. . . when i was young and filled with whatever, Roy and i were untiring (i will never feel good about using 'indefatigable'). One winter weekend found us driving Ireland clockwise. The beaches were stoic and sometimes we would walk them with Remy before our toast and pudding (white and red) and heavy tea or coffee. In some walks, along the cliffs, the ocean mist is full as rain and smells nothing like air-fresheners by the same name.
'lets do some iceskating' someone said, so we went. (why not?) and it was there that Roy bumped into a someone- a girl with nice eyes and all that; he nearly knocked her over. And then said- flippantly serious and well meant, still in my ears:
'your beauty is enough to overcome all bias.'
it's the 'here's looking at you, kid' of this younger, no longer simple, generation.
He studies aesthetics, and i still haven't shaken my tendency to discard the red pudding, but let me tell you what it's like to live on or near the ocean.
. . . There is a phenomenon common among those at sea, near it, or who only dream of it. I call it the VanDerMerwe effect (Afrikaans for Of-the-Ocean) It is this- one sees so few people.
Now I can only speak as a cisgendered, strait male, as i have only ever been one. In my case, i see so few women, spend such time alone, and often like to think that i am living near death. after weeks of this, any women I see becomes the most beautiful of my life. it's like lemonade .Those who suffer from VanDerMerwe Syndrome become enamored with such quickness, but only seldom meet the object of their unrequited etc. . . .
Here is a picture of the ocean. we get up at night to pee, looking at this.
here is a picture of me falling in love.
Erik Riley and i marveled over this mug shot,the first image, over white chocolate cappuccinos and i found it hidden in my wallet on my greyhound ride away.
Joan Trumpauer was arrested in Jackson, Mississippi while taking part in the original freedom rides.