chega" - $25
Insurance - $44.06
Food - $200.00
Total - $672.40 not counting phone
LET"S GET SERIOUS - BILLS
September1987
Rent + Security - $451.96
Phone (August's bll) - $20.44
Cliff Dean (Sept/Oct) - $50.00
Gas - $60.38
Linea (Rent at old place) - $183.34
Contacs - $225.00
C & A Appliance - 26.87
Total $1,017.99
October 1987
Rent - $277.34
Telephone - $29.94
Lilco - 20.15
C & A Appliance - $63.32
Food Co-op - $31.00
Terry/Chega - $100.00
Magazines - $28.98
Insurance - $44.06
Total - $594.79
November 1987
Rent - $283.33
Telephone - $65.00
C & A Applicance - $6.45
Terry/Chega - $100.00
Food Coop - $22.00
Jackson's Marina - $16.80
Telephone - $42.81
Lilco - $22.48
Insurance - $44.06
Total $602.93
Christmas:
Stationary Store - $5.00
Harry Lilly White - $5.43
Tree - $40.00
Book sale - $5.00
Brooks - $6.00
Book Hampton - $24.00
Music Store - $10.00
Tackle shop - $3.00
Liquors - $35.00
Lynch's - $15.00
Frame Gallery - $16.00
Oakton Bookstore - $17.00
December 1987
Rent - $283.00
Insurance - $44.06
Food (?)
December 29th, 1987
ReplyDeleteI'll leave a few pages to the budget.
Christmas, shop, shop, make, make, over. Now it's the week between. Usually spent with family. First year that I go a working.
"Welcome to the real world."
Step by step changes. Make it through each day. One step, one step, one step. You can do it. You can do it.
Now I've forgotten. Now I remember. Sometimes I'm amazed at how quickly I forget. Take time to walk, smell, sit in the sun's rays. I got lost in running around concerned with insignifigant crap. Well, you know, the things tht must be done.
Clipping from December 1986 Sail magazine:
ReplyDeleteNaval Architect Carl Alber Dies At Age 85
Naval architect Carl Alber died on August 31, 1986 in Marblehead, Massachusetts, at the age of 85 after a short illness. A native of Sweden, he attended the Chalmers Institute of Technology there. He came to the United States in the late 1920s and was employed for many years in the design department of the John Alden Company in Boston, where he was involved in the design of the Coastwise Cruiser, several of the "Malabars," and "Tioga Too," among others.
Alber also designed "Katuna, Sea Lion," the U.S. One-Design Class, and other well-known boats.
He will be remembered most, however, for his early involvement in the design of stock fiberglass auxiliary sailboats. The first of these was the Sea Sprite in the mid-1950s and later the 28-foot Triton, which helped revolutionize the auxiliary sailboat business. The Triton was built by Pearson in Bristol, Rhode Island, and was introduced at the New York Boat Show in January 1959; hundreds were sold over the following years. The Triton was followed by the Ensign/Electra and the Alberg 35.
In recent years Alberg designed an extensive series of models for Cape Dory Yachts of East Taunton, Massachusetts.
Alberg raced in the 30-Square Meter class in Marblehead and the U.S. One-Design Class. He was also well known to the ocean-racing crowd.
During the year prior to his death, Alberg donated most of his plans and papers to the Peabody Museum in Salem, Massachusetts. - Jack Haley
THE STATION - Robert J. Hastings
ReplyDeleteTucked away in our subconscious is an idyllic vision. We see ourselves on a long trip that spans the continent. We are traveling by train. Out the windows we drink in the passing scene of cars on nearby highways, of children waving at a crossing, of cattle grazing on a distant hillside, of smoke pouring from a power plant, of row upon row of corn and wheat, of flatlands and valleys, of mountains and rolling hillsides, of city skylines and village halls.
But uppermost in our minds is the final destination. On a certain day at a certain hour we will pull into the station. Bands will be playing and flags waving. Once we get there so many wonderful dreams will come true adn the pieces of our lives will fit together like a completed jigsaw puzzle. How restless we pace the aisles, damning the minutes for loitering - waiting, waiting, waiting for the station....
Sooner or later, we must realize there is no station, no one place to arrive at once and for all. The true joy of life is the trip. The station is only a dream. It contantly outdistances us.
"Relish the moment" is a good motto especially when coupled with Psalm 118:24: "This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it."
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
Phylis Food (Owner of house on Halsey Street, Southampton that Ilise Garvin, Jennifer Darling, Greg Shumacker and I rented from Jan 1986 to early May 1986)
ReplyDeleteHours Date Time Work
2.5 Nov. 87 1:30 - 4:00 Raked leaves front/back yard
1.5 Jan. 4 88 1:00- 2:30 Moved furniture in dinning/living
2.0 Jan. 11 88 7:00 - 9:00 Took down blinds, taped stairway, bookshelves, kitchen.
2.75 11:00 - 1:45 Sanded floors
7.75 3:45 - 11:30 Sanded floors
1.0 8:30 - 9:30 Rich helped sand
2.25 Jan 12, 88 8:00 - 10:15 Vacumed, applied 1st coat poly
2.0 Jan. 14, 88 4:30 - 6:30 a.m. Steel wooled, tacked and applied second coat poly
1.5 Jan. 15, 88 4:15 - 5:45 a.m. Steel wooled, couldn't start because furnace stopped, too cold to for poly to dry.
1.0 Jan. 15, 88 5:30 - 6:30 p.m. Tacked and applied third coat of poly.
2.5 Jan. 16, 88 8:30 - 11:00 a.m. Moved furniture back, vacumed downstairs.
26.75 hours total - Labor $214.00
Receipts:
$97.83 Sander rental
$3.17 Tack cloths, steel wool
$4.29 - scraper
$73.87 - poly, thinner, drop cloths
------------
$179.16
Total bill to Phylis Flood $214.00 + $179.00 = $393.00
January 5th, 1988
ReplyDeleteBrrrr.
I thought it was cold in October and November. Ha! That was nothing. Now, this moring, the thermometer is afraid to come out of the teens and the wind is trying to get in through every nook and cranny.
If I caught someone taking money from a cash register would I report them to the owner? I said, "yes." But, would, I?
If I was broke would I steal food? I said, "yes." Would I really?
Some questions I never thought about. Not since the Resident Assistant job.
January 6th, 1988
ReplyDeleteIT'S STILL COLD. WOW!
Wednesday morning 6:05 a.m. getting ready for work. Just packed my gourmet lunch. Capons, truffles a side order of caviar and champagne a la thermos...well, close. (My job at Raffel Cabinet shop is four ten hour days per week, Tuesday thru Friday.)
Am on my way to saving for a visit to "Chega." The poor girl, we'll visit for two weeks then she'll back to her solitude. Maybe later I'll go down and pick her up.
This is a rather removed luxury - "Chega." I've owned her for about eight months, but have had the job of sailing her for only one month.
I think abut a future visit, when she is all paid off when I will take time and tarry as I like sailing my way back to the U.S.
Then again, maybe I should sell her now.....
January 18th, 1988
ReplyDeleteInterviewed with Multi- Aquaculture last Wednesday. They hold lobsters and sell them internationally and locally.
I called them yesterday to tell them I was definitely intrested in working with them. They, Marie McHenry, said it looked good, but they'd let me know Thrusday or Friday!
Three more days of working with the cabinet company of E.T. Raffel. It's been very good although I'm glad to be going towards an aquaculture related field.
And next Saturday I'm bound to see "Chega!" Gary's coming along for a little relaxation in the sun.
Yee hah! I can't wait to see her. I've gotten a bit bogged down with the buying of this and that for her, but that's almost done with. Soon, I'll be there on the beautiful little sailboat.
January 19th, 1988
ReplyDeleteWicked farts fill the air this morning. Why is this? Every morning.
Last night I tossed and rolled thinking, pondering, looking forward to the trip. Wednesday, Thursday, Friday then we're off. I wonder how she's doing? Does the engine still work? Has she taken on much water? How is she overall?
Jan 21, 1988
ReplyDeleteThe last tow dates are one day younger than they truely are. What's that?
Reading over old notes about "Chega." I haven't done what I said. Now I'll start.
The 1988 trip to Great Exuma.
Tickest have haphazzardly been purchased.
Eastern cancelled the reservation they made for me on Aero Coasch. I found out when I was changing the return trip ticket. Pan Am to Miami and back.
Purchased $307 worth of gear. Namely a handheld VHF, block and tackle, safety lights and navigation kit.
Gary helped in the purchases. $147 worth. He's a great guy. I'm glad he's coming along.
Rich's Dad picked up $51 worth of charts (4). From a Nautical Navigation store in Manhattan. What a great help. Yet I keep thinking that Gunther left some charts on "Chega." Probably the same ones I've purchased. At least I know their current.
Is "Chega" still floating. God I hope so.
"Spent $154 in November to have her sails fixed, new grommets and hanks put in place. They look great.
I hope she's there, or I'll be one unhappy camper.
Plan is to sail/meander for a day, stop, hike, camp out for a day, sail/meander up the Exumas.
First we'll see how "Chega's" doing
Purchase necessary items:
beer (1 case) - $25.00
wine (1 gallon) - $10.00
bottle water
gas
kerosene
alcohol
food stuff: veggies, staples, fruits
All richt. I can't wait.
Last night I had a dream. Believe it or not Barb, Mom, Dad and Grandma were there.
Barb was visiting. We were all staying at a variation of Grandma's house. Joe's dog was there too for some unknown reason.
It was great talking to Barb. She was still as beautiful as ever and as kind too. We were talking about her being married and how she like married life. It was strange though because at first we were having an incredible conversation about sex, as if we were still dating. But, then it came to me that she was married and that we weren't dating.
While we were talking, it was very early in the morning, Grandma came to her back door all bundled up ready to go for a ride in the Jeep then out came Dad and Mom and the three of them rode off in the Jeep.
What a dream. I wonder if this is the only way I'll see some people again.
I'm back!
ReplyDeleteI've worked at Multiaquaculture for four days, travelled at high speeds (well moderate) to go home for Grandma's 90th Birthday, travelled at high speeds and endured hours of stop and go traffic and here I am eating oatmeal, Monday morning, February 15th.
Sail naked man. It's the only way to go. The Bahamas were and still are beautiful. "Chega" she floats. Now she's nestled behind Cliff Dean's in Lake Victoria for the long duration until we are reunited next April.
It seemed like a whole new set of people and boats were visiting the fair Georgetown. Although the area hasn't changed much except a few building have completed 0 like the Scotia Bank and some new houses have been started.
Cliff is clearing the lot next to his house so he can put up a shop; use half of it and rent the other half.
Mr. Dean also has a lovely new wife from San Salvador, Bahamas. Out with the old and in with the new. His previous girlfriend had a drug problem and couldn't be dealt with, so C' est la vie!
(From memory as I'm putting these journals on line, the weather for the first week of our trip/visit to the Bahamas was cool, wet and too windy. We spent most of our time anchored by Stocking Island and met an older man from Massachusetts, John Herra - I think, was his name - who'd chartered a 37' Cabo Rico sailboat from Eleuthra, Bahamas. He was solo and needed a hand sailing it back. Gary and I helped him sail it back. Very humurous start to our trip to Eleuthra. As we left one evening headed out through the northern cut into Stocking Harbor, motoring straight into rather large waves, diesel fumes and motion combined to make John sea sick. Gary and I ended up being at the helm, sailing most of the night and into the early morning before John was able to join us. As payment for the help, he paid for our flights from Eleuthra back to Georgetown.
Dream Log:
ReplyDeleteFebruary 24th, 1988
Last night I dreamed I was bicycle riding with Mae Seff (Gary's Mom). After a brief ride we met up with others and went to an old builiding near a river, I think. The beginning of my walking on slender beams in high places. Gradually more and more people came into the building and started cheering as I climbed up to the rafter. An announcer came in, ballons brightly colored filled the room and I began to walk. The pressure, the buildup was incredible I could hardly move my legs then....wump. I woke up realizing that I had made it across...
A couple nights ago I dreamed that Karen and I were videotaping Willie Nelson singing outisde of his mountain home. We were headed back down the mountain on a dirt, two-rut path; sometimes climbing rock wall other times just walking along the path. Karen disappeared, no longer in the dream, and I was faced with two huge dark Grizzly Bears. One walked by as if it didn't notice, but the other caught sight of me and chased me under a tree. I turned to face it as it jumped at me and then I woke up.
Dreams come and go. Sometimes I dream. Sometimes I don't.
Spring rains water the ground now. There's a good feeling about this rain. The urge to hunch one's shoulders and scurry indoors is waning. The drops are big warm and wet. Hearty and healthy. Time wanders, no, runs forward. Friends are here. Let's not
April 7th, 1988
ReplyDeleteAn edgy feeling is hovering over me. I want to read, write, sleep, awake, love, hate. Frenetic, uneven engergies. On off, on off, on, Off, oo, nff, oO, nFF. A neon light, red, buzz, off, buzz on, blue. Not steady in the slightest.
Peace and tranquility safely harbored in the core while tempests raze across the surface, atmosphere changes, cold, warm, rain, wind. Spring, Winter, Winter, Spring. One would never know calmness at the heart, covered as it is with
Take a walk. Breath in the night air. A shower to wash away frustrations. Unsatisfying experiences. Self-maintained.
A NEW BOAT & EXPENSES (17' Wooden sloop that Rich and Gary found at Shelter Island Marina and purchased.)
$1250 - split
$70 Heat gun - Gary
$10 Trailer hitch - Gary
$30 Lumber - Craig and Gary
$13 Sandpaper - C & G
$55 Sag Hardware - G, paint, teak claner and brightener
$4.50 Herrick's Hdwr
$42 - Emporium Hdwr - G paint, brush
$5.00 Herrick's Hdwr - G nuts and bolts
$38 Freeport Marine - G, paint
$32 Emporium - C paint, vanish
$63 Southampton Welding - C, centerboard
$73 Emporium Hdwr - C, oars, etc.
$3 Southampton L. - C, sandpaper
$37 Herrick's Hdwr - C, varnish, mask
5/28/88
ReplyDeleteMemorial Day Weekend.
The weather was supposed to be beautiful, but some rogue clouds have snuk in to dampen the throngs plans for a glorious holiday of fun in the East End sun. But, not this crew.
Slowly "Seasoned" is taking form. Her lovely topsides are a shiny, glossy, slick and sexy white. Her bottom a deep seductive blue. Her newly crafted rudder sits watchfully on the transom. Shiney, soft brightwork make her ready to sail. And, freshly varnished seats with crisp white sol plates under foot greet the Captain and crew.
Today she will make the return trip to her home at Shelter Island Marina. A return to her waters.
WORK LOG EAST HAMPTON TOWN NATURAL RESOURCES DEPARTMENT
ReplyDeleteMay 31, 1988 (T) 9:00 - 5:00. Maps, copying 7 bays @ 1" = 600'
June 1, 1988 (W) 9:00 - 5:00. Maps with Chris Pranis, Taping aerial photos.
June 2, 1988 (Th) 9:00 - 5:00. Taping aerials, stations on maps (school gym)
June 3, 1988 (F) 9:00 - 4:30. Taping, stations.
31.5 hours first week.
June 6, 1988 (M) 9:00 - 5:00. Stations, took coliform samples in Accabonac, Chirs Pranis, Kevin Maeir, John Aldred. Set up transects in Northwest Creek. Ospreys.
June 7, 1988 (T). 8:30 - 12:00. Taking coliform samples with Chris P. and John A. in Hog Creek.
June 8, 1988 (W). 9:00 - 5:00. Copy tax maps, Chris and I doing shoreline survey of Hog Creek.
June 9, 1988 (TH) 9:00 - 5:00. Tax lot maps for Acabonac, transferred houses from aerials to tax lot. Finished Hogh Creek.
June 10, 1988 (F) 9:00 - 3:00. Shoreline Survey Gerard Drive and Louse Point Road side of Accabonac Creek.
33.5 hours second week.
June 26th, 1988
ReplyDeleteSunday
No control of my mind. Thoughts come and go as they please. I can not, for a few consecutive minutes think of only one thing.
Things wanted in a boat:
1. Under 30'
2. sloop, gaff, or cutter
3. Less than 5' draft.
4. diesel (small)
5. epoxy or fiberglass (old)
6. propane
7. headroom
8. Irwin
9. Under $15,000
July 5, 1988
ReplyDeleteWent sailing/camping Sunday 3rd and Monday 4th.
