[<< | Prev | Index | Next | >>]

Tuesday, September 12, 2000

I, Cyrano

Last night, I had a couple of dreams...

In one, Garrett*, I, and others were down by the ocean cliffs, and we wanted to get into a certain area but it was "closed". Garrett* was determined to ignore that, so we all pushed forward, clamored our way into a large warehouse of sorts. What followed was actually quite an elaborate scenario, but in sum we ended up with cops pulling up on all sides and raiding the building, and the dream ended when I decided there was no place left to run or hide.

In the other dream, a friend was introducing me to a good friend of his, a woman who he had some interest in. We said our initial hellos, and then she said, somewhere between amazed and matter-of-factly, "you're so ugly!" The intonation was what you would expect of someone expressing sympathy for two broken arms or something. I chuckled through a twisted smile, raised a brow, and gave her a look that said, simply, "oh well." It didn't particularly offend me, as beauty is in the eye of the beholder. But there was the pain of the numbers game, in being reminded that each chain we find is only as strong as its weakest link.

Garrett* dragged me down for a couple hours of wind surfing today. It's been three months, but I just hopped on the board and sailed off as comfortable as when I left. Even pulled off some gnarly spinout recoveries, a couple small jumps, and had three near jibes. And to top it off, I didn't even get my leg bit off by a tiger shark like that other guy did in this same spot last month. (I decided instead to take the opposite approach and headed out to the Fish Market in Paia for sashimi and a mahi burger.)

Here's my latest Journal Script if anybody wants it.

[<< | Prev | Index | Next | >>]

Simon Funk / simonfunk@gmail.com