so what happens was.
D and I drove out to the beach. Sat in a car listening to george carlin cd that was very funny but starkly anti-religion. I laughed out loud and innerly smirked at the relentless abuse of religious idiocy. I was so special and so much smarter than the spirtual hounds unable to cope with the dark realities in the world. I was so above all that.
The road twists and turns and we pull up to the right beach. We get lost for twenty frustrating minutes while searching for some street that we just missed a "N" on. Fuck it. Pull into the rented house and surprise everybody with our presense. Have a few drinks, play Celebrity (a very fun game). I sit and think about how cute a person kerrith is. She should have her own television show. 24 hours of kerrith just hanging out. She reminds me, intensely, of Patsy and Heidi.
The next day over about a dozen people make a great breakfeast together and Tamara comes and the sun isn't brillant but we'll go out to the beach anyway.
I get there first, to the actual beach. I lay in the sand with shirt and shorts and cigarette and think about nothing much more than hoping I strike a profound figure in the sand when the others come up to sit near me.
Dusty and some of the ladies come up. Tamara shorty after. The girls get into a cuddle-puddle. They've all dated one another from time to time, and now make the closest of friends. It's all serioulsy worked on relationships...with much openness and deftness. I admire them all. Dusty and I are from time to time educators and mascots. We educate about the simple laughter and strenght of maleness (which many of our friends had long rejected or denied the existant of long before), and we play the mascots by playing the clowns. Both these roles are satisfying, and only one is truly remarked upon. Lately, our true part of the group has deepened and solidified, so that our friends mock fellow lesbians along with us, whenever we are given a stiff shoulder or stand-off-ish attitude. We have broadened one another, these friends and us.
Dusty and I go swimming. I wear my glasses at first. We rush and tug at the water, slapping at the waves and screaming insults at the water like georgy carlin did to the spirituals.
We head back, and drop off my glasses. Then back in the water.
We push ourselves deeper and deeper into the surf. I like it close to where the waves form and break big and nasty. It's fun to dive through them, or attempt to surf them
Tamara comes out to see and play with us.
Dusty, Tamara, and Adam swim and laugh and play and play and laugh and jump and giggle and struggle and jump and struggle and laugh and struggle and struggle and then
at some point, I realize that I cannot touch the bottom, and the undertow that had been remarked upon a coupla of times was tugging fiercely. I watched tamara swim with all her might towards the shore, and just get sucked farther out right along with me. Dusty was tired, getting hit by wave after wave. He had panic in his eyes. Tamara said
"we need help"
I had alread called for help, under my breath. My t-shirt was heavy and I strained to keep my head above the water.
At some point, it became obvious that I could stay with my friends and go through whatever it was they were going through, or I could swim as hard as I could. I started swimming for shore. I started about five or six feet from tamara and dusty.
I watched for the waves, but still couldn't stop one or another from breaking over my head, sending sprays of water and pulsing panic up my arms and legs.. I swam hard as I ever have, and made it about three feet closer to shore every wave cycle.
At one point, when I still coudln't touch after almost completely exhuasing myself, I was sure I would die.
I pumped harder through the water. I pulled and pulled and kicked and kicked. This time, when the wave poured over me I could feel the bottom. I swam some more. A little more bottom now, but still not enough to grip onto and pull myself to shore. Swam again, full force. Now I was completely out of energy. But I could touch enough to grip in when the undertow pulled out after the reseading wave.
I didn't look back. I was screaming for help now, asking someone on the beach to help me, my friends were drowning.
I couldn't see the beach. I had taken off my glasses. I didn't know if anyone heard me, or saw me, as I stumbled closer and closer. I knew, through my entire body, that I had left my friends to die.
A friend of ours came and put a blanket around me, held on and rocked me while I cried softly, "i left them, i left them, i left them"...
she had to go and see what was to be helped.
i walked (now with glasses on) to the top of the beach, and sat by the water. I didn't look up, but heard the ambulance truck. I knew they were too late, and would find just bodies. My friend told me that they were ok, that she could see them, and so could I if I looked up. But I knew she was trying to prevent me from having a panic attack. I knew. I had left my friends to die. It was the only thing to do, but I still had left my friends to die.
A few minutes later, I looked up and saw Dusty and Tamara being walked slowly up the beach by ambulance crew and friends. They were ok.
Just earlier that day, I was thinking about the water. How you can draw anything you want in the beach's sand, and the tide would wash it away. Make any castle...no matter how grand or worked upon. No matter the ideology behind it, or the pain/pleasure derived from it. Any human effort is simply washed away by the tide.
And just the same day as thiking about that, I felt it all around me. Trapping and torturing me with the simple fact of it's indiference. George Carlin or no, I prayed intensly for god to save my friends and to not put this icy spout into my heart. I knew how it would be. The thing itself was already forming as a lump inside me. If my friends had not been pulled out of the water, that lump would have covered my heart forever.
Hours later, we were all around the fire having drinks and talking about sex.