Left Skip's (Shelter Island Marina) @ ~ 1:00 p.m. Sunday afternoon. Light winds 0-5 knots. Many power and sailboats out making big wakes. "Seasoned" just sloshed back and forth. Decided to drop anchor off of shore East of Inlet and house on Mashomack (sp?) Park. Swam to shore and walked to inlet. Large embayment behind beach. Access cut off by a wooden footbridge. Swam back to boat and read/napped. Less than an hour later the winds picked up to 10-15 knots. Less power boat noise. Sailed to Northwest Creek.
Dropped anchor south of bar/flat and read for about an hour. Lifted anchor and sailed via jib to northeast side of creek.
Passed an old converted lobster boat. Owners of which had a Town Class sailboat (same as "Seasoned") built for them this winter. Steve and Maureen were excited to see "Seasoned" and when they found she was the boat that they had sat in this winter at Skip's to get measurements and "feel" the setup, they wanted Gary and I to join them for coffee Monday morning.
Walked over to Northwest Harbor side and sat on an old jetty made of old bricks and concrete slabs. Watched the sun set and ate dinner.
Next Day, July 4th. Up with the sun after a dream-filled night sleeping on the long, narrow seats. A heavy dew coated the sleeping bags. Light wind 0-5 knots.
Rowed "Seasoned" to Steve and Maureen's boat. Had a great cup of coffee and toast with home-made grape jam. Filled with stories of the making of their Town Class, "Coot." Wonderful husband and wife.
Sailed back to Shelter Island with winds ranging from 0-5 knots. Mostly zero. On a rising tide.
Many power and powered sailboats going here and there generally sloshing water around. A good opportunity to practice self-control in a situation where you have no control.
July 8th, 1988
ReplyDeleteChris and I finished the shoreline survey of Three Mile Harbor by boat. Came back to the office and catalogued Napeague Harbor pictures while Chris started on Accabonac Harbor. Left work at 1:30 p.m.
Stopped by Bobby Van's to pick up vegetable scraps that Ron was saving for me. I met Ron Thursday morning on my wat to work. He was hitching by the 7-11 in Southampton. I stopped by the garden to water and deposit scraps. Ron was intrigued and said he would save for me Friday afternoon.
He had two spackle buckets of scraps for me. I put most of them around the celery and cauliflower. Hopefully they'll help slow down the drying out process.
Left for PA at ~3:00 p.m. Long drive w/ traffic especially heavy around Belt Parkway and Staten Island.
Beautiful sunset on Pennsylvania Turnpike. Reddish/orange ball of fire!
July13, 1988
ReplyDeleteTerry's birthday is today. I think Mom went to Diane and Bob's to help celebrate. That's a good thing. I'm looking forward to seeing Terry. It's been quite a while since I've visited.
Today was hardly a work day. Went in and worked on some pictures for the shoreline survey until about 10:30. Two guys named Steve came from the D.E.C. (New York State Department of Environmental Conservation) to visit the hatchery and answer questions about the shoreline survey, and itemize cost for materials for the hatchery. By the time we got back to Amagansett (the Lamb Building on Bluff Rd. where East Hampton Town Natural Resources and Planning were housed at that time) it was 2:30 p.m. So, Chris and I decided to make an early day of it. Tomorrow no work. (Chris and I were being paid hourly as sub-contractors.)
Went to the garden to do some watering. Stopped by Agawam Park to listen to a flutist and guitarist. The music was very good, but didn't seem to hold the audience's attention. This Wednesday night music at the park is a great idea. Very relaxing to hear live music out of doors.
Went running this morning. It felt good. Sweating hard when I got back to the house.
August 7th, 1988
ReplyDeleteKind of a queasy feeling settling over me. I need to get out of a relationship, but don't know why. I tell myself for simplicity sake, but don't know. I'm unsure. One of those after a family visit depressions I suppose.
I don't want to go back to old ways. Going along, going along. But I went along even with the new ways. That's all right. I suppose the key is an almost indefinite state. Simplicity for me is not simplicity for others.
8/9/1988
ReplyDeleteI ride in the car. Chris talks to me about his experiences with the Shinnecock Indians. "This chic is married to one guy and has a little girl and she's fucking this other guy. That's the way it is over there, you know. Anyway she comes in and her car starts smoking and flames are coming from under the hood. I get a fire extinguisher and start spraying. She jumps out yelling, 'Save me, save me.' Then she get the baby out and we put the fire out. You know she didn't even thank me or the other guy that helped put out her fire. What a cunt." (Chris's other job is at a Hess gas station.) And I'm thinking to myself, "Why?" A race of people who were so independent, true conservationists, a beautiful people now animals deep in slumber as the white man who destroyed them. I can't say that woman acted in a great way, people are taken from their natural livelihoods put in confines of a reservation and given subsidy after subsidy. Living off the able. Not only were they stripped of their land, but they were stripped of their character and identity. Doesn't anyone see that money is not he answer to all prayers?
Pencil sketch of a maple samara at bottom of page.
8/21/88
ReplyDeleteHere I am. Same sniveling, whining and complaining. Thinking about the destination instead of enjoying the trip. My life is very cyclical. Maybe my attention span.
Time alone. Go to the vacant space w/ only myself. Do I like this myself character?
Even though you're with someone you can still be alone.
You make your conditions and surroundings so no use blaming them as an excuse because they are not they. They are you. You can't get away from that can you?
Realize that the situation you say is boring is really your lack of imagination. The person you find dull is due to your dullness.
Mirror reflections are around us everywhere.
8/29/88
ReplyDeleteThinking about bringing "Chega" back. Daydreamed all the way back from Stony Brook
- Shroud/stay wires
- Homemade harness
- walnuts and raisins packed in luggage down
- sweater, foul weather gear
- Safety equipment:
E.P.I.R.B.
life jacket
lights, port and starboard, check Chapman's for lighting under power and sail
- fishing gear
- water distilling equipment
- sail ripstop tape
- charts plus photocopies of tide tables for all inlets, bays along the East coast
- lines/ropes
- gas can
Won't be long now A trip I want to make by myself. November's not too far of.
WORK LOG EAST HAMPTON TOWN NATURAL RESOURCES
ReplyDelete8/1/88 Monday - Water samples, Napeague, Northwest Creek. I drove. 9:00 - 5:00
8/2/88 Tuesday - no work
8/3/88 Wednesday - Clean up Montauk lab, plan location of upwellers, conicals, algae room. Chris drove. 9:00 - 4:00
8/4/88 Thursday - Spat collectors - 14 Three Mile Harbor (TMH). First between buoy/piling and grey house. Last between 4th house N. of S. Wolf and bulkheading N. of Hands Creek. Inventory Lion's Head Sand Bar. Measurements for half of docks/bulkheads in Hog Creek.9:00 - 5:00.
8/5/88 Friday - 1/2 day. Put 6 spat collectors in Northwest Creek and two in Northwest Harbor. 9:00 - 1:00.
8/8/88 Monday - Shoreline survey, Lake Montauk. Reorganizing data. Set up office downstairs at Lamb Building. Checked Larry's brakes (Larry Penny, Director of East Hampton Town Natural Resources. Checking brakes on his town truck.) Picked up CMS order. 9:00 - 3:30, 1/2 hr. lunch.
8/9/88 Tuesday - Inventoried order form CMS. Talked with Sue Talay. Picked up spat collectors from Northwest. Put them in whaler in Montauk. Set up fish tank downstairs at Lamb Building. Shoreline survey. Put spat collectors in place in Lake Montauk from water tower on hill to rounded house in the south to green marker south of Montauk Yacht Club in North. 9:00 - 6:30 1/2 hr. lunch.
8/10/88 Wednesday - Set up equipment for trawling. D.O. meter, salinity/temperature meter 1/2 day. Put fish tank together. 9:00 - 1:00.
8/11/88 Thursday - Sue's first day. Took Larry's pickup to L.M. (Lake Montauk) Used Whaler to trawl 3 southern most transects. Used scallop dredge and starfish sweeper. 9;00 - 5:00. 1/2 hr lunch.
8/12/88 Friday - Used Whaler to do trawl south of Star Island. 9:30 - 3:00.
8/15/88 Monday - Shore stations, T.M.H. Lined scallop dredges w/ 1/4' netting, made predator data sheets. 9:00 - 5:30. 1/2 hr. lunch.
ReplyDelete8/16/88 Tuesday - Dropped Chris off @ N.W. Creek. Worked with baymen in Lake Montauk using otter trawl on transect SE to NW. 9, 5 minute trawls. 10- 6:00. 1/2 hr. lunch.
End of Pay period.
8/17/88 Wednesday - Worked at office getting pump and well drilling equipment together, picked up channel lock, gas can and 2 shovels from hdwr store in E. Hampton, got 2 of 4 groundwater monitoring wells in place: Hand's Creek and Woodsma. 9:00 - 5:00. 1/2 hr. lunch.
8/18/88 Thursday - 17 trawls in Lake Montauk w/ Jens and Mitch Lester. 9- 5:30. 1/2 hr. lunch.
8/19/88 Friday - Finished yesterday's bottom salinities. Identified some algae from yesterday's trawls. 9- 5:00. 1/2 hr. lunch.
8/21/88 Sunday - Water samples Accabonac Harbor. 4- 7:30 p.m.
8/22/88 Monday - Kevin Maeir and I used bigger boat in T.M.H. for trawling and shellfish sampling. 9 - 4:30.
8/23/88 Tuesday - Jens, Mitch and I trawling in Lake Montauk. 9 - 5:00. 1/2 hr. lunch.
8/24/88 Wednesday - Water samples road ends. 9 - 4:30.
8/25/88 Thursday - Work on sieve boxes, Sue, Chris, John and I to Montauk w/ big boat to do shellfish sampling.
8/26/88 Friday - Jens, Mitch and I trawling in Lake Montauk. 9 - 5:00. 1/2 hr. lunch.
8/29/88 Monday - Shoreline survey, bottom grab equipment, culvert/road end water sampling drove to Stony Brook. 8 - 4:30.
18 September 1988
ReplyDelete"Seasoned" sailed Gary and I over to Coecles Harbor yesterday. Plans to sail out to Napeague (Harbor) for the day were scratched because weather forecasts were raining.
We had a little rain on our row/sail back around Mashomack Park. More rain than wind. Almost made it to the green can near the South Ferry when a guy named John offered to tow us over to Skip's. Since it was getting dark, the tide was still going out and we hadn't seen any other boats pass in the last half hour we decided to take John up on his offer.
I thought out loud on the ferry-ride back to the truck that it was a good thing we got a lift seeing as how now it was dark and raining.
That "Seasoned" is a good little boat. If I can just get the balls enough to go on a trip with her without being overly worried about the weather, I'd get further.
Sitting at this desk is pretty depressing. Continual reminders of my lack of will power coupled with no organization are taking their financial toll on me.
My mind is child-like. Attention span is short. I sit to meditate in the morning and thoughts blow across my mind like fall winds on the water. Keep plugging away though. It's a time to sit with legs crossed. At least I'm not running around trying to do. This pencil's getting dull. Is that the only thing?
9/19/88 Monday - Sediment analysis, ph, h20 samples till 1:30, 2:00 - 4:30 trawling Accabonac w/ Alex and Connie (Alex's wife). 9:00 - 5:00. 1/2 hr. lunch.
Delete9/20/88 Tuesday - Trawling Accabonac with Alex and Connie. 8:30 - 5:00. 1/2 hr. lunch.
9/21/88 Wednesday - Alex's boat wouldn't start. Helped Sue w/ sediment samples from Napeague. 10:00 - 5:00. 1/2 hr. lunch.
9/22/88 Thursday - Trawled middle reaches of Accabonac Hbr w/ Alex. 8:30 - 5:00. 1/2 hr. lunch.
9/23/88 Friday - Trawled near inlet to Accabonac w/ Alex. Winds closed us out. Returned to basement at 12:30. Worked on Napeague sediment samples w/ Sue, Rich and John. 8:30 - 5:00. 1/2 hr. lunch. Alex's birthday.
9/24/88 Saturday - Helped Sue w/ Napeague sediment samples. 2:30 - 5:00.
9/26/88 Monday - Water samples Lake Montauk and Three Mile Harbor. Reviewed transects off Three Mile Hbr. with Sue. 9:00 - 5:30. 1/2 hr. lunch.
9/27/88 Tuesday - Accabonac Hbr. east Harbor done by 1:00. Worked on sediment samples w/ Sue and Chris. 8:30 to 4:30. 1/2 hr. lunch.
9/28/88 Wednesday - Trawl Hog Creek w/ Alex. 9:00 - 5:00. 1/2 hr. lunch.
9/29/88 Thursday - Sediment samples w/ Sue. 9:00 - 4:30. 1/2 hr. lunch.
9/30/88 Friday - Finished trawl Hog Creek w/ Alex. Sediment samples w/ Sue after lunch. 9:00 - 5:00. 1/2 hr. lunch.
10/3/88 Monday - Trawl Fresh Pond w/ Jens, afternoon. Morning: scallop dredge in path of dredging in Napeague w/ Jens/ picked up scallop dredge. 9:00 - 5:30. 1/2 hr. lunch.
10/4/88 Tuesday - Worked on sediment samples w/ Sue in morning. Shoreline survey - culverts and drains in afternoon. Talk w/ Larry @ home. 9:00 - 5:00. 1/2 hr. lunch.
10/5/88 Wednesday - Trawl w/ John Northwest Creek. 9:00 - 5:00. 1/2 hr. lunch.
10/6/88 Thursday - Chris, John and I trawl Northwest Creek. 9:00 - 5:00. 1/2 hr. lunch.
10/7/88 Friday - John and I trawl Northwest Creek. 9:00 - 12:30.
10/11/88 Tuesday - John and I trawl Northwest Creek. 9:00 - 5:00. No lunch.
10/12/88 Wednesday - Sue, John and I clam in T.M.H. 9:00 - 5:00. 1/2 hr. lunch
10/13/88 Thursday - Chris, John and I clam in Accabonac. 9:00 - 5:00. 1/2 hr. lunch.
Delete10/14/88 Friday - John, Rick (Salter) and I clam in Accabonac. (;00 - 5:00. 1/2 hr. lunch.
10/17/88 Monday - Sue and I work over bottom samples for Accabonac. 8:30 - 4:00. 1/2 hr. lunch.
10/18/88 Tuesday - Sue, Chris and I work on Accabonac bottom samples.9:00 - 5:00. 1/2 hr. lunch.
10/19/88 Wednesday - I worked on drainage cards for Larry. 9:00 - 4:30. 1/2 hr. lunch.
19 October 1988
ReplyDeleteWell, time for the monthly entry. Finally made an over-nighter to Napeague. The last possible chance. I was going home the next weekend to pick Bruno (German short-haired pointer that Dad bought for Tom in 197.5 Bruno ended up coming back to Mom and Dad because he liked to wander and got into some trouble with a female pure breed in Herndon, VA.) for a visit. The last weekend in September. I got to "Seasoned" early Saturday morning, a strong 10-15 knot wind blowing. Headed out with some difficulty when puffs caught me unaware. I realized I was alone so I put on my life jacket and kept it on till I got to Napeague. The winds pushed me along at a good clip and I experimented with trying to have the boat steer herself but without rubber tubing it was no good.
Slept like hell Saturday night because I thought it was going to get light any moment.
The winds stayed strong but switched to the east and sometimes northeast. I had a hell of a time getting out the western inlet to Napeague cause the tide was rushing in and the wind was blocked by a dredger when I needed it's strength the most. Had to jump ship after I ran her aground so I could pull her through the quick waters. Pretty hair-raising experience after a peaceful walk on Hick's Island and swim before my departure. I was afraid the winds would drop if the rain came so that's why I was leaving early. I'm so quick to blame everything else for my rushing around, but in all truth I'm the one who's creating the pressurized environment in the first place. I'm a lousy master. Need some training.
Tyrant or not, it was a good idea to leave early. The winds were strong and the tide was flooding all the way home. A quick trip. Educational though.
Now "Seasoned" is in the garage resting peacefully for the winter. What a great teacher life is! Things do work out.
10/20/88 Thursday - John and I in office working with map and drainage data. 9:00 - 4:30. 1/2 hr. lunch.
Delete10/21/88 Friday - I continued working on drainage map plus sheets and cards. 9:00 - 4:30. 1/2 hr. lunch.
October 23, 1988
ReplyDeleteLast page (of this journal):
A lot of changes since December 20, 1986. I'm either writing more, or wasting more space since the last book.
