Blind Strike

{June 19, 2007}   Sunset on the bluff

I had hoped I would be self-motivated enough to post before Quintan cracked the whip over my shoulders, but in my heart I knew, here I am having just graduated from the most harrowing of MFA programs, it’s summer in Alaska, and I am just lazy. I spent my evening on a bluff overlooking the Turnagain Arm. My friend Andrew drove us out there in his RV for a hippie jam with didjeridoo, flutes, and drums. The sun hit the horizon around midnight, the sky was an amazing purple-pink, we seranaded a moose cow and her calf…it’s hard to make time to be online when I’m busy having the best summer of my life. But hey, I think I’m starting to get the hang of this. 


hidingkayak says:

didjeridoos and moose too
okay im jealous:)!

howdy! I miss you but glad to hear you are having a great summer. Wink at a moose for me and bow to the sunset for me!


quintan says:

CCCCC r a aaachk. I like to think the sound of my whip is more like a gentle ocean breeze, replete with the sound of seagulls and perhaps a distant fishmonger’s bell (i don’t know if there’s such a thing as a fishmonger’s bell–i just sort of heard a faintly delightful ringing in my ears)…

On the other hand, when I think of hippie jam, I think of my old roommate in Seattle in ’93 who was, shall we say, not remotely anything that I PERSONALLY would enjoy with peanut butter on a nice slab of bread.

But Turnagain Arm is distinctly hopeful–like maybe the shoulder rotator cuff is a post-cyborg evolutionary improvement on the human form, so that I could really actually do the human windmill move with the jump rope without the hassel of dislocating my shoulder from my arm. I hear the schoolchildren shouting to this mutant me a little nursery rhyme designed to make me do the magic windmill. the song goes a little something like TURNAGAIN TURN AGAIN TURN AGAIN ARM!!! TURN AGAIN, TURN, AGAIN, TURN, AGAIN–ARM! And everytime time they would shout ARM they would try to step on the rope but mutant me would be too fast.

besides, the best summers are the PERFECT ones to ruin with some good old fashioned writing. In fact, some might say that anything worth writing about is worth ruining. Or contrarians might say, anything worth ruining is CERTAINLY worth writing about.


hidingkayak says:

man, I remember last summer my truck broke down in May and it wasn’t until August that I got it fixed. Nothing like having no money, no truck, 100degree weather, and the only work was feeding birds and taking care of people’s house and pets as they had fled elsewhere for the summer…good time to write yes sirree summertime,

Rick says:

“Moose cow” is a phrase one hardly ever hears anymore, and that saddens me.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

et cetera
%d bloggers like this: