Dusty skies. Dusty days. Dust under my fingernails…peru, I’ve got peru under my fingernails. And the hot-heat and the long-road, and the asphalt spitting fire and the air with that vmmmmmmmm vmmmmmmmmm vmmmmmmmmm vmmmmmmm vmmmm mantra that I can only hear on those days when the sun is a foot off the ground for hours at a time, (and only if I’m listening, which I can’t help but listen right now because it’s just me out there, me and all the me’s I’ve ever been and all the me’s I want to be and especially the me I’m trying to be at this very moment) and bugs add their counterpoint to that hum with scrape-buzz-crackle-zoom, and it’s all pulsing and pulsing and pulsing, like I’m spinning in circles but really it’s a straight line I’m on, never been more straight, two parallel lines meeting, piercing the horizon and this world of burnt grass and bony trees sears my eyes and my feet are swollen and my legs ache and the water in the bottle gets warmer and warmer till it feels with each sip like I’m drinking this day right into me and I sweat and the sun dries it into little cakes and contour lines of pure salt on my shirt and thirst is no longer a concept or an idea or an obligation, it is everything and here there is no water, just that tiny bit sloshing at the bottom of the bottle, and it is all I want, but I can’t touch it, not now, because I just had a sip, just a moment ago, but it seems like forever, and even trying, I can’t remember how it felt on my lips, in my mouth, like it never happened, and all I can think now, over and over is “how far to the next town?”
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4 comments to how far? a stream of consciousness thingy |
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sitting. sitting. standing. teaching. math. numbers. equations. LOHS. the new school smell still there, under my fingernails, LOHS under my fingernails….adolescents…..issues…..drama…..tardy…..absent, cold season, tardy, add the three to both sides, lunch, bell schedule, assembly, backpacks, hairstyles, iPods, lunch bags, pony tails, sweat pants, baseball caps, clouds, warm afternoons with a new wind in the air, a new fresh foreshadowing of rain, football, volleyball, cross country, leaving early for soccer, goals, touchdowns, yellow cards, digs, spikes, ankle injuries, knees, shoulders, calculators, notebooks, pencils, pens, erasers, “can i borrow a sheet of paper?” white boards, smart boards, chalk boards a thing of the past, i’m tired, i need more rest, i need more time, how many times have i taught slope? how many times have i answered that same question? will my path ever be in a perpendicular direction from this place? or will i always remain parallel? every year a parallel line to this one…slope, y intercept – how long until the next vacation? it seems like that might be my question……but it’s not………………here i am. now.
Hey Ian, happy birthday! I hope I am deeply in living my dreams as you are now when I am 37 (I’m gettin’ there
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Here’s a quote or two to ponder whilst you walk:
Nature teaches more than she preaches. There are no sermons in stones. It
is easier to get a spark out of a stone than a moral. -John Burroughs,
naturalist and writer (1837-1921)
Understanding a person does not mean condoning; it only means that one does
not accuse him as if one were God or a judge placed above him. -Erich
Fromm, psychoanalyst and author (1900-1980)
Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.
-Kahlil Gibran, mystic, poet, and artist (1883-1931)
May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the
most amazing view. May your mountains rise into and above the clouds.
-Edward Abbey, naturalist and author (1927-1989)
…. Friday. Riding paper airplanes, it feels really good, so good that I can’t even move right now, I should screen-capture this moment, seal it in tupperware, bury it. Well, I really should start making some sense: okay, listening to a new tune by Cowboy Curtis I know that I need to pull myself out of here, but I have come to rest, and now I need a new force to send me in another direction… Waiting patiently on some porches that get little company, I witness some curtains cracking, windows lifting. But then from behind somebody uncharacteristically drops a used tired reaction on the floor before his feet. It lingered over there for only a few seconds, and then it was gone, no trace. I’m still not making sense… okay, I don’t think I am going to today, so…. where the hell is my new force? Ahh, here it is.
Hi Ian,
I’m not sure why I thought of you as it’s ages since I met you and ages since I was travelling myself. I met you my Australian friend in Argentina somewhere – we called you museli man!! If you can remember that i bet it seems like a long, long time ago! Great to hear you’re so far as Peru but I read you broke your back and leg? Goodness, how did you do that? Hope it’s all ok but I’m guessing so as you’re still on the move. I think what you are doing is totally incredible, I wish I had the courage to do something so fantastic. Well done and keep it up!
Annabel from England.