Moving into the fall. Strong winds buffeted the trees last night. The leaves that were ready to go, went. A second fall display on the way? Lucky if it is.
The sun is cutting through the blue holes in the clouds. Bitsy's (Mae Seff, Gary's Mom's dog, a Weimeraner, who is staying with us while Mae is in Florida for the winter) barking at my whistling. Soothing music in the background. My later entries have reverted back to mere gripe sessions at the way my oh so tender ego is being treated. A lesson in squelching the ego audible will take place this week featuring Craig at the control knobs. Each day I will write of this goal. And at the end of each day I will report my experiences with ego quieting. Removal of self from ego. An exercise, a calesthenic, for emotional physiology. At the end of each day, objective reporting coming from a person, me, who has pulled the ego out of the picture. A blank wall person. Can you report a day's goings on without including the ever present I and how it effected me?
Scribblings/notes on the back page/cover:
Cedar experiment: January 1988
Wrapped in wet paper towel and placed in refrigerator n= 26.
Planted directly, n= 36.
Planted January 3
"Girl from Epanema" Stan Geotz, Julio Gioberto
Until next Saturday:
Cabin 54
YMCA
Camp Letts
P.O. Box 208
Edgewater, MD 21037
Ace Hardware $33.00
BOOKS:
"Raiders and Rebels" Frank Sherry
"Piloting" Chapman's
"Shipshape" Fenrec Mate
Aug 22 - Bob's
Aug 13 - Diane and Bob's Anniversary
Jazz Center of New York
380 Lafayette St. near east 4th Street
10/24/88 Monday - Sue and I worked up sediment samples from Accabonac and Northwest Creek. 9:00 - 4:30. 1/2 hr. lunch.
DeleteA final note on the...the Water Mill Acre that I rented summer 1987 and 1988 to create a garden.
ReplyDeleteThe first year I rented the acre, I was emulating Mansonobu Fukoka, a Japanese extension agent who wrote a book "The One Straw Revolution" describing his no-till approach to growing rice and high yields it produced. The jist, he covered his rice seed in clay then free broadcast the seed in plots that had a cover crop of rye or clover. The cover crops were cut by hand using a scythe, at least that's what I did since the acre I rented had a crop of winter wheat growing on it when I started. The debris was allowed to decompose and helped hold moisture in the soil for the germinating rice seeds. He didn't flood his rice fields as was the custom in Japan but apparently had very good results. He also noted the many benefits that came from not using machines to cut crops due to the machine's weight compressing the soil...
When I returned to PA after working on "Innisfree" in the Bahamas, Mom and I drove to a grain and feed store, in Mechanicsburg, PA where I bought 50 lbs of medium red clover along with veggie seeds noted in the journal. Then brought them back to Mom's house spread the seed out on newspaper in the driveway and then covered the seed with beautiful red clay characteristic of York County, PA, from the yard. After it dried, I filled the bag up with my 50+ lbs of clay-covered seed and boarded an Amtrak to New York, then a Long Island Railroad train to Southampton. My friend Rich Muller, I think Gary was there to greet me at the train station too, laughed when they saw my with my big bag of clay-covered seed getting off the train in Southampton...what a funny/odd sight...typical Craig as time will tell....
The next few journals I have cover the same time periods. One is a work log that I kept while working for East Hampton Town in the Natural Resources Department until the summer of 1989 and then while working at the East Hampton Town Shellfish Hatchery from October 1990 through early 1992. I kept these logs because I was employed as a sub-contractor and submitted invoices for my hours.
ReplyDeleteIn early 1992, I was hired as a full-time employee by East Hampton Town and employed at the Shellfish Hatchery. This was made possible due to ~$25,000 donation to the East Hampton Town Shellfish Hatchery from a "Back to the Ranch" concert in Montauk in 1991 featuring Billy Joel and Paul Simon among other artists and benefitting local environmental groups/projects such as the Shellfish Hatchery.
For what it's worth, I'll just combine the journals chronologically.
10/25/88 Tuesday - Cataloged Three Mile Harbor. Took base map of East Hampton to Walbridge Surveyors for copies. Put dots on map for Suffolk County Map of Drainage. 9:00 - 5:00. 1/2 hr. lunch.
ReplyDelete25 October 1988
I can't go skiing with Diane and Bob this Christmas - time and money are the major factors. I hem and haw and end up not saying a word. You chicken. Where's your spine? It's no big deal. This is pretty funny when you think about it. Of all things to worry abut in the world, I'm all anxious about telling my own flesh and blood I can't go skiing. What a joke!
10/26/88 Wednesday - At Larry's until 11:00 waiting for him to type up last minute work. (The Natural Resources Department Director, Larry Penny, was diagnosed with Lyme's Disease and sometimes worked from home, having me stop by his house on the way to work to pick up his work.) Helped Sue finish up last of Northwest Creek samples. Started working on organization of Predator Surveys. 11:00 - 4:30.
26 October 1988
Another day. It's in the thirties. The sun's not up yet. Bruno's sitting at my feet getting ready to whine. Bitsy's sitting at the edge of the rug like a statue. She approaches when I wave. Carefully, she picks her course around Bruno to my patting hand. Bruno looks at me when I pat her. I pat them both and tell them they are good dogs. When I'm through patting, Bitsy goes back to her edge of the rug and lies down. Bruno's whine is now audible.
10/27/88 Thursday - Finished cataloging TMH pictures. Organized predator surveys into transects in each harbor. Ran one dried sediment sample through shaker and figured out % composition. Made copies of maps for each harbor, then enlarged each to fit on a page. 9:00 - 4:00.
27 October 1988
"Morning has broken, like the new day.
Blackbirds has spoken, tum te tum tum."
Excuse me...I had to go open the front door to let the sun in. Unfortunately, the cold man is his guest and fellow traveler during this time of year.
The bay window and two panels of glass in the outer door are covered with condensation. When the sun appears on the scene and lingers, trails slide down the panes. One after another, sometimes together, sometimes finishing as another is starting. So goes the morning waterfall. As each drop slides it catches the sun in its center, bursting out like a falling star. The process carries on until puddles form at the bottom of each pane and the windows turn glass-like again.
The remaining birds sing their morning songs. But, it's much quieter now than the raucous sounds of a spring morn. The crows, the mocking birds, maybe even a Cardinal.
29 October 1988
ReplyDeleteAt Mom's
Spent the day driving through Harrisburg looking at the changes that have taken place over the years. Saw some of Aunt Bern's houses and the house where Mom lived when she, Uncle George and Gramma moved to Harrisburg. Same Mom's high school; William Penn, and Italian Lake. 1939 is when Mom graduated from high school. Her 50th Reunion is next summer. She's quite a woman. So caring and giving. But, hard on herself. I look at her senior picture and am amazed. They talk of her future in commercial art. I wonder what she was hoping to do then. A blank slate. Having her own hopes but willing to cast them off so that they don't get in others' way. Others pick up the chalk and paints and before she knows patterns are emerging from her slate. Now the outer artist is gone and she's left alone to decipher the cryptic messages her tablets hold. Years of burying her hopes, her goals have finally taken hold. She has divorced herself from ego/self for others... She does this for all. Caught between wanting to do what she wants to do and feeling obligated to do for others. Realizing she doesn't know what to do for herself and being demanded to do for others. The time slips away as you do for others, not realizing what to do for yourself. You do for others first because it is known and for yourself last because it is unknown. Time slips away.
The blank slate is hard to maintain because so many people want to write on it. Then if you are successful at maintaining the bank, you realize that it has been filled with ways of maintaining blankness, and struggles of maintenance.
Blue-ink pen sketches.
1. Bronze sailboat I own, a gift/award from the Penn State Sailing Club.
2. One of five black "vessels" Mom and Dad got in Peru. This one has a face on one side.
10/31/88 Monday - Flagged wetlands w/ Jim (Cavanaugh. He and John
Aldred were both full time employees with East Hampton Town Natural Resources when Chris and I, then Sue were hired "part-time" for the Shellfish Inventory Study.) Montauk: Essex, Fairview, South Geneva Ct., Checked lot on Gravesend for wetland. Three Mile Harbor: Tidal lot next to Gardiner's Marina. Worked on shoreline survey photos of Lake Montauk. 9:00 - 5:00. 1/2 hr. lunch. (East Hampton Town required homeowners to submit surveys with wetland lines included so that set backs from the wetlands could be honored. Wetlands were determined by specific species of plants on the property. Jim and I attached pink tape to the upper most of the wetland plants to form a line across the property that surveyors would then locate on maps for the property owners.)
11/1/88 Tuesday - Rain, finished shoreline survey. Worked on predator survey. 9:00 - 4:30. 1/2 hr. lunch.
11/2/88 Wednesday - Presented organized shoreline survey to John. Worked on Predator survey and cleaning up office. 9:00 - 5:00. 1/2 hr. lunch.
11/3/88 Thursday - Flagging wetlands. Accabonac, Three Mile Harbor, lot next to Gardiner's Marina. Road end/ramp Three Mile Harbor Drive. Bluff on Oyster Shores Rd. 9:00 - 4:30. 1/2 hr. lunch.
November 3rd, 1988
A day of sun followed by tow of clouds, rain and wind. The sun returns and the wind remains.
Busy days ahead. I wake up early this morning. My own clock. I lay in bed thinking about sleeping, but not really feeling tired. Thoughts parade through my mind. I can't stop them. Useless, trivial thoughts; not bad, not good. Just there. Like a TV turned on for background noise.
The sun is here earlier now that the clocks have been turned back. I guess we're pretending the sun's here earlier. The sun stays the same, it's only OUR perception of it's comings and goings that's changed. Strange as it seems this hour difference is hard to accommodate. My body is still on the old time. I'll try to stay with the old time. Because I was getting up later and later as the sun. I'll just follow the sun.
11/4/88 Friday - Drove to Pleasantville, NJ. Aquaculture workshop. 9:00 - 5:00 1.5 hr. lunch.
ReplyDelete6 November 1988
Poison ivy on my face. A party last night.
The weekend is over. I feel.
Confused.
What do things mean?
Making somethings out of nothing. But remember.
I'm free.
This is your life, take it, steer it, command it.
You can not just do nothing. Around other
people. You tell yourself that, and then you believe
it. You never will understand. It doesn't
matter.
Sleep.
11/7/88 Monday - Flagging wetlands in morning. Took H20 samples to Stony Brook (New York State Department of Environmental Conservation). 9:00 - 4:30. No lunch.
11/8/88 Tuesday - Worked w/ Gary and Mike (Fountainhead Construction). 7:00 - 4:30.
11/9/88 Wednesday - Flagging wetlands w/ Jim and Larry, Belle Estate. 9:00 - 4:30. 1/2 hr. lunch.
November 9, 1988
Cryptic aye? (arrow pointing to last written journal entry from 6 November)
Wednesday morning. The election is over and George Bush has won. Oh well. Time will tell. A crazy thing this election.
I tried to explain a theory relating TV to people thinking we need to make the campaigning/election goings on a shorter process. I didn't do a very good job. But I am afraid the TV mode, where things move quickly and are ever changing has helped promote this feeling. People watch TV and in that they see the campaign ads. A point brought up by Gary, the candidates start campaigning way before the primaries. Is this true? Put it aside, remember it. So point differences:
My point: people want quick changing action. So election process doesn't hold their attention.
Gary's point: People are bombarded w/ people campaigning ahead of necessary time and tire of election.
Rich's point: Doesn't feel that TV can be implicated.
Back to my theory. Upon further explanation (probably some one else's that I read somewhere) I propound this idea that people who watch TV every night, or, say, every other night are used to a half hour to at most two-hour framework. Thereby a story is unfolded, dealt with and solved in a certain amount of time. In this time usually a large amount of action occurs thus making people more interested in watching the show than in creating their own action. It's easier to watch someone else doing things than it is to think of for yourself to do.
Enough with this theory. I've been reprimanded by my house peers to quiet down on the TV tape lest they lynch me for proselytizing (to convert from one faith to another). I had to look it up to make sure I was using it right.
11/10/88 Thursday- Fresh Pond Shellfish survey, in morning and early afternoon. Sediment analysis. 9:00 - 4:30. 1/2 hr. lunch.
ReplyDelete11/11/88 Friday - Worked with Gary and Mike (Fountainhead Construction.)
11 November 1988
Saturday morning.
Warm morning sun on my legs and feet. No clouds in the sky. A few flowers, geranium and dahlia, are brightening the front window.
Thinking about breakfast. A mug of tea heats up my hand. No sounds except the hum of the refrigerator motor and the washing machine way off in the distance. A big fly bouncing off the roof (ceiling). It stops in a corner and walks. Now it's stopped.
A void exists over all. What causes a creative existence?
11/14/88 Monday - Sue and I worked on shellfish survey Hog Creek. 9:00 - 4:00. 1/2 hr. lunch.
11/15/88 Tuesday - Chris, Sue and I seine in Napeague. 9:00 - 4:30. 1/2 hr. lunch.
11/16/88 Wednesday - Sue and I finished shellfishing/seining in Hog Creek. 9:00 - 5:00. 1/2 hr. lunch.
16 November 1988
Last night, laying on the couch, Bitsy curled up asleep between my legs, I read my book. No one around. Gary was in the garage working on his car (1961 MGA). I felt guilty for laying there. Not doing anything. I thought it wasn't a good thing for me to lay there reading. I get up in the morning and run, go to work, come home, eat dinner, read, go to bed. New day. Something outside of me, I let come in and distract me. It says what I want to do will lead me into a rut. I remember how Dad used to lay on the couch in the winter evenings and read, read, read. Nothing wrong with that, all though at the time I think I held it against him. Why? I don't know. Maybe because he seemed perfectly content to spend each and every evening laying on the couch reading. Outside voices are a bane. I think it takes a strong person/mind to turn off those voices and do as you please. Don't worry about what will happen the next night, the day after today, or the next night. This is the moment to live now. Too much time is spent thinking ahead. That's where those voices take their que to jump[ in and play their tapes. I live always tomorrow. Piling hopes, should, shouldn't on what is to come totally missing what is here.
11/17/88 Thrusday. Late. Morning shellfish sampling Kalikow, Lake Montauk in afternoon. Rainy. Chris and I. Also water samples for D.E.C. 10:00 - 5:30 no lunch.
ReplyDelete17 November 1988
Another day. Thinking to myself as I clean up the edges of my beard. Things shouldn't be taken so seriously. Life shouldn't be taken so seriously. Living is fun. It's not so hard to enjoy. Good things are happening, bad things are happening. Life is happening, good and bad. Sit through each moment. Don't try to rush it along. If skiing works out, I'll go. Then I'll visit Ed and Georgette and kids before I go to "Chega." It all shall work. Give time. It will all work out.
Later in Another Day: Driving home I get into a funky mood. It's strange how these moods can come along and get me worked down without my realizing what's going on. It seems like this happens when I'm tired. I sort of loose a healthy sense of important and unimportant. Things that normally wash right off get lodged under the surface, and like any other sore, gets picked, picked and examined until it is rejected. I'm almost to the rejection point. But what energies to spend on mental manglings.
It was rainy this morning, after Bitsy and I got our run in. It rained most of the day and was cloudy until about 4:00.
Chris and I were in Lake Montauk within ten minutes, a clear spot to the north spread across the whole sky. Big, fluffy grey clouds moved across the sky, whites turning to reds then pink ten grey. A great sight!
Terry's out west some where. He and Gretchen (woman Terry began dating after he and Ann split) are camping or working or both. Somewhere. I wonder how they're doing? You know it's kind of strange. I have questions for Terry, but when we talk the answers end up to be "yes" or "no." Not much is said, unless I start talking about what's going on with me. It's kind of a nervous talk, too. I guess I'm afraid of the silent spots. And when you're on the phone you're supposed to talk, right? I should find a mailing address.
11/18/88 Friday - Worked on watershed map for Larry. 8:00 - 5:00. 1/2 hr. lunch.
(Notes in the journal show that I'm being paid $8/hr.)
11/21/88 Monday - Finished watershed map. Started organizing predator surveys on to yellow paper. Went to Montauk Lab w/ John to drop off boxes and materials that were cluttering up the basement/garage at Bluff Rd office in Amagansett. 9:00 - 4:00.
ReplyDelete11/22/88 Tuesday - Wetland flagging w/ Jim. Checked two lots Geraard Drive. Organizing predator surveys on yellow sheets. 9:00 - 5:00. 1/2 hr. lunch.
11/23/88 Wednesday - Wetland flagging w/ Jim. Barne's Hole Rd. neighborhood. and Gardiner's Marina. 9:00 - 12:00.
