Iām going on hiatus for a little while. Iām tired and confused and I donāt have much to contribute that I havenāt already.
I donāt know what to do with myself. I donāt know that anyone does.
Iād like to go to the beach, stare at the water. A grey beach, not a sunny one. On a foggy day, no differentiation between water and sky. Like when I was a kid in a bodysuit and kicking on a boogie board, my mom watching me, my dad asleep in the rental. It was horrifically cold, the water, but then warm.
Iād take a sandwich and a peach flavored drink. Chips. Maybe put the chips in the sandwich. A Capri Sun. No boogie board. I wouldnāt bring anything else. I think Iād be alone. Not even a book I know I wonāt read. Or a journal I know I wonāt write in. Ideally no phone, but then Iād get lost probably.
āāBoogie boardā primarily refers to a brand of foam wave-riding board (a bodyboard). However, the name is also universally applied to electronic LCD writing tabletsā¦ā
But the beach is several hours away, and I canāt get there, especially not alone. Maybe I wouldnāt be alone. I donāt know, I am indecisive about this imagined scenario.
Maybe Iāll just take increasingly long baths. Itās grey in there, during the day. A sliver of sky above the tub, a window.
I realize this is just the sick cure for melancholy back in the day. Other odd illnesses of temperament. Seas and baths and that kind of thing. Hot springs.
Not lost at sea, not found either. Just sort of there, instead of sort of here. But it also has bad memories, too. The coast. Not a neutral good. So maybe Iāll stay away. Try to imagine one that doesnāt really exist. That my dad didnāt choose. Drive me to. Maybe one we found on our own, and drove to by ourselves. Mom, and me in the backseat, or the passenger. Windows open.
Iāll just leave this here.
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