the nomadic life: side b

on another coast in another time zone, i feel the rush of newness. perhaps i'm too much of a sensationalist, careening from one experience to another. but why not indulge the senses? i have to know, i have to know, show me, show me. then i calmly sit at my computer, a cup of coffee by my side and report the wilderness of my current state. the metaphor of an amusement park comes to mind. so many faces and lights and sounds and life. i pick out pieces and pin them to this paper canvas. this is what i've seen, have you noticed? and in my report i aim to find truth, to present others with a story.

i am a happy nomad today, feeling thankful for all i know and have experienced. i try to conjure up my summer but it flickers in front of my mind like a flirtatious fire. when i'm ready, it seems to say, i will show you. my logical self balks. it demands a list. for twenty two days, it wants a list. i think of indulging it, but how horribly boring. rather than the fluid spontaneity of my creative mind, this list loving logical self demands the mechanical facts. less like love making more like text book discussions of sex. either way, it should be done and so, a list:

1. "wild" ponies, jesus and allah
2. hikers and thank yous
3. rain and shelter under a tarp
4. a stolen tarp, regained and placed in girls' tent
5. big rocks--big buck and the last of the Mahicans
6. rotting flies
7. sunsets atop the ridge
8. lord of the rings landscape
9. presidents card game
10. lunch under a shaded tree
11. cobra and the waterfall
12. epic drives with old crow medicine show
13. poison ivy, rubbing alcohol and doughnuts in parking lot
14. vermonster
15. waterfall
16. nightswimming in the new river
17. down pour on pack out day and the trail that was a river
18. ice cream brought by other crew
19. tie dye shirts
20. wild and wonderful state fair, dancing and bull riding
21. arnold palmer and pickles
22. mexican food and the whipped cream incident.

portland, Or. it's beginning to drizzle. a pigeon feather cuts through the air like a ninja star. portland is so edgy. they can't just have leaves dancing in the sky, they throw feathers like weapons, a complicated juxtaposition. but that's what edgy people in an edgy city do. i can see myself becoming cynical here. maybe it's the weather. maybe it's the stoop i'm sitting on. gasp, maybe it's me? i laugh, ha, what a hypochondriac i am, a disease of the writer. in wanting to experience it all, i feel i must have it all. well, not all of it. i amend my statement, i'm a selective hypochondriac. ha, how silly. if anyone else where to put such a label on me i would deny it straight away, but self-labeling, well that's like playing dress-up, and who doesn't want to laugh and pretend they're someone else for a while?

i took a 17 hour train from Berkeley, CA to Portland, OR. the train was fairly comfortable and there were some truly heart aching moments. in fact, the few hours spent outside the entirely green corridor made the entire trip worth it. i wish only that i was a little more awake so i could have written. and yet, i'm beginning to accept that i'm an after-the-fact writer. being in the midst of something, especially something as heart tightening as a coastal view from a train, i cannot write. i must observe it clearly. one of these days (i say that a lot) i will buckle down and write what i've seen. one of these days.