11/24,25/88 Thursday and Friday off for Thanksgiving.
11/28/88 Monday - Predator survey on to yellow sheets. 9:00 - 4:30.
11/29/88 Tuesday - Seined with Chris (?) and Sue, Lake Montauk. 9:00 5:00. 1/2 hr. lunch.
11/30/88 Wednesday - John and I picking up bottom samples.
12/1/88 Thursday - Seined w/ Chris. Accabonac and T.M.H. east side. 9:00 - 5:00. 1/2 hr. lunch.
12/2/88 Friday - Organized predator surveys on to yellow sheets. 9:00 - 4:30 no lunch.
12/5/88 Monday - Collecting water samples for D.E.C. Accabonack and Hog Creek, no boat. Used blue truck to collect samples then drove to Stony Brook. 9:00 - 5:00. No lunch.
12/6/88 Tuesday - Seined w/ Chris. Fresh Pond - 2 seines. Northwest Creek - 2 seines. Three Mile Harbor - west 5 seines. 9:00 - 5:00. 1/2 hr. lunch.
12/7/88 Wednesday - Well watching - Lake Montauk. Sea and Sky well and Milne wells (5). Also put predator survey on yellow sheets. 9:00 -5:00. No lunch.
12/8/88 Thursday - Predator survey on to yellow sheets. 9:00 - 5:00 1/2 hr. lunch.
12/9/88 Friday - 9:00 - 5:00. 1/2 hr. lunch.
12/12/88 Monday - Finished organizing predator survey. 10:00 - 4:15. No lunch.
ReplyDelete12/13/88 Tuesday - Maps for shoreline survey Hog Creek. Fateful day for L.P. (Larry Penny). 9:00 - 5:00. 1/2 hr. lunch.
12/14/88 Wednesday - Finished map for shoreline of Hog Creek. Decided to use straight tax maps. Topo overlays differ/too much info . Redo map of Hog Creek. Put on houses and other info. 9:00 - 4:30. 1/2 hr. lunch.
12/15/88 Thursday - More shoreline survey of Hog Creek. Finished. Started work on Accabonac map. 9:00 - 4:30. 1/2 hr. lunch. Took Chris to Riverhead to pick up his car.
12/16/88 Friday - Work on Accabonac map plus Napeague Map. 8:30 - 2:30.
December 17, 1988
ReplyDeleteRecycling:
A topic on which to write a book.
A handbook to recycling:
How to
Why
Methods
Info/basic facts
Trees/newspaper
waste/person/year
landfills
How to:
First stage:
Newspapers - how much newsprint. % of wastestream
Why should a person even bother to waste his precious time sorting, washing, peeling? Look at it from the money side. It's cheaper. Pure and simple. Why would anybody care to pick up and read a manual on recycling in the first place?
Well, in case you haven't noticed the landfills are closing one by one. The cost of getting rid of garbage is going up. The plastics that we package our processed foods with have laid in America's dumps not decaying for years. Along with diapers, newspapers, tin cans, glass containers, and old appliances.
12/18/88 Sunday - Work on Accabonac map. Set up info for water sampling Napeague and Northwest Creek 12:00 - 3:30.
12/19/88 Monday. H2O samples/shoreline survey with (Bay Constable) Jim Finch. Ice on southwest corner of Napeague (too thick to drive boat through) Thin ice on 75% of harbor. Northwest Creek frozen solid. 1/2 from south end. Thicker ice in rest, but could be driven (boat) through. Worked on base maps with Sue from 1:00 on. 8:30 - 4:30 1/2 hr. lunch.
12/20/88 Tuesday - Worked on base maps Accabonac and Napeague. 9:00 - 4:30. 1/2 hr. lunch.
12/21/88 Wednesday - More map work. Received paperwork from lawyers plus money from Mom and Bob. (Gary and I drove to Constableville, NY on a previous weekend to look at properties for sale. The first one we saw, a 100 acre piece of wooded property on the Tug Hill plateau, knee-deep in snow, we put a purchase offer on. I love snow! When I shared with family what we'd done, Bob kindly offered that Mom and Diane could act as the bank providing the money to purchase the property at 10% interest...pretty close to the going interest rates at that time, I believe.)
December 21 1988
Here I am again. Sitting at the beach near work. So, for the past year and a half I've been keeping a "journal." Not really though. Not something I coud spend half an hour to an hour writing in every day. And why is that?
Well, I think it's because I had to edit half of it, at least, in my head before the signal went to my hand to write. I was editing in my head because "if anyone ever found this and read what was really going on people would get hurt!"
So why bother writing here? This is for me and no one else to read. This is mine, for my eyes only. If anyone else should read this I wish them to rot in hell.
I'm going to write whatever I damn well please. Finis.
Already it feels better. Terry got me here. Thanks, Terry.
Now the pages will be filled with my unbridled, uncomposed, decomposed thoughts. Even if it's all bad that's the way it shall be. Every day I'll turn to these lined pages and scribble something. I have to.
12/22/88 Thursday - Map work. 9:00 - 4:00. 1 hr. lunch with Chris, Sue and Jim.
12/23/88 Friday - Map work. 9:00 - 4:00. 1/2 hr. lunch.
December 24th, 1988
ReplyDeleteChristmas Eve at home with Mom. Rainy all day, but Mom and I worked on getting food together for Christmas dinner tomorrow. Now it's getting dark. The blue-grey-black colors everything outdoors.
What a great place. Looking around home is clear pictures of kids and family all over. The top third of the Christmas tree in a crock at the end of the couch. Decorations and lights with presents underneath.
Family is a great thing. Friends too. How am I so lucky to have the best friends and family I could ever hope for? I should treat them better and realize these thoughts everyday instead of just this time of year!
Christmas 1988
I'm stuffed. Turkey that I am. Mom, Bruno, and I went to Grandma's to celebrate with Grandma and Aunt Doris. Mom took care of the esentials and Grandma had the mashed potatoes and AD brought desert. We must've eaten for four or five hours straight. A lot of talking, mostly Aunt Doris, drinking champagne, eating, drinking, talking, eating, drinking, talking and a partial game of rummy five hundred. Things are forever the same with Grandma and Aunt Doris. Aunt Doris feels like Grandma's all ways criticizing her. And Grandma doesn't understand what she's done to upset her. It's the same. Same story every time I'm home. And for Mom I suppose it's the same story every time she picks up the phone. But, come to think of it they're just like people any where. No matter where you go, there you are. Maybe not yourself exactly, but parts as seen by someone else. What does it all mean? Excuse me, walk this way a second. See? (I've drawn a picture of a hallway leading to a distant doorway in blue ink.) At the end of that hallway is a door. Let's open that door. (I've drawn another blue pen drawing of an open door with long hallway leading to another closed door.) Why, look it's another door back there.
That's the answer. Get it? Like wow man, isn't it all sooo cosmic? Like you open one door and there's a long hallway with a door at the end of it. And like, you know, you walk groovily down to the other door, sometimes the walk seems like forever, and then you get to the next door and you open it up and like totally far out...another long hallway with a door at the end of it! Like you could live your whole life waling from one door to the next in this far out world of ours. It's pretty funny when you think about it. And it's all so bloody serious when you forget about it. As I told Aunt Doris today...nothing matters, not really. Can't we see. The only things that matter are what we make "matter." I can say this, but I don't know if I really believe it. Deep down in the marrow of my bones. It's a nice little intellectual or unintellectual idea. But even that is all. Realizing that nothing matters doesn't even matter. HEAVY. Hard to believe, but it must be so, well then again it doesn't have to be if it doesn't matter. You know another thing though? When you say "nothing matters" to other people they say "Well, I'd like to believe that it does matter." Or, "There must be some meaning to it all." Or, "there must be some answer." Like the way I feel deep down inside.
Maybe if you can believe that "nothing matters" deep down inside and go on as if thing matters then maybe you would not take life so hard. You wouldn't be so upset if you don't get that Town position with insurance benefits plus pay raise. Or you wouldn't be so bummed out if your hair all fell out. Life goes on, man, and it doesn't care if you like what it's giving you or not. This is all easy to say coming from a dude who pretty much has gotten everything he's wanted all his life. It could almost disqualify any validity/credibility in what I just said. But, I don't think so because this philosophy is personal. So if it's personal, I guess I shouldn't go spoutin' it around as if it's a general truth. Cause it ain't.
26 December 1988
ReplyDeleteHere I am sitting at my desk naked. It's 11:00 p.m. and I'm sitting here naked. Kind of exciting for me. I like being naked. My penis is starting to get bigger...almost an erection. Now an erection.
This body of mine, I want to use it. I'm shivering a bit. Now the penis is deflating. I'm a little worried that when Mom comes out of the bathroom she's going to knock on my door to say something and I'm gong to have to jump back in bed and pull the sheets up over me and act as if I was laying there reading.
It reminds me of being a kid and how I used to be naked in my room with the door shut and only the fish tank light on. I don't know why I liked that so much. Sometimes I'd take baby oil and rub it on my legs and on my penis just because it felt good. Then I'd masturbate. That got a rise out of the old penis. Sometimes I'd take the round llama rug and lay on the ground (wall to wall carpeted floor) with it pulling it up over my body. What an incredible sensation. Sometimes when no one was home I'd get a mirror and watch myself masturbate in front of it. Exciting. I'd like to make love to a woman. Remember the time I went with Suzy Swift to Burlington, Vermont? (While I was a camp counseler at Raquette Lake Boys Camp teaching boardsailing and sailing. She taught water skiing at Raquette Lake Girls Camp on the other side of the Raquette Lake.) We went to a great bed and breakfast. That was the first and closest I came to making love with a woman. I need to make love to a woman. I couldn't make love to Suzy because I was scared. Too drunk, but mostly too scared. I made all kinds of excuses to myself afterwards. That was a truly sleepless night. Talk about embarrassed. Now I'm covered up. I thought Mom was heading back to her room. What a kid I still am. Get up you faggot and sit down at your desk naked. Sure you can do it because you heard Mom go into the bathroom, and you know that you'll be done here by the time you finish this page. But maybe not because Mom just walked out of the bathroom and into her room. I was unbelievably embarrassed (back to thinking about my experience with Suzy Swift). I felt that I must not be a real man. I wouldn't joke about it/nothing. What a crazy relationship that was. So fucking funny and I didn't even laugh once. Start laughing now and keep on because there's a hell of a lot to laugh at when I get to live.
This writing is a damned good thing. I have to tell Gary no more until I've made love to a woman. Pretty immature stuff considering that nothing matters but what the hell, it's what I feel. Enough messing around. Live it. Drink it in. That's what it's there for.
Tuesday.
ReplyDeleteEarly afternoon. Soon time to go back to my home. I like going home - both ways. I'm excited to get either place. This Christmas has gone quick but it's been a good visit. Plenty of time to be away from my old habits, routines, surroundings and thoughts. Thank God for time away from those old thoughts. Maybe though it's not the thoughts that I'm glad to be away from, but the lack of thought. I have good programs for myself when I go back, but after a while I get lazy. I can't fight with myself, discipline myself to keep on so they drop off to the side. That's when I start getting tired, uptight and generally a pain in the ass to live and work with.
The sun's shining through the bay window as I sit at the desk and write. The sky isn't without clouds. Mom and Dad, arm in arm, stare out of a picture frame at me. Bruno's asleep, snoring on the floor. And Mom is napping on the couch. A squirrel runs back and forth across the neighbor's lawn. And I think what is being written here is ho hum, dull stuff. Just like the sketches that I've stopped. No time. Bullshit. There's always time to think stupid thoughts about me always having to clean the stovetop, take out the trash and generally do things that anyone else would have to do if they were living with or without other people. So why al the uptightness, structure? If you don't feel like doing those mundane tasks, don't do them. You must be able to enjoy the things, everything you do or it's a waste of time. Sincerely, no one else may believe it but that doesn't matter. If you believe it that's all I need. This is starting to sound like a tape that gets played over and over and over. But then maybe it's played time and again because it's never acted on.
That's it. Don't waste this last space. Write in it. I don't like waste either food, garbage, paper. What else is there? And why don't I like waste? What is waste? A good question.
12/28/88 Wednesday - Maps. 9:00 - 5: 30. 1/2 hr. lunch.
ReplyDeleteWednesday
Home again last night. Saw Karen and Joe on the way back. After a year and a half of marriage they still seem a perfect couple. Mutual respect, trust, love exude not in an effusive, gushy way either. They're like clockwork together. Synchronized and harmonious. It's a two way street and they both look like they're doing their share. Really felt good to see them and talk about what we've all been up to. I sat down and an hour and a half flew by. The sun went down, darkness came on and I knew I had to go. I don't think we'll lose touch. (We did.)
I got back (to Southampton) at about 10:00 p.m. My buddy was still up, but just getting ready to hit the hay. After I unpacked all the goodies: cookies, fruit, presents from Mom, Gary and I told our holiday stories then went to bed. I still can't get over my luck with friends and family. I won't dwell on it though. Just acknowledging.
So I've been wondering about this idea of "nothing matters." Just trying to figure out ramifications of the idea. It's a silly thought process because it seems that by trying to find a definition or a reason that destroys the whole concept. Why does nothing matter? The question engulfs itself. It's like a black whole/whole. The reasoning, anyway, that I've been scrunching my thoughts has been going: Nothing matters - so we chose to make certain things matter. Or, better yet, we pretend that certain things matter, but realize that in the end, or ultimately, nothing matters. That way we're not expecting anything. so when every thing falls flat; when and if it should, having believed that nothing matters, we are not crushed or upset. So this reasoning looks like I'm trying to set up a means and ends. Nothing matters: means. Crushed expectations: no hurt, no pain. But can and should it be used this way? Well, you can do whatever you want because.... (you guessed it) NOTHING MATTERS. But what about murder, rape, usery, adultery, jealousy, lust? What about these things? How do they fit in? God, Nature. God has given us freedom. To do as we pleased to be free thinking women and men. But the churches don't teach that. They've made people into sheep. Beaten them into submission. Not even baten, talked men in to submission. Men, some want to be ruled. This is going no where. I feel like it's easy to talk laterally, and think that way too, but no forward steps seem to be made.
12/29/88 Thursday - Maps. 9:00 - 5:30. 1/2 hr. lunch.
ReplyDelete10:38 p.m. Thursday, December 29, 1988
Writing time again. These periods get later each day. I have to sit down and do this first thing in the morning. Just wasting time with this intro chatter, b.s.
Thinking, thinking, thinking, I should try ding a little less. I think this is going to be two pages of moaning, I can feel it welling up inside. What does it is my ego. For some reason it feels left out during the day, a good thing really, but unfortunately it starts kicking in and over ruling the self-control mechanisms of the day. By the time I get home, the ego's successfully inflicted wounds upon itself caused by...none other than Gary, of course. The one person I claim to care about, is the one person my ego choses to point to as it's captor. Forcing me into drudgery of picking up an odd piece of garbage or putting away a bit of left over food even when I've cooked the evening meal. Or turning my nose and thinking negative thoughts just because someone's spray painted something in the basement. For Christ's sake who really cares about these injustices forced on moi. Injustice is too weighty a word to be used on the trifles that I feel are thrust on me. Come on man. It doesn't matter. So if you don't want to put the leftovers away don't do it. It's simple. Don't try to intellectualize all. That's got to be part of the edge. Each moment and then it's gone. Each moment and then it's gone. Don't you understand? You can never have an answer for something that's correct all the time. Nothing is that way. So to try and think of a certain way to be at a certain moment in time when certain objects are happening at a certain time, influenced by other certainties which were influenced by uncertainties is a bit silly. Something comes up, deal with it. The right answer, response, is all based on who you ask.
You do know that life is a great thing. Good and bad it's all there for me right now. So live it, don't worry if things don't seem to be going the way you expected. That'll keep you on your nose. Besides when things are always going for you, how do you learn? Grow? Some people, unlike me, don't need to be slapped in the face to realize, they can come up with ideas all on their own.
That's one thing I'm good at...following orders, not thinking for myself.
12/30/88 Friday - Maps. 9:00 - 4:30. 1/2 hr. lunch.
ReplyDeleteSaturday morning - The Last day of 1988.
