It’s a cold and beautiful night in Trinidad. Right now I’m reclined across the front seat of the camper I’m sleeping in that’s parked in the kind-hearted alley way behind my grandma’s cottage. The water pump keeps readjusting itself and shattering the silence, scaring the wits out of me. I’m jumpy tonight, probably because when I took the dog on a walk a few moments ago he tried to take off toward something in the bushes and it made my mind go off on a “what lurks in the shadows” tangent. Generally though, I’m finally starting to feel relaxed. It usually takes me a few days to begin to unwind, and my grandma has been encouraging the process with art supplies, amazing meals and desserts (the desserts of which she claims will each take 30 seconds off of my mile time. ) Since I’ve been here I’ve hardly done anything to help my physical appearance but shower… mascara if we’re going out. It’s so nice not to get done-up every day.
I went on a walk down to the beach earlier and since I don’t have a care in the world right now, I let my mind think about what ever it felt like. My walk crested a steep ravine covered in wildflowers and blackberries and it reminded me of a very similar ravine that my Grandma used to live above. My sisters and I would harness retractable dog leashes to the beams under my Grandmas porch, clip them to our belt loops and rappel down the ravine into the bushes and bramble. I remember one eventful afternoon, my belt loop gave and sent me tumbling all the way down the steep hillside. It was so dramatic. Ashley, wearing her green fleece and her Teva’s, her pretty forehead exposed by a low ponytail, yelled, “ERIKA!!!!” and desperately outstretched her arm as she watched me tumble to my fate. She quickly unharnessed and shuffled through the loose soil down down to me. Her highly specialized water shoes were not made for such endeavors and the Velcro was never quite the same after that rescue mission. As it turned out, I was fine. A little shaken, a little scratched from the blackberries, but mostly upset that I was down a belt loop.
I have no Internet right now, and since I don’t have a decent word processor I’m writing this post on a giant virtual post-it. The only book I brought here is Cultural Amnesia, which is a slow, heavy read… and the only movie I have on my computer is One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest. I can be so morose without even meaning to!
Before I forget… A few posts back I mentioned some things about Martha Stewart’s blog, joked about the buy-in rate for high society San Francisco and uttered the word “moderate”? If you don’t remember, that’s best. And if you do, I’m retracting those statements after some consideration. I had just seen a very haute episode of Gossip Girl and felt emotionally compelled toward a more conservative, high society lifestyle. But simply because I’d love to sail a yacht in the San Francisco bay doesn’t mean I have to pigeon-hole myself. I am still a democrat, make no mistake.
Anyway, I’m having a great time up here making art, running in the redwoods, laughing with my Grandma… There is nothing like coastal mist and foggy forests to settle the soul.
Right as I typed that calming line, the water pump went off and got my blood racing again.
I’m sleeping with John Mayer tonight as an homage to the fact that the Trio is on the Tonight Show and I can’t watch it. THE TRIO. I just let out a big, big sigh… The Trio…. The Trio… I won’t ever get past the song Out Of My Mind on Where The Light Is. It BLOWS MY MIND, every time. That song, and Gravity. Listening to it right now….. the live versions of these songs make me feel like I’m in love (that is, until they end.) The instrumental build-up in Out Of My Mind is how good love should be.
Hoping the water pump doesn’t down shift again,