Strange weekend
Adam
D and I drove out to the beach. Sat in a car listening to george carlin cd that was very funny but starkly anti-religion. I laughed out loud and innerly smirked at the relentless abuse of religious idiocy. I was so special and so much smarter than the spirtual hounds unable to cope with the dark realities in the world. I was so above all that.
The road twists and turns and we pull up to the right beach. We get lost for twenty frustrating minutes while searching for some street that we just missed a "N" on. Fuck it. Pull into the rented house and surprise everybody with our presense. Have a few drinks, play Celebrity (a very fun game). I sit and think about how cute a person kerrith is. She should have her own television show. 24 hours of kerrith just hanging out. She reminds me, intensely, of Patsy and Heidi.
The next day over about a dozen people make a great breakfeast together and Tamara comes and the sun isn't brillant but we'll go out to the beach anyway.
I get there first, to the actual beach. I lay in the sand with shirt and shorts and cigarette and think about nothing much more than hoping I strike a profound figure in the sand when the others come up to sit near me.
Dusty and some of the ladies come up. Tamara shorty after. The girls get into a cuddle-puddle. They've all dated one another from time to time, and now make the closest of friends. It's all serioulsy worked on relationships...with much openness and deftness. I admire them all. Dusty and I are from time to time educators and mascots. We educate about the simple laughter and strenght of maleness (which many of our friends had long rejected or denied the existant of long before), and we play the mascots by playing the clowns. Both these roles are satisfying, and only one is truly remarked upon. Lately, our true part of the group has deepened and solidified, so that our friends mock fellow lesbians along with us, whenever we are given a stiff shoulder or stand-off-ish attitude. We have broadened one another, these friends and us.
Dusty and I go swimming. I wear my glasses at first. We rush and tug at the water, slapping at the waves and screaming insults at the water like georgy carlin did to the spirituals.
We head back, and drop off my glasses. Then back in the water.
We push ourselves deeper and deeper into the surf. I like it close to where the waves form and break big and nasty. It's fun to dive through them, or attempt to surf them
Tamara comes out to see and play with us.
Dusty, Tamara, and Adam swim and laugh and play and play and laugh and jump and giggle and struggle and jump and struggle and laugh and struggle and struggle and then
at some point, I realize that I cannot touch the bottom, and the undertow that had been remarked upon a coupla of times was tugging fiercely. I watched tamara swim with all her might towards the shore, and just get sucked farther out right along with me. Dusty was tired, getting hit by wave after wave. He had panic in his eyes. Tamara said
"we need help"
I had alread called for help, under my breath. My t-shirt was heavy and I strained to keep my head above the water.
At some point, it became obvious that I could stay with my friends and go through whatever it was they were going through, or I could swim as hard as I could. I started swimming for shore. I started about five or six feet from tamara and dusty.
I watched for the waves, but still couldn't stop one or another from breaking over my head, sending sprays of water and pulsing panic up my arms and legs.. I swam hard as I ever have, and made it about three feet closer to shore every wave cycle.
At one point, when I still coudln't touch after almost completely exhuasing myself, I was sure I would die.
I pumped harder through the water. I pulled and pulled and kicked and kicked. This time, when the wave poured over me I could feel the bottom. I swam some more. A little more bottom now, but still not enough to grip onto and pull myself to shore. Swam again, full force. Now I was completely out of energy. But I could touch enough to grip in when the undertow pulled out after the reseading wave.
I didn't look back. I was screaming for help now, asking someone on the beach to help me, my friends were drowning.
I couldn't see the beach. I had taken off my glasses. I didn't know if anyone heard me, or saw me, as I stumbled closer and closer. I knew, through my entire body, that I had left my friends to die.
A friend of ours came and put a blanket around me, held on and rocked me while I cried softly, "i left them, i left them, i left them"...
she had to go and see what was to be helped.
i walked (now with glasses on) to the top of the beach, and sat by the water. I didn't look up, but heard the ambulance truck. I knew they were too late, and would find just bodies. My friend told me that they were ok, that she could see them, and so could I if I looked up. But I knew she was trying to prevent me from having a panic attack. I knew. I had left my friends to die. It was the only thing to do, but I still had left my friends to die.
A few minutes later, I looked up and saw Dusty and Tamara being walked slowly up the beach by ambulance crew and friends. They were ok.
Just earlier that day, I was thinking about the water. How you can draw anything you want in the beach's sand, and the tide would wash it away. Make any castle...no matter how grand or worked upon. No matter the ideology behind it, or the pain/pleasure derived from it. Any human effort is simply washed away by the tide.
And just the same day as thiking about that, I felt it all around me. Trapping and torturing me with the simple fact of it's indiference. George Carlin or no, I prayed intensly for god to save my friends and to not put this icy spout into my heart. I knew how it would be. The thing itself was already forming as a lump inside me. If my friends had not been pulled out of the water, that lump would have covered my heart forever.
Hours later, we were all around the fire having drinks and talking about sex.
Strange weekend
Adam