I missed Friday's writing. So now I'm left to make it up with three pages for today and tomorrow. Shouldn't be hard because the next two days will be spent driving up to visit the land. (the 100 acre property on Tug Hill we'd purchased earlier in Decemer) I'm so excited! Gary and Greg (Seff) stopped by (the land) on their way back from George's (Seff - three brothers...George is the oldest, then Greg, then Gary. George was living in Rochester, NY at the time.) It had just snowed eight inches (in Rochester) I think. The road past the land was plowed all the way so they didn't get a chance to walk around and check things out. So now it's up to this expedition of two explorers, Gary and myself. The hardest part of the exploration is getting there. Driving for seven hours one way in an auto can drive me nuts. I get tired, oversensitive, thereby losing sense of humor, sense of self, sense of respect. Not a good thing. We'll see how this trip goes. The idea of nothing matters can be an aid. Although my use of it as yet, to those ends, is shaky at best. Still our getting caught up in bitterness, even when the situation is not in a bitter-tone. No reading. So I haven't figured out any methods of control when I get in these states. Ideas from Terry were to detach yourself from ego, or I, and watch. Easily said but hard for me to do. First of all, my ego is a strong controller. I have to break lose from it so I can just sit and listen. How to break lose? How can I step outside of ego when it's starting to pull me into a silly discussion? First thing I can practice is keeping my mouth shut until someone directly asks me a question. That's hard to do because my ego changes my hearing so that I don't listen because what I have to say is so important.
January 1, 1989
I've fallen further behind in writing. On our way back from Constableville. Fantastic day! Snow up to my knees on the land. We followed the State's land border on one side of the property. My feet were getting cold and wet so we went back to the road and skied back to the car. A beautiful day!
1/2/89 Monday - Water Samples T.M.H. 9:30 - 12:30.
ReplyDeleteJanuary 2, 1989
If I can keep writing in here every day, I'm hoping the back ground noise will clear out. Maybe this will help me tune out that noise. Time's going quick and I hate to waste it with negative emotions flooding through my mind about work and Gary. My tow main life devotions right now. As Gary put it, "there's really nothing to worry about, concerning the job. After all if you're not hired on a full-time basis then you'll be as you are now." Not a terrible state seeing as how I've been in this capacity for over six months. And if the part-time doesn't make it through the year, then cross that bridge then. You'll be better prepared then anyway. So that's some pretty good advice. I'm going to turn my down-trodden attitude for work into an energetic optimistic approach.
My second concern is how I'm getting along with Gary. Actually pretty good. It's just that when we spend more than the usual work day amount of time together I get kind of nutty. Too sensitive, taking everything to heart, and generally missing the mark when it comes to communicating. Already this is nothing. What bothers me the most is the way I can get caught up in feeling like I've paid more money. Or, I've done more work. Funny thing is that over time it equals out. I may do a lot for both of us while Gary does things for himself. But then later on Gary's doing work for both and I'm just doing things for myself. It does work out. Trust and respect are the key words for me to remember in this equation.
January 2, 1989 continued...
ReplyDeleteNow what to write? That does it for internal dialogues. Now I can get on with something a little more creative.
Chris and I took water samples in Three Mile Harbor this morning. Chris got here (we carpooled. He drove from Center Moriches to Southampton and then either he or I would drive both of us to Amagansett.) hair and beard all mashed around as if he had gotten out of bed and hoped into his car. I thought I was looking into a mirror when I jumped into his car this morning.
It was warm this morning but when we're driving around the harbor (in a boat), being on the water made it feel much colder. It was steel grey day. I'm glad we're near the water because seeing it makes the greyness easier to handle. The water was calm as a puddle in the road. Mirror everything above as if these were it's contents below. Water amazes me. It can be so calm and then it can be so stirred and violent; white caps and waves beating the beaches and marshes, breaking down the dead summer's growth, pulling the shoreline underneath. Equalizing, redistributing so all is equitable. Must be why communism is so adored. Something for all, nothing for all. But some must give while others must receive. The waves break down the marsh which grew due to the hard work of the marsh grasses. The marsh grasses, greenhouses in their own right, or better yet solar panels. Photovoltaic cells. Turning sun's energy into substance. Substance which in turn is combined with elements in the ground then beaten so that ends up redistributing elements and energy to others who couldn't have secured them if they stayed in the original state. Why? It doesn't matter. But why doesn't it matter? It just happens. And that's it. No reason. Absolutely none. Nature/God is. And that is all. How can this be understood? It can't. There are things that can't be understood, never can, never will. Like my relationship with Gary. No explanation at all. No formulas for behaving that will make all go smoothly. Things just go on. You live and someday you will die. Maybe tomorrow but probably not. But you never know. Each day could be the last. Treat it that way. Treat people that way. Life is that way. Each day, the people you know die and they wake up a new person the next day. Not new, as in, I feel as good as new, but new as in different. They may look the same, and they may have some of the same ideas, but they're not because they have one more day of living under their belt. They may even say that they are not different. But really they are because, if for nothing else, they have that one extra day added on. So this applies for you too. Me too. Realize it into my deep recesses. It is. So let this thought stay with you throughout the day. And don't ever forget it.
1/3/89 Tuesday - Maps. 9:00 - 4:30. 1/2 hr. lunch.
ReplyDeleteJanuary 3rd, 1989
Another day. John's back to work much to my relief. I thought for sure that, being bummed out and down as he was when he left for vacation that he wouldn't come back. It's good to have a person around who you feel a common bond. And probably the only reason I feel a common bond with John Aldred is because Bob Valenti (owner w/ Marie McHenry of Multi-Aquaculture in Amagansett, NY) told me that he was astounded with similar mannerisms and habits. I remember one day after eating lunch and tossing my apple core over top of the greenhouse skeleton bob remarked that John used to do the same ritual. Now you know it's funny how I picked up on that. And so at work I'm constantly trying to figure out if there is some common thread. As it turns out there are some remarkable, at least to me, similarities. John has a sister who's probably twenty years his senior. And I think another sister who's older and he's the youngest. He's a reticent type. Seemingly quiet and humble. He's recognized some key books I've been reading: "Zen Mind, Beginner Mind," "Living the Good Life." He's been through the farm stage. It's funny me imagining myself as humble when I get caught up with the egotistic games that go on around, or that I make go around.
John is an incredible man. I admire him from the standpoint that I hope someday I can be as honest and aware of my shortcomings and do as good a job as he does. I don't mean to idolize him. It's just nice to know that there are people out there have some ideas or goals in common. Sure it would be boring if everybody were alike. For me though, sometimes it's nice to know that there are others out there, just out there....
Ah well, onward we go into a new evening and in turn a new day. Time is passing quickly and I keep thinking about the new day, new world theory. These theories of mine are funny things. they come and go as quickly as the weather changes. I guess this really isn't a theory, it's more a pair of glasses used to see the world with less critical eyes. It does work, n this my first day of using them. Transferring symbols on to the final map went by without any twinges in my stomach. In fact I had a great laugh. I'm sure if I didn't take everything so serious I'd probably have a laugh like that every day.
January 3rd, 1989 continued...
ReplyDeletePlugging on. I just want to keep this pen scribbling. For some reason, through my memory a thought flashed. Good old Gippsland Grammar School days. Playing nuechem. I don't know how to spell it, but it's like volleyball except you catch the ball and then throw it back over the net. We were divided up into three teams for the entire time you went to school. Three colors: Bendigo, Red - I think or maybe it was Blue and Dargon - was it? I better check the old year books when I go back to Mom's. Anyway, once the Boys school got together with St. Annes they added a third color, green, but I can't remember the name they had for it. I think I was on blue and then green when they added that color. I'm not totally sure though. I remember playing football - Australian rules- and Cricket. And good old Mark Wilson, my best friend. The Wilson's are still in Sale, although spread out. You know I think I'd like to go to a foreign country and live there for some time. Why? Why not? I love America. But I'd also like to travel as an adult and live some where else. New accents, cultures. Culture shock. I remember Mom talk about her trip, with the family of course, on the freighter from New York to Talara, Peru. I tried to get her to remember what she thought when they got there. I think she said she was homesick until they met some friends. Made some friends I should say. The Barbieri's. Sometimes I think that a good trip would be to work on a farm or plantation in South or Central America. Just live like an average farming person. Dirt poor, probably. One idea of doing this was to go during the winters for, say, two months. There's got to be some kind of way I can go and stay with a family and work with them in exchange for food and shelter. Like a Peace Corps experience, but without the bueracracy. It could be a regular migration. Then I could bring native work from them back to the U.S. and sell it and then return the money back to the people, It seems like a simple idea, but, alas, I'm sure there are some major flaws in my reasoning and ideas.
I'll stop for today.
1/4/89 Wednesday - Maps. 9:00 - 5:00. 1/2 hr. lunch.
ReplyDeleteJanuary 4th, 1989
A cold has settled in on me. Just as I was leaving from work today I realized that my soul's warehouse has been attacked. Time to drink, and blow my nose, drink and blow my nose.
The snowstorm didn't materialize. I was a little downhearted. I tried to hold back my hopes for a big snow just so I wouldn't be disappointed. It never works for me though. It's not much fun being right about predicting no snow when the local weather people say storm. Instead of snow we got sun and cold weather. The wind got stronger as the day wore on. When I got home the windows were white with frost. I got into the house and it felt warmer inside than out, but when I took off my coat I figured I might as well put it back on and go stand outside for all the difference it made.
Work was a strange thing today. First thing I was talking to Joanne about good doctors to go to when you want to get checked for Lyme's. Cathy Lester (East Hampton Town councilwoman at that time) walked in, then came back out to the front office and said that Tony Bullock (East Hampton Town Supervisor at that time) gave the go ahead to hire me provisionally until I take the civil service test. That was good news, but then no one else said anything about it so I'm not really sure what's up. I guess the town board has to vote on it this Friday. A good thing, aye?
Not much going on in this willy nilly mind of mine. I feel like all my senses have dulled in an effort to mobilize the necessary force to counter the germs that have built up inside me. My mind is a vacuum sucking air.
I walked to the IGA to pick up some goodies. The sky was clear, Orion lay on his side, head cocked up, in the eastern sky. The wind blew hard at my back the whole way over. The backs of my legs were cold and the jeans felt like they were going to break into a thousand pieces, like a ceramic bowl dropped from a high counter top. It felt good walking over in the cold inter night. It felt bad walking back because part of the way I had to walk with my eyes closed. My bag broke before I even got across Windmill Lane. Not much to carry, but my little used (often abused) back complained all the way back. Probably a blessing in disguise because it took my thoughts away from the coldness of it all.
1/5/89 Thursday - Maps. 9:00 - 4:30. 1/2 hr. lunch.
ReplyDelete1/6/89 Friday - Maps. 9:00 - 4:30. 1/2 hr. lunch.
Undated
Try writing a new way.
I have a knot in the right side of my abdomen. It's there because I'm thinking about what a jerk I can be sometimes. Like today. Saying nothing is something I have to watch out for because I do it so well. I can't even summarize "Hoffman's Antelope" in a clear, concise way. It makes my stomach churn when I think of this. This writing is another example. Not much, substantially is written. My whole feeling from today is jerky, irky, quirky. Lacking smoothness and even flow.
Ah to have grace, charisma, insight, directness when speaking, thinking and writing. I could imagine I do. What would it hurt? At least here on these pages. I am smooth and charismatic. When I speak, I speak with thoughtfulness exuding each sentence. Directness is at the heart of my speaking. I don't hesitate when words must be said yet I'm never speaking when words are not necessary.
Picture myself doing these things and soon they will be a natural part of my person.
Don't plan on saying a certain thought a certain way. Let the moment determine the attitude, inflection and use. In everyday goings on I'm still pushing to control even if I decry my indifference.
Independence is always trying to worm it's way in. Even into jobs that require sameness...like map making.
Map making. Work that probably, most definitely will be seen by few. If a negative view is chosen. Provides a cataloging of information that has here-to-fore been uncollated. A mammoth and albeit, seemingly worthless/pointless task. But nevertheless has a value in seeing the broad picture.
January 7th, 1989
ReplyDeleteThe weekend. Ah. It snowed yesterday. Now today the sky is grey with clouds and the ground is white with snow.
The Town Board approved the resolution to hire me off the Civil Service List until the test for Bay Management Specialist is offered. At which time I must take the test and pass it. Funny workings. What will I do? Time has the answer to that. I just don't want to be jerked around.
When I wake up in the morning, the first thoughts filtering through the synapse are about work. I don't like that. That's a signal to me that I must change things. Meditation is going to have to be one part of the pronged approach. Approaching Larry (Penny) is going to be another.
But until I do it, I can't and will not keep going over what I'll say to Larry when I do approach him. End of these thoughts.
I think about the land. It is beautiful. An oasis to escape to and see things that are really important in life. It is. It exists. It is tangible. To think I own it is absurd. How can one person, or two, claim dominion over land? But in this society where one must "own." I do so only for appearances sake.
Man is a funny beast. No different than any other beast. Although he is sure that he is different from the rest. A true biologist is one who realizes upon studying the myriad of plants, animals, molds, protists, that we are not all that different. Even scientists who study physical parameters must realize that we are linked back to the earth. We are the earth. There really is no separation.
Even men themselves are not so different.
The house is cold in the mornings. I wrestle with the idea of getting out of bed. Finally I go because my quickly mounting thoughts and past anxieties resurface and push me out. I can not lay in bed thoughtless.
I am thinking of ways I've been wronged in the past at work, at home. Soar over and see that beyond the future and beyond yesterday lie this moment right here. You breathe in, moment, you breathe out, another moment. Seconds fly by, hours are wished away. All lost to thoughts of past or thoughts of future. Concentrate on this moment right here. First by myself then add people. Sometimes by myself is harder, sometimes with people is harder. Be in no rush for a future moment. They will come in their time as they are ready. To rush them is to be unnatural.
Each symbol placed on a map is the first and the last symbol that you will ever place on that map at that moment. Each word you utter will be the first and last word you utter at that moment in time.
Deer do not hastily, willy-nilly wander through a forest. They take one step in each moment.
January 8th, 1989
ReplyDeleteThe snow is almost gone. Now fog stands around all. Paying games with itself as it wraps around trees, houses, ocean.
It's wet to walk in. My hair feels wet when I touch it.
There's a wind with this fog. Blowing it along. But no clearing comes from where the fog was. Just more fog.
My thoughts are intermittently disrupted by thought of work, but briefly. Most of the time I look at the different trees lining the roadway. The mosses and lichens growing on their trunks. The bark has a grayish green, felty look. The wet colors stand out. The greens on the bark. The pebbles in the sand by the ocean. With a fog all is bright and deeply colored. With the sun colors are faded. The bark is not as colorful, the stones dry off and are a dull color.
On the quarter laying here on my desk, a sequined heart is glued. It is behind the President's pony tail. I think the man on the quarter is Washington. On the penny is Lincoln. On the nickel is Jefferson, on the dime is Eisenhower and on the quarter is Washington. The dictionary will tell me if I'm right.
I ran down to and along the beach yesterday evening. My thoughts were being trained to think about breathing. It's calming. You can think about whatever you want to think about. No one is forcing you to think about anything in particular.
I wonder where I got the idea that I had to be thinking certain thoughts. Maybe it's part of being a chameleon. When You are with people you become sensitive to their thoughts as well as to their words and mannerisms.
A person gets upset or angry with you. You think they have that right. They do, I suppose, if they employ you. But then again you have the right not to be yelled at. Even if you do something wrong. I think I'm on to something here.
Growing up, I was yelled at. For whatever reason, be it because I id something wrong or because I was at the right place at the wrong time ie. displaced aggression. So I assumed that people have a right to yell at other people when they get mad - venting anger. Anger is a funny thing though. It's like a virus. You get it and then you give it to someone else. Then someone else has it and they give it to some other person.
Then again. Here is another side which says that you don't want to be yelled at. That's equally justified. And you shouldn't have to be yelled at. I don't think there's really any one right answer. People have a right to yell. And people have a right not to be yelled at. Combine the fact that, or introduce say, the fact that I'm over sensitive to yelling and you find why this is one of those issues that I have chosen to make matter, out of all the things that don't matter. Another approach is to use being yelled at as a way for me to practice self-control. For example, not thinking about it so much after it happens, since it's already too late then. Another justifiable approach, worthwhile too since, like it or not, throughout life you are going to have situations where you are going to be yelled at. So the sooner you can learn to deal with them without having them affect you so dramatically, the sooner your evolutionary process will move along, and the quicker you can move away from cause and effect/affect living. All ultimately giving you more control over yourself which is what you're striving for. Adieu.
1/9/89 Monday - Meeting in Morning. 2 wetlands w/ Jim. Met Larry and Chris @ Stepping Stones Pond at 2:00. Checked test hole. Flagged wetlands @ Andy Warhol's, looked at bluffs and flagged some at Paul Simon's. 9:00 - 4:30. 1 hr. lunch.
ReplyDeleteJanuary 9th, 1989
Monday
Up, run, eat, work, home, write, go to bed. It goes so quickly. Today I was out with Jim flagging wetlands after the new weekly Monday morning meeting. Larry squirmed out of telling us who got the jobs. Oh well. More thoughts on this moment as the only moment. It's a good idea. Get's me through a lot of complaining from the ego. Then again I've only been working on this for two days. Conviction has to keep me on top. It slips away quickly though. Then well up again later. Thinking about each moment will help this phenomenon too. Plus build conviction. Each day, each hour, each minute, each second. Every breathe counts. Because without it you won't get to the next. Breathe deeply inhaling, exhale deeply. Live life like this.
What words would come out of this pen if I didn't try controlling and editing.
Nonsense. Scribble. Dribble. A break to mess with a zit perched on the skin to the right of my nose. I've had great control in restraining my hands from wandering to my face and squeezing the living puss out of that ungrateful little blemish. Then finally I broke down. Tired of watching the little red patch grow outward on the surface of my face trying to reach a common goal; clean, well-aired area. Away from the pushing, shoving demands of neighboring skin cells and pores. All/each trying to hog the precious Vitamin D coming from the sun and all trying to hide behind the other in escaping the ultraviolet death rays trying to penetrate into their inner most being: their genetic material. Altering it irreparably. Forcing them to become aberrant. A freak of nature in the skin cell world. Obvious when seen by the planet they inhabit. All is fine with them, however. Until they are frozen out by a deep probe from another planet. Made up of people/cells just like themselves.
This writing is trite. Uninteresting and totally boring. Why I waste time sitting at this desk putting words on this paper is a mystery. No it's not really. Maybe I have a dream that if I keep doing this every night, I'll become a good writer. Better yet, the great writer in me will appear. And with this talent I'll be able to go into the world and record the happenings and goings on of every day life. People will want to read my words because they, the words, will give them new vision. They'll not be afraid of wanting to know what is inside them. And, I'll be able to go live in Constableville in a little house with no electricity and hand-pumped water. Growing the food I need to live on: fruits, vegetables and nuts. I'll be able to cut firewood from the windfall. This wood I'll chop, and dry and use to heat the house in the winter. I'll spend time tending the garden for part of the day in the summer, part of the day observing, reading and writing and part of the day doing community/volunteer work. Helping paint the school in the summer when they kids are out playing. Raking leaves in the Autumn. Shovelling snow in the winter. And once in a while I'll be paid a little money from some of my observations of living in Constableville. And maybe I'll be able to travel to South America, and Central America. Work on a farm with a small scale farmer. Learn what is important to a farmer in another world. And come back to Constableville.
And Gary and I will be friends for a lifetime. Sharing our small house with our families and friends. But before all of that. I write for now. Writing makes me feel good. Even if it is bad, even if it is boring. It's mine. I did it. I thought to do it today. So it's worth me reading it.
1/10/89 Tuesday - Morning searching for Milne information. Flagging in Ditch Plains in afternoon. 8:30 - 4:30. 1 hr. lunch.
ReplyDelete1/11/89 Wednesday - Good day of flagging wetlands in Montauk w/ Jim. Ditch plains and south of Montauk Downs. 9:00 - 4:30. 1 hr. lunch.
Wednesday Morning the Eleventh of January
Missed yesterday because I felt like it. I felt like it because I had nothing to say. But then I usualy don't have much to say when I sit down to write in here. I didn't run htis morning either That also brought about by hibernating quality of my personality today. No big deal though.
I stop to blow my nose.
I still don't understand a whole hell of a lot these days. I start thinking that I do and then realize that not much makes any sense.
I want to be in control of the things I do, but other factors come in to play so I get to the point where I say nothing matters. A simple example: the sweater I like. Borrowed from me last winter, used until the quarter-sized holes undere the armpits turned into old silver dollar sized holes. I rescued it because I liked it and was able to hold on to it for the rest of the year up until the cold weather. Now it's being used again. The thought goes through my mind, "I'm pretty selfish if I can't give out the sweater." I don't understand. I have other sweaters. What's the big deal? Nothing, really. I should just part with it. But I feel like things are taken from me. The shirt that Diane and Bb gave me, the Navy sweatshirt - l loaned that. But the point is, they're asked for. Granted I have geen given some nice t-shirts that I wear a lot. Is this just another bitch session? Am I a spoiled brat who can't part with any of his things? Just write off the fucking thing. It doesn't matter. It's only a fucking sweater. Just a material possession. So why am I twinged with anger everytime I'm asked to loan it? I think it's because I'm forced into doing something by being accused that I'm a tightwad, cheap, spoiled. Since I don't like being called those things, I go ahead and let them go. It's like petty blackmail. I don't get it - why I bother thinking about it.
January 11th, 1989
ReplyDeleteLater the same day, same person. Feeling better aftr a day in the great outdoors flagging wetlands with Jim. Have decided to relinquish all rights to the sweater in an amiable way. Find myself a new favorite sweater. Work is an interesting occurrence. Games being played. I asked Larry about who was hired. Stalled again - the "17th of this month there'll be an announcement," he says. I hope "The Star" (East Hampton weekly, family-owned newspaper) has the announcement in it tomorrow. I guess what Jhn had said last Friday was right. Sue and I'll get hired as town employees adn Chris will be exclusive work on the aquaculture project. No big deal. Why does it have to be hidden. Can't Larry just be up front and open about his plan. He's afraid Chris will leave if he doesn't get a Town position. Granted. And it may work out that way. But how does holding back make any difference? To me this seems to keep us confused about...No loyalty to our illustrious leader if his way is to play manipulation games. But once again, the shit don't matter. So what if Larry's manipulating, gaming? You just want to moan about something so you're picking this issue since in others' eyes it could be an area of injustice and you would have people on your side. But the truth is: I don't have a desire to be a lifelong aquaculturist. It would be nice working in the field while I'm here in this setting, but then I enjoy learning about the different species of plants around wetlands. And far ranging goals would seem to shoot fr me to learn plant species since I want to head up to Constableville. So really it doesn't matter as far as the content of my work goes. It does matter though because this is an example of Larry's game strategy. For this reason alone I should make my thoughts known. We'll see if I have the desire to tange with this.
This writing isn't so therapeutic anymore. It's the same bullshit day after day. Doesn't really change. My thinking isn't very creative. My long face hair makes me look stupid. I'm not adept at handling relationships in a mature, detached way. Generally I'm a shitty person, immature, selfish and on top of it all I smell. The end. P.S. Don't forget about the red spot beside your nose. Makes me look like some skin cancer candidate!
1/12/89 Thursday - Flagging w/ Jim. Hog Creek, Gerard Drive. 9:00 - 4:30. 1 hr. lunch.
ReplyDelete1/13/89 Friday 9:00 - 4:00. 1 hr. lunch.
January 14th, 1989
I'm getting sloppy. Missed writing for Thursday and Friday. Not a lot going on. Although that's a pretty lame excuse. The days have ben sunny, cloudy, sunny, cloudy. Off and on. I've been flagging w/ Jim. Thursday in the rain. Friday in the clouds and sun. We ate lunch at the inlet to Lake Montauk. The sky was clearing as we ate lunch. Jim was telling me about the crazy parties at Jeff and Wendle's house (Jim also graduated from Southampton College a year or two before me.) where group showers were a common occurrence and where women were passed around like joints. The sex-starved dirls who couldn't get enough. Lip lcking any young dude who wasn't lip locked already. Those same girls that I thought were so nice. Girls I wouldn't mind going out with. It might've been interesting. But then aren't all of us sex starved? Naa, not everyone.
This sounds stupid. Words. But theres no real structrue. No feeling. Detatched as if written from a corpse. What's the deal here? I am AFRAID! What of? Making a mistake, saying something stupid. Pontificating without a permit. I have all permits. I can write whatever I please. My journal. My control. A story.
The bakery shop smells draw me up the four concrete steps. I open the outer door and push forward the inner screen door. The bell jingles and fresh bread fills my nostrils. The bakery is warm. The walls are a wood finish. And the light is soft not glaring. The big display case shows ff it's inricately designed cakes and cookies. At counter level, croissonts, baguets, crumb cakes, scones and muffins press against the glass. Their still warm centers radiating mositure on to the glass.
I wait my turn carefully perusing th dough figures on the counter, the rolls and bread on the wall behind the counter. It's a hard decision in part by the endless choice and in whole by the girl/blossoming woman behind the counter.
All three of the women behind the counter ae attractive, each in her own way. The girl that forestalls my pastry decision is thin and has snow white teeth. Her hair is long and rich chocolate brown. Her eyes are soft and I feel like warm butter when she asks me my decision. She is calm, self-assured, patient. Her hands are soft and her cheeks are rosy. Unmade up she is in essence, form. Graceful and poised. She is practicing after work. She is an artist or a ballerina. Or, better yet, she is the girl that works at the bakery. Enlightened, giving people hope for the day in her warm smile as she hands them their regular coffee and buttered roll over the counter.
She accepts my offer for a walk after work. I happy and b. (the writing ends here. I didn't ask her to take a walk after work...just sounded good, like the whole scene...)
January 15th, 1989
ReplyDeleteDinner on Friday night with Rich's friends Kurt and Jerri and their kinder: Kasaldra and Eric.
Jerri and Kasaldra enter the house first. Jerri looks Spanish/talian, brown undertones in her skin. Thick, dark, and long hair. Her red and black sweater fill he earth-toned living room with an electricity. The kids playing and running from Karen (Rich's girlfriend) to Mom to Dad to me to Rich add energy to this scene. Fish frying in the kitchen smokes it's way into the living room, squelching the fresh air under its merciless power.
Eric is thirteen months, Kasaldra three years. I haven't been around kids this size for qite a while. They are uninhibited. They smile just because you look at them and smile. Their two front little teeth stick out when the corners of their mouth curve up. They laugh, hide their heads behind their mother and father. Kasaldra talks. She tells Karen about the TV shows she watches. Unicorns and monsters. She mixes her self in with the imaginary characters.
Eric sits on my lap and pints to my cup of sherbet. I put a little on the spoon and he opens his mouth. A bird waiting for it's Momma to feed it. He makes some smaking noises, the spoon comes out of his mouth minus the little blob of sherfet. A smile lights his face and his fingers point to the cup.
Jerri has a half of a joint. She offers to all. I accept. I like the closeness you have with a person when you share a joint. Plus it's a new role for me. Usually I turn down pot-smoking offers. I thought "Why not?" This time I didn't put it out with my drag. It has a sweet and harsh taste. It's hot to handle. The smell of marijuana stayed in my beard. I could smell it the next morning. I was reminded of a closeness shared the evening before. It was almost too intimate. I felt a little uncofortable after we shared the smoke as if Jerri and I were cheating on Kurt. He didn't seem to mind. Although people, grownups, some, are masters of hiding their inner feelings. If I were Kurt, I'd feel a bit funny. I guess that's why I'm not ready to get married yet. There must be a trust in a relationship.
Jerri and Kurt seemed like complete compliments. While Kurt exuded a strong sense of self, willfulness and inward control. Jerri emanated rose qualities. Attractive, colorful, and emmotional. She more a pleasue seeker. Living to eat. Living to live. Kurt, eating to live. Underlying links I have to Kurt, a vegetarian, quiet person. Common ties are with Jerri too. Strong desire, and a certain impetuousness.
Fisheran's Forum yesterday. John stopped by and we drove to Riverhead in my car. The few talks I heard gave me ideas about the land. A fish farm with a filtrations system of edible plants. Just a few, two tanks of catfish in a greenhouse. I'm not sure if it's too feasible without electricity to drive pumps. Maybe solar power.
I think about living on the land. How will I make a living by chopping wood and growing all or most of the food? Maybe I'll have to work somewhere else for a month or so a year. So two months of working for someone else won't be all that bad. Maybe at an environmental camp. Or on a dragger. The imagination is the only limit. Others try to hold you down by saying that you must do such and such. You should get a part time job a few days a week. I could work at the local ski hiss as a lift attendant. Or better still I could write. Others will laugh you say. Ha! That's the cynical lazy side of you talking. Maybe even drawing. Too outrageous a thought - We will see.
January 16th, 1989
ReplyDeleteRed sky in he east this morning. Sailor's warning. I'll remember. I worked with Mike and Gary yesterday. An old boat house, turned into vacation home, being resored.I had the pleasureable, steam releasing duty of ripping shingles off the second story walls. Demolition, that's my bag!
It was a good day all in all. Until I ran out of gas on the way home. Typical for me since I have an idiot light (1988 Chevy Nova, red, given to me by Daine and Bob after Bob's Mom, Elaine was diagnosed with Alzheimer's) on the dash that goes on once the fuel level hits one quarter; for the car it's usual state. In my mind I've turned out that light.
Ever notice how some grapefruit have 14 sections and others have 13?
At last into the recesses of my room. Physically isolated. From the only other person in the house: Gary. I feel crazed. It shows. There's a saying about thinking of the worst which then causes it. I look at the gulls on windy days. They ride the wind as it shoots up and over black rock jetties. Sometimes they are lifted, as if thrown, up into the air by a subtle change of a few feathers' inclination. I wonder if you walk along the jetties where the gulls play do you find any who moved the wing the wrong way with the increased wind? Or does there ever occur a sudden down draft to the demise of a daring young aerialist? There's a saying, "I think; theefore I am." That's not quite what I had in mind. Although this is a good one because it foreshadows neither happiness or gloom. One in the same. If money's a finite resource, and when one has, others have not. Is it true then that jor and happiness are finite too? And that if one is happy somewhere there is another who is sad? If I were to live on a constant continuum, would I be spared the sadness and despair?
I enjoy my life. Sometimes I get mired down in the mud of one glitch and I start bringing my whole car load of emotions in to the scene to help figure our a way out. These emotions only make my wheels sink deeper. There's no need for thought or help, just get out of the mud. Find a hose and wash off.
Now a new story. I'm going to make a move in this wonderful chess game called life.
1/17/89 Tuesday - Lake Montauk H20 samples with Kevin Maeir. Delivered to Stony Brook. Used white, EHT car. 8:45 - 3:45. 3/4 hr. lunch.
ReplyDelete1/18/89 Wednesday - Flagged wetlands. East Lake Drive, Napeague. 9:00 - 5:00. 3/4 hr. lunch.
January 18th, 1989
I yawn, my belly is full. I'm warm, and swivelling, sexy jazz is coming from my desk top radio. A spring-like day has passed before me today.Clear sky, warm air and no wind. Jim and I flad wetlands in Montauk. The day rolls by caually; I learn from Jim that he as met Mansonobu Fukoka (no-till rice grower who wrote "One Straw Revolution.") The lucky stiff.
NOUNS:
Eggplant, proboscis, antelope, pygmy, orange, toilet bowl, garden, anchor airplane
VERBS:
Hoe, plant, cultivate, fertilize, mulch, spread, edge, clip, water.
The eggplats are watered by God's early morning showers.
The fly's searching proboscis tapped it's way along the honey trail to the source: the hive.
Spread some of that antelope jam on your skin. It keeps the flies away.
Pygmies are cultivated by attending the symphony.
Oranges edged into the garden lawn. Her garden of carefully clipped emotion was suddenly invaded.
Mulching years of vegetables makes me realize that life goes down the toilet bowl.
The plant was anchored in place with a fence until the storm came and planted an anchor of willow in the fence.
The fertilizing thoughts of airplane attendants made me afraid there was a chance we would crash.
Not too much goning on.
1/19/89 Thursday - Sue Jim, Craig flag wetlands. 9:00 - 4:00. 1 hr. lunch.
ReplyDelete1/20/89 Friday - 9:00 - 4:30. 1 hr. lunch.
1/23/89 Monday - Jim, Craig flag wetlands. 9:00 - 4:00. 1 hr. lunch.
1/24/89 Tuesday - Sue, Jim, Craig flag wetlands. Oyster Shores, Northwest - Settlement at.
1/25/89 Wednesday - 4 Test borings with Jim. Met Mark and Peter Joyce. 9:00 - 4:00. 1 hr. lunch.
January 25th, 1989
I've slacked off the writing craze. No complaining to do, so no writing. Gary and I walked over to the library. The pavement was cold. I could feel it's cld and hard thorugh my wool socks and leather shoes. The sky was half-filled with stars. The wind from the east bit through my sweatshirt, and swater and found it's home in my marrow.
Now I sit at the table after a fresh evening walk, hand wrapped around the hot mug of ovaltine. I wait for stillness to find it's way into my movements and thoughts. All day I go: from the time I get up with a morning run till I come home and start into preparations for dinner. The moving center is on overdrive.
This ovaltine helps. It slips down my throat and loosens the stings that keep my shuttters wide open.
The internal editor, I, has been hard at work in keeping me from these pages. I listen and he thinks he's serious and he is because I don't write anything. That's all right though, because sometimes I need to break from my habits.
The day went quick. Jim and I watched Mark make test borings at four different lots in Montauk. Mark impressed me. He works for himself. He is knowledgeable and professional. Seemingly easy to get along with but not effusive. He's a good example for me.
I'm worried witht he way I listen to Jim. I like Jim. Jim talks a lot sometimes, and sometimes I tune him out. That's not such a good thing to do. I wonder if what I do is obvious. I'll pay attention.
The kitchen faucet isn't turned off all the way. A drop every second or two comes out of the faucet, drops through the air and splashes on the white sink beneath. It's a good sink. When Rich is here and is ambitious it's clean and white. But while Rich is away and Gary and I are maintaining the house the sink is free to express itself in any color of the rainbow that it chooses to don. I like the gas stove with it's white enamel outside, narrow oven on the right side and storage space on the left. Inside it's enameled in blue with white spots. The oven door doesn't close all the way so to get a good temperature you have to prop the broom in the crack between oven and storage. You lay the other end, the corner where the kitchen cabinets meet the floor.
Sometimes if you don't shut the oven door with the broom, the heat escapes and makes the knobs that control the top burners hot. Sometimes I wonder if they'll melt. So far they haven't.
"The Moon and Sixpence" W. Somerset Maugham
ReplyDelete"I take it that conscience is the guardian in the individual of the rules which the community has evolved for its own preservation. It is the policeman in all our hearts, set there to watch that we do not break its laws. It is the spy seated in the central stronghold of the ego. Man's desire for the approval of his fellows is so strong, his dread of their censure so violent, that he himself has brought his enemy within his gates; and it keeps watch over him, vigilant always in the interests of its master to crush any half-formed desire to break away from the herd. It will force him to place the good of society before his own. It is the very stong lint which attatches the individual tothe whole. And man, subservient to interests he has persuaded himself are greater than his own, makes himself a slave to his taskmaster. He sits him in the seat of honor. At last, like a courtier fawning on the royal stick that is laid about his shoulders, he prides himself on the sensitiveness of his conscience. Then he has no words hard enough for the man who does not recognize its sway; for, a member of society now, he realizes accurately that against him he is powerless."
1/26/89 Thursday - Checked lots in Montauk w/ Jim. Worked w/ Jim and John in afternoon at Hatchery. 9:00 - 4:30. 1 hr. lunch.
ReplyDelete1/27/89 Friday - Flagged trees on 3 lots in the Bell Estate. Flagged lot on Gerard Dr. Checked lot on Three Mile Hbr. Dr. I had flagged already. Returned to office to do paperwork. 9:00 - 4:30. 1 hr. lunch.
1/30/89 Monday - Staff meeting. Jim and I checked asphalt going into pond in Wainscott. Montauk to help at Hatchery in p.m. 9:00 - 4:00. 1 hr. lunch.
1/31/89 Tuesday - H2O samples w/ Jim Finch Accabonac and Hog Creek. 8:00 - 12:00. 1 hr. lunch. Meeting w/ Larry, Sue and Chris to discuss Shellfish Management Study and progress of Shoreline Survey.
2/1/89 Wednesday - Checked bucket and crane test hole off of Fairview. Began flagging Warhol"s...ran into crazy man w/ big teeth-bearing dog. Jim decided to get in touch w/ attorney. Checked test hole. Jim dropped me off at Hatchery on his way back to the office. Pulled lights and fixtures out of trashed trailer there. Took John to drop work truck off to be fixed. 9:00 - 5:00. 1 hr. lunch.
2/2/89 Thursday - Jim and I checked Shulman's lot in Northwest. Jim took pictures of charred remains. Drove to Michael's Restaurant to flag nearby wetland. Out to Montauk. Looked at Gossman's. Had a good walk along property trying to get idea of slope. Came back to office to organize and tabulate fecal coliform data for Chris. 9:00 - 4:00. 1 hr. lunch.
2/3/89 Friday - Rainy day: checked retrofit of septic system: Lyke Apartments Montauk. They pulled rings. Drove to Star Island to check rumors of bulkhead work at the Yacht Club. Saw nothing. Got approx. slip numbers for Inlet and Deep Water Seafood. Back to office after checking "wetland" near Nivola which Larry thinks must be flagged. Back to Montauk to give dump permit for 4 cubic yards of bad sand. Crane was being used to poke hole through water and clay to sand. Found sand at about 20.' Back to office after posting stop work order on Bluff Rd. near Ocean Colony. 9:00 - 4:00. 1 hr. lunch.
2/6/89 Monday - Dropped off [my] letter to the editor ("The East Hampton Star"). Organizing fecal coliform data. 9:00 - 4:00. 1 hr. lunch. Shellfish Advisory Committee Meeting - Stony Brook. 7:30 - 9:00 p.m.
2/7/89 Tuesday - Organizing fecal coliform data w/ Chris. Larry needed T.M.H. well data and nearby surface water stations. Chris showed me how to put data into computer and on to floppy disc. 9:00 - 4:30. 1 hr. lunch.
2/8/89 Wednesday - Met John and Chris to unload lumber at Hatchery. Moved pots (crab and eel), etc to make space for Algae room. Flagging w/ Jim in afternoon then back to hatchery to help finish algae room. 8:30 - 4:30.1 hr. lunch.
ReplyDeleteFebruary 8th, 1989
Written perpendicularly to the pages on left margin, undated:
I've completed my homework for the week end. I've read many pages of my book. Caught up, I'm restless. I have bounding energies. Writing. The outlet. Taxes are coming down on all. Except, possibly, the rich.
Written under the date from left to right as usual...
Working out in Montauk. We moved a load of lumber from Riverhead Lumber. After we moved piles of old scientific equipment, pipes, and sampling gear (ours) to locations where they wouldn't have to be moved for a short while. The best place would've been the dump, but we didn't have enough of a truck.
The gross structures of the office, lab, foyer and algae room are in place. Finer framework has yet to be done.
I'm not much of a carpenter, but I'm still having a great time. The bay constables, Jeff and Kevin, plus Chris (Pranis), Anton (builder friend of John's from Sag Harbor), and John are easy guys to work with. It's not as fast paced as a private job (working w/ Fountainhead Construction) but it's still good for learning how to drive a nail in to wood. Not so good for my fingers though. My left index finger has suffered for my lack of control with the trusty hammer.
The days are moving by. This morning was cold, but beautiful colors in the sky. I've got to dress warmer, at least my groin, when I run on these cold days. Half way through the trip (run) I have the sensation that my penis is about to be frozen off. Too many days of this behavior and I'll have to go back to find the head. Not a good sight.
Congress just voted down a pay raise for themselves. I was adamant about their 51% increase being fiscally irresponsible, especially after Gary got my psyched up. But after talking to people, John, who thought it wasn't such a bad thing and also from hearing another side of the issue, I'm not so ecstatic anymore. You know there's always two sides to an issue. No matter what it is.
2/9/89 Thursday - Organized fecal coliform data for Hog Creek on disc. Organized TMH remaining stations. 9:00 - 4:00. 1 hr. lunch.
ReplyDelete2/10/89 Friday - Flagged 2 lots in Montauk w/ Jim. Organized clam information into 3 files for John. Paperwork for lots in Montauk. 9:00 - 4:00. After work, Communication Action Team Meeting w/ Tom and Deb.
February 10, 1989
Friday morning. Cold. Grey in the sky. Pay day, and tomorrow a trip home to Mom.
Jazzy, sazzly music is coming from the speakers - "The Sound Alternative." A soothing, smooth voice tells me of clearing skies today and warmth tomorrow. Arthur Goldberg (my Organic Chemistry professor while I was a student at Southampton College), on the air to advertise an informational meting for a trip to Australia. Australia. Barrier Reef, Kakadu National Forest, Northern Territory and time spent with an aboriginal tribe. What an excellent trip. Flute music fills through the speakers after Artie's "Thank you."
Does Artie have as much disdain for other of his contemporaries and colleagues as Larry (Penny?) has for Larry (Liddle?)and vice versa?
Now the flute has given way to guitar. Good music to spend the morning soothing to. Tropical thoughts flutter through my mind. Thoughts of the Bahamas, the South Pacific, especially after talking to Larry (Liddle) last evening. Warm breezes, beautiful deep blue waters. All quickly taken for granted after a few months of paradise. How quickly I fall asleep. No matter how beautiful, and changing each year, season, month, week, day, hour, minute, and second.
Sunday (2/12/89) - Day before Grandma's Birthday (Born February 13, 1898)
ReplyDeleteAn interesting thought came in to my head, so I ran quickly to my room to get you, the book, and record what may never happen again in my life. Mom and I were talking to Terry on the phone. I said something about learning about other people at work. Terry asked if I learned anything about myself. I said, "Oh yes, it's like a two-for-one sale." But my noteworthy thought is: perhaps I don't or haven't learned anything new about myself. In fact I've gotten in to the mode where I think that I've figured myself out and the only one or ones that have problems are the other guys. I mean really! How could a person learn something new about himself every day? I would think it natural. Maybe not something new everyday, but a realization of self.
I should write Terry and tell him I lied. I will. On my here yesterday I was thinking of my comments to Larry Penny on my writing a letter to the editor (thanking the Baymen for helping with the Shellfish Inventory Grant). It's funny that I didn't say anything to him when first he mentioned "the issue." What got me the most was when I mentioned it to Gary and he said I was spineless for not coming back at him with a retort. Now I've figured a little two or three sentence thought that's sure to let him know I've been thinking about what he said, Larry that is. Something like: "You know, Larry, I've been thinking about what you said to me on Friday about my editorial (letter to the editor) and I'm confused and a bit concerned. With all due respect I don't understand when we live in a country where free speech is a right of every person how you feel free to censor me but after thinking about what's going on with the baymen I can see why you're worried abut this all coming back into your face."
We'll see if I have the where-with-all to say this.
2/14/89 Tuesday - Map of non-point source pollution #2 w/ Chris. Bull Path landfill to look at old telephone poles to be used as pilings for dock @ lab (hatchery). Lab to work on sheathing wet side of wall next to Tony's (Dr. d'Agostion operated a blue lobster breeding project in the eastern third of the building...he helped facilitate the Town's use of the one remaining building of the former Ocean Science Lab for the Town Shellfish Hatchery. Dr. D' Agostino was an investigator and important force behind creating the Ocean Science Lab in what was originally a WWII Torpedo Testing Base on Fort Pond Bay.)
ReplyDelete2/15/89 Wednesday
2/16/89 Thursday - Wetlands in Montauk
2/17/89 Friday - Wetlands w/ Jim, Georgica Pond, Wainscott, Hog Creek, Accabonac
20 Feb 1989
I've got to start writing back to friends. I'm pretty disorganized right now. The clutter on the desk is building up. Unanswered letters are the key in this overcrowded, dusty scene. Not to mention, although now I am, two dead plants: one oregano, the other sage. I don't know if it's the dust or lack of water that did 'em in. Probably both.
I spent Saturday afternoon, Sunday and half of today with Diane, Bob, Karen and Tom in Manhattan. Two musicals: "Anything Goes" and "Fantasticks." I'd say I enjoyed "Fantasticks" the most because it was so simple and intimate.
One more thing, the String, taken from plain view and thrown into hiding. I'm debating whether to toss my load of letters or save them in some sort of chronological order as a letter-written journal. It's a good idea, but so far I haven't done anything so they're all just sitting around.
It was good to see family. Even so the weekend before this (Grandma's birthday). I should live closer to family, I think.
2/21/89 Tuesday - H2O samples - Napeague and Norhtwest taken from shore. + 3 samples taken in Sag Harbor. 9:00 - 3:00. No lunch.
ReplyDelete2/22/89 Wednesday - Delivered samples to D.E.C. (Lisa Tettlebach(?) recommended taking a sample near the sewage treatment plant. Back to Bluff Rd. by 11:30 after stopping at Larry's (he working from his home). Put fecal data into computer. 9:00 - 4:00. Short lunch (15 min.)
2/23/89 Thursday - Looked @ 3 lots in Napeague. One contained no wetlands. Checked violation on Mulford Ln. Talk to Dave and Mulvord Ln. Mayor about water and placements of septic. Measured distance from nearest cesspool to southern neighbor's well near will. Took 3 pictures.
2/24/89 Friday - Flagging w/ Mike B.(Bottini who worked for Group For the South Fork) and Jim Gosmans. 10:00 - 11:00. 1 hr. lunch. Paperwork in office in afternoon - 4.
2/27/89 Monday -
2/28/89 Tuesday - Worked on computer logging in fecal coliform data. Lunch 1 hr. Went to Town Hall w/ Larry and Jim for 2 court hearings. Posponement on Bistrian, Larry's (?). Drove to look for blkh (bulkhead) work reported at homeowner's slips T.M.H. Found nothing. Stopped by alley near Buzz Chew to look at oil spill. Saw Red Tailed Hawk in field near town hall. 9:00 - 4:00.
28 Feb. 1989
The last day in February. After a walk around the block in the cold air, my stomach is still filled with spaghetti noodles.
I've gotten rid of the dead plants, organized a little, but still haven't written many letters. Now the warmth of the house is threading it's way into my blood. My eyes are heavy. Sleep is a good suggestion.
The winter is getting long. Even though snow has changed the pace people are ready for warm weather. Me too. Every day constants rub me the wrong way. It's a special effort to keep my mouth shut. But if I remember it's a good change. I should look at the common, dreary attitudes with a sparkle in my eye. Sparkle because overcoming my labeling other actions as routine and dreary is the newness that I need. And with this new attitude my picture of everyone and the all will grow with the plants of the coming spring.
I daydreamed about the bakery girl as I walked around the block. I asked her for a date. Tomorrow morning, I dreamed, I'll go for a walk, stop by the bakery and ask her if she'll go to lunch and a walk on the beach with me on Saturday.
3/1/89 Wednesday - Fecal coliform. Rode w/ Jim to talk to Kyme about sighting of test wells on Rattinay lot, Soak Hides. Drove to Montauk to check septic retrofit. No work being done. Postponed till Thursday morning. 9:00 - 4:00.
ReplyDelete3/2/89 Thursday - Checked installation of Soak Hides test holes in a.m. Drove to Montauk to check over clearing on Moskowitz lot in Ditch Plains. Checked Resteno retrofit. Grimes - contractor. Deep hole. Checked before lunch and after lunch. Checked overclearing @ Elises in President's section. Drove to Soak Hides to check on progress of test wells. Back to Montauk to check hole. Office. 9:00 - 4:00.
2 February (this should be March considering that it's written on the pages between 28 Feb and 4 March 1989)
Outrageous! This life, this world, me. It's wacked, totally fucked. Everyone at work is gripping, me too. It sucks, Larry's a dick for what he does. Larry's a dick for what he doesn't do. The public - contractors, builders think he's an ass. He doesn't care. He just keeps on on his struggle to save the East End. He plays the games, bends the laws, drags his feet. He controls. Negatively or positively. He has power. A sign of it is in how all people who come in contact with him end up talking abut him all day. The bitching and moaning go on and on and on. Employees, coworkers, public. Here I am writing about him.
Suffering, man. That's what it's all about. People live on that. They throw themselves in the way of moving trains so that they have a story to tell afterwards. We use people as sinks for our energy. Throwing it, casting it all away from ourselves. Blaming others for the way we are. The way we live. Righteousness is a key factor in the suffering quotient. I am right, look at these facts. They prove that I am right and he is wrong. Suffering is brought about when someone who has proved themselves to be right is wronged. Then all others offer their support. And put out my/their story of being wronged. Where does it end?
The phone rings and who is it? The man I've been writing about. The raging monster/lion famed in stories throughout the land. Wooly eyed and frazzled hair, saliva spitting; long, dirty fingernails. Calm and composed talking about the day's activities and plans for tomorrow.
Larry is a genious. Behind the incoherent trail is a master plan to save the east end, Known only to himself in his own heart and mind. Disclosed to no one. this war to save the environment is not a sentimental one. Just as business interest have raped, pillaged, massacred, and cast aside our once beautiful mother, Larry will do what he has to to save the East End.
3/3/89 Friday - Test well w/ McDonald Geoscience. Chris Peterson#300-49-3-7.1,7.2,39.1 13.4' to water - checked level twice.
ReplyDeleteBurke, S. Greenwich - lot next door 300-32-2-11.3. 5'7" to water. summary of sediment types with depth: 0 - 8" gb; 8" - 4' gb; 4' - 5.7' bcls; 5.7' - 40' bcls; 40' - 50' w in ybcs.
O' Connel/Brisbane - send report of data. Will call Monday.
Checked Montauk Library hole - filled w/ water.
Checked Restivo hole ~25' rings going in.
4 March 1989
Clouds and 15-20 knot wind from the east. Not bone chilling cold like winds in December and January but just because the calendar says it's March.
Gary and I walked through Northwest Harbor Park west of Northwest Creek. Saw a flicker along the way plus a few crows and some chickadees. We even saw three Canadian Geese on our way back along the water, but when I started toward them with camera in hand they were quick to split, honking as they got away unphotographed.
Finally I've "organized" my room and desk.
5 March 1989
ReplyDeleteSitting at my cleared des, munching apple and peanut butter. Last night I realized that I'm taking life too seriously. Work, friends, money, family the whole blame shootin' match I take too bloody seriously. Even the environment and it's rapid state of decline don't matter. What?! How can this be? Whether one gets excited or uptight about these things isn't going to change them. Your own individual actions are what tip scales. Getting excited and not doing anything is no good.
Become water-like. Slip past the "hard" realities. However, there are none, understand?
Terrycito!
Hi. March 5th today. Some heavy fog just rolled in, no I take that back. It's just condensation on the inside of the window.
How are you managing the practical "I's vs. Writer "I"s conflict? Writing letters has been a chore for me lately so I've been neglecting it. I start one and then half way through I get restless and start on something else. The next day I see it laying there on the table partially covered with dust and then toss it in the can. Not much correspondence this way. I haven't quite figured out use of the phone, yet. And this mental telepathy business only seems to work once in a lifetime. So I'm going to blunder on through, hoping you'll understand this letter.
Around Christmas and part way through January I was writing in my journal a couple pages every day. Now weeks will go by before I remember where I left the damned thing. I got to a point there, right as I lost interest/momentum where It seemed I had no new ideas or perceptions. Each entry was a bit of a gripe session; blaming this or that person at work for being a certain way, or people here at the house. A total stagnation of ideas overcame me. Worst of all everything seemed so serious.
Thinking back, the writing period corresponded with "nothing matters" philosophy, and ended with a forgetful, sleepy state. Fortunately, the cycle is turning and I'm beginning to awaken to the beauties of "nothing matters." I guess the internal editor is more powerful than I had expected, and certainly he's lashed securely to more immediate motivations. It is a shame for me that I've attached him to so capricious a character as motivation. I was hoping that I could use journal writing as a way of working through lazy, sleepy consciousness. Then at least one daily activity would be outside of petty, self-centeredness.
Now that I've read these lines over many times I realize that maybe part of the problem is that I have nothing to say. you know, no new ideas. Did you ever have the feeling that every idea you have is really just a copy of someone else's? Apart from no new ideas, the point of "nothing to say" comes to mind.
I want to write to you to let you know I'm thinking about you and hope you are well. But, I don't have anything else to say.
I understand people less and less everyday, especially myself. I think a hermitage would be a good thing, but the problem is dealing with others. to run away from what I don't want.
3/6/89 Collected water samples from road ends in TMH and Hog Creek and one in Accabonac Hbr. Started writing memos for O'Connel, Pederson, and Boyd/James test holes on Friday. 9:15 - 4:15. 45 min. lunch.
ReplyDelete3/7/89 Met Roy Reynolds at 1:15 in Northwest Creek to look @ Quigley septics. 7 ring system. Also looked for evidence of cutting trees in Stoutinger's Pond and raising/lowering of pond. Worked on test hole memoranda for ZBA. 9:15 - 5:30. 1/2 hr. lunch.
3/8/89 Worked on memoranda of test holes from 3/3/89. Got info together for calculating capacity of drainage for retrofitting road drains and installation of catch basins. Went with Larry and Pat Bistrian. Accabonac, Hog Creek, p/o Three Mile Harbor. 9:00 - 4:30. 1/2 hr. lunch.
3/9/89 Jim and I fladded Warhol. Finished letter to Roy Reynolds. 9:00 - 4:00. 1 hr. lunch.
3/10/89 Edwards' Excavator - test hole on Greenwich St., Montauk w/ Mark McDonald. Went to flag Prado - no go. Began flagging Forma on T.M.H. w Sal. 9:00 - 4:00. 1 hr. lunch.
3/13/89 Monday - Went to Deep Sea w/ Jim talked over pilings to be replaced w/ Dave Whelan. Picked up traps @ lab brought to Bluff Rd. Finished all test hole memos gave to Larry. Flagged Forma w/ Jim and checked clearing of trees on Oyster Shores Rd.
3/14/89 Tuesday - Checked out beached seal reported by two people walking on Amagansett Beach. 10:30 - 12:30. Kept people away and waited for Okenos to arrive. Worked up memos for ZBA. Stayed till 5:30 w/ Larry.
3/15/89 Wednesday - Norat test hole w/ Mark Mc Donald. Tried 2nd hold at Lefrino, but hit rock so moved to Norat, 9:00 - 1:00. 1 hr. lunch. Worked on memorandums of other test holes 4:00 home.
3/16/89 Thursday - Worked on overall maps w/ Dave Glassman to fill in immediate watersheds. Larua Reiser and I went to Montauk to work up data for drainage area and flagged three wetlands. 1/2 hr. lunch.
3/17/89 Friday - Osprey towers. 8:00 - 4:30. 1 hr. lunch. Fresh Pond retrofit, Accabonac, Barcelona Neck.
3/20/89 Monday - Trawled and trapped w/ Alex. Met @ TMH @ 10:00. Trawled northern transects. 1/2 hr. lunch. Checked and moved traps/pots after lunch. 9:00 - 4:30.
ReplyDelete3/21/89 Tuesday - Water samples of Oyster Pond and Lake Montauk taken from shore. Drove to Stony Brook. 9:00 - 4:00. 1/2 hr. lunch.
3/22/89 Wednesday
3/23/89 Thursday
3/24/89 Friday - Half day. 9:00 - 12:00. Finished Road drains northwest side of Lake Montauk w/ Laura. Helped Chris and Sal move junk around @ lab (hatchery).
3/27/89 Monday ?
3/28/89 Tuesday - Met John at T & S went to Northwest to pickup 100 cinder blocks from and deleivered to Montauk. Moved junk around in Montauk. took upweller stands to dump w/ Chris. 9:00 - 4:30. 1/2 hr. lunch.
3/29/89 Wednesday - Test holes w/ Mark McDonald. Weinberg, Amagansett and Peter Joyce - Volpe on West Lake Drive, wrote up emeos in office and started/ continued plugging shoreline survey into computer. 9:00 - 5:00. 1 hr. lunch.
3/30/89 Thursday -
3/31/89 Friday - Went to landfill to check depth to sludge in the sludge lagoons. Wrote up memo for Larry. 9:00 - 4:00. 1/2 hr. lunch.
4/3/89 Monday - Water samples T.M.H. w/ Jim Finch. Wells and Sag Harbor. Delivered samples to D.E.C. Picked up P.V.C. pipe at Holbrook Pipe Supply. Gave D.E.C. maps. 9:00 - 5:00. 1 hr. lunch.
ReplyDelete4/4/89 Tuesday - Worked on shoreline survey w/ Laura.
4/5/89 Wednesday - Worked on shoreline survey w/ Dave Glassman. Wrote up memo on dump after finding elevations. Wrote letter to Town Trustees for permission to transplant. 9:00 - 4:00. 1 hr. lunch.
4/6/89 Thursday - Flagged 3 wetlands in East Hampton and worked on one in Montauk. Got Dave Glassman started on sediment analysis in morning. Talked w/ Virginia Goletta about trucking dredge spoil off site. 9:00 - 4:00. 1/2 hr. lunch.
4/7/89 Friday - Measured depth to water in east and west vents at landfill w/ Dave Paolelli. Finished memos and planted pitch pines w/ Girl Scouts on bank at corner of Springy Banks and Wigwam. 9:00 - 4:30. 1/2 hr. lunch.
4/10/89 Monday
4/11/89 Tue
4/9/88 (likely this is 1989 since it's written between 4 March 1989 and 5/3/89)
ReplyDeleteI talked with Steve on Friday about graduate school. He's finishing his Master's with Duke in Environmental Management. That sounds pretty interesting. But I don't know why I'm thinking about further education. I think it's becoming a necessity these days. Plus it offers a way to get out from undeer the whims of beauracrats looking out for their own ego. Maybe this is a way of serving my ego. Knowledge is power?
4/11/89 Tuesday - Flagging Montauk in afternoon. On phone in morning w/ Larry. Sue checked Rattinay wells
4/12/89 Wednesday - Lot inspections and flagging w/ Sue
4/13/89 Thursday - 2 goose chases. Montauk - a.m. to flag Bernhard, remove flags off part of Estler. Flagging w/ Dave G. in T.M.H. and Accabonac.
ReplyDelete4/14/89 Friday - flag wetlands.
4/16/89 - Aerial drawing of 95 Pelham Street showing vegetable/flower beds planned for the back yard. Alos lists seeds planted indoors and in cold frames on south side of house including: cosmos, daisy, marigold, myosotis, statice, verbena, cucumber, eggplant, leek, okra, pea, tomato, basil, caraway chives, coriander, dill, fennel, marjoram, pennyroyal, rosemary, yarrow.
4-17-89 Monday - Water samples Sag Harbor. Chris sampled Accabonac, John sampled Oyster Pond. Meaured wells at Rattina in afternoon.
ReplyDelete4/18/89 Tuesday - Checked Malerba landscape. Water samples Hog Creek, John and Lisa sampled Oyster Pond. Drove to Montauk after lunch stopped at Malerba. Looked for garbage on west side Fort Pond Bay. Stopped at lab did some splicing. Measure distance to wetland (wrong way) at Jensen. 1 hr. lunch. Worked on drainage for Larry (9:30 p.m. - 10:30 p.m.)
4-19-89 Wednesday
5/3/89
My attitude towards work is eroding. I'm not really doing anything productive. If anything, I feel I'm hindering. What we do I suppose is good, this environmental protection business of flagging wetlands, writing adn fining for violations. But again I don't seem to fit in very well. Perhaps it is that I think about things too much. When you think too much you're never happy. What is the answer? It's hard to say.
Sometimes I think maybe I should move away from here. It could be this environment, my surroundings. Then again, as the saying goes: "No matter where you go, there you are." For me I know it's more of the latter. These sayings are decieving though. Sometimes you use them to your detriment. You need to consider many angles, weigh the facts, and come to a conclusion.
5/7/89
Three years since Dad died. I talked to Mom on the phone today. She sounds pretty cheerful. What can I say about death? It sucks, but then that's just because I took him for granted and he died. Not because I took him for granted obviously. What a sleep walker I am though. Great friends and family and I take them for granted and moan about not being able to afford to fix the boat ("Seasoned"), blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. Typical. no.
5/21/89
ReplyDeleteTerry's here for a visit. Visits are interesting occurrences as they make it possible for family or friends to get together and spend time. In this day and age, it seems the art of visiting and being visited is vanishing, people seem to feel uncomfortable or uneasy. Host, "What would you like to do?" Visitor, "Oh, why anything you'd like to do." It seems awkward. The framework of everyday goings on (work) is removed. Almost directionless meandering. Which is okay. But shifting from a work/purposeful mode to a meandering is difficult, at least for me. This, in turn, is a direct reflection of my increasing state of hyperactivity. Continual, increased action, activity.
6/17/89
Here I am. Self-conscious. The boat's ("Seasoned") almost ready to hit the water. Tomorrow in she goes. I'm not managing time too well. I forget to leave spaces for doing absolutely nothing. Or space for reading and writing, or riding my bike. I guess I need to do this: getting so deep in doing things that I learn to say "no." I'm being swallowed by activities. Readying the boat, trapping and tracking turtles (mud turtles, helping Jim Cavanaugh with a project he was doing for South Fork Natural Hisotry Society), working at Chris's (Chris Zaloga, a friend and neighbor who has her home on the other side of the hedges and was paying me to do work for her) on Saturdays to make up for not working during the week. It's a crazy ordering. The tide is about ready to go slack. The boat is on it's way. Chris's too will be slowing down becasue Antonio is coming in the last part of the summer. What will I do with my time? Better start getting more things lined up! Ha. I'm going to set up my tent in the backyard with the rabbits and the garden. I'm going to shower under the garden hose. I'm going to lay in the hammock and rock to and fro in the afternoon sun.
I'll laugh at how distracted I was back in June over silly things like watching turtles, painting and sanding the boat and complaining about not being able to save money for the land were rattling around in my brain. Waking me up in the morning wiht the first rustling of the birds. How completely ludicrous I am.
Log Yacht "Lady Marian"
ReplyDeleteFrom: Majorca, Spain
To: Southampton, Great Britain
Date: June 20, 1989
Remarks:
Suprise! As you are reading this we are sailing somewhere between the Mediterranian Sea and the English Channel. As the sun rises we will be thinking of you while the Captain of the ship "Lady Marian" marries us. We hope you'll share a toast with us now, in a celebration of love and friendship.
Love, Lisa (Hanscom - she graduated with the "gang": Rich Muller, Jennifer Darling, Gary Seff, Wendel ?, Tim Dinan from Southampton College in May 1986) and Scott (McAskill - Lisa met Scott on Cape Cod where she was wokring after returning from her work in Australia.)
P.S. We will be returning on Wednesdday, June 28 at 1:00 p.m.. "Northwest" flight #49 London to Boston at Terminal E of Logan Airport. We'll be havng a marguerita after our long flight at the "Port of Boston" lounge (located in the same terminal). If you have a few minuts to join us we'd love to see you, otherwise we'll catch up with you sometime this summer!
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteSince I was employed as a part-time contractor, I kept track of the hours I worked and the work I did. This record allowed me to complete accurate time sheets to be paid for my work.
ReplyDeleteThe following are some abbreviations I used in my work descriptions:
UPW - upweller
BP - Bumped, as in bumping upwellers.
SK- Skimmed, the settling pond where water leaving the hatchery went before going through pipes, 300 yards to a final settling pond landward of the beach at Fort Pond Bay. Nutrients in the water caused several species of green macroalgae to grow in the pond. Eventually the algae would die and become foul smelling so we skimmed the algae off on a regular basis to let it dry in the sun.
PD - settling pond described above.
B.C.T. - building conical table. We built 8 tables. Each table held three conicals. After building the tables we covered them with several coats of coal tar to keep them from rotting.
A.M/P.M. T. - Recording incoming water temperature in A.M. and P.M.
DATE, TIME IN/ TIME OUT/ LUNCH/ACCOMPLISHMENTS
7/30/90 12:00/5:00 12-2 SKPD. Afternoon temp, BPUPW
7/31/90 8:30/6:15 12-1 SK PD, Separated nailed boards, BCT, moved UPW tanks, w/ JA, (John Aldred) BPUW
8/1/90 8:00/11:30 SK PD, BP UPW, BCT
8/2/90 8:00/7:30 3:30-4:00 SK PD, BP UPW, BCT, worked on 5 hp pump w/ JA, Cleaned UPW, measured clams and distributed w/ JA and ST (Sue Talay).
8/3/90 9:30/5:00 1:30 - 2:00. BP UPW, moved cinder blocks (used to support upwellers, we hadn't built tables for upweller tanks yet), set up cleaning table, Put core samples into T.T. Cleaned up pipes in conical area.
8/4/90 1:00/2:00 Cut 2 pieces wood, BPUPW, SK PD.
8/5/90 12:30/3:30 BP UPW, Cut wood for 2 conical tables, weeded front loading dock.
8/6/90 8:15/5:30, 1:30 - 2:30, SK PD, BP UPW, Filled out Civil Service Packet, went to Town Hall, Bluff Rd., Riverhead Bldg. Worked w/ Rick (Salter) in p.m. Southampton Lumber for 2 x 4's and carriage bolts. Cut angled pieces for conical tables. Picked up A.C. (for algae room) from P.C. Richard's in Southampton, BP UPW. P.M. T