16.7.11

Dreams and Dolly Varden


it's morning and the surface of this ocean looks like the way an egg carton looks when it's in the fire and you cannot look away.you can't remember it when it isn't there, but when it's there you cannot look away.
The arches of my feet are not yet soar and i am drinking a black cup of peanut shells which likely was made last night. when we are out for more than a day, Lee will make folgers coffee in a bodum french press. there are bible verses about this kind of thing. it's like reusing paper-towels.
Last time i worked on the F/V Shiloh, I was accompanied by a small and impressive mp3 machine. a gift from a small and impressive restaurant manager in california: Roni Hernandez. An EMT, Army Veteran, mother and prison guard. You've got to wonder how many patches were on her girlscouts uniform. anyway, it was nice then to listen to the cream trance summer hits of 2009 and to the Alchemy Index but it is equally nice to now have all the silence one could ask for. to have no choice but to let myself think.
Last night in my dream- at some harbor. there were fires and old couples who were nice to me and talked like soup. there were plenty of gypsies and people chosen at random from the places (and people) i've been in the past. there was Bill Sleasman- the real-life, true-named, halftoothed and kindhearted exaggerator who run's one of the docks and gave us permission to camp behind it. He was playing guitar in a manner i had never before seen and which was, if memory is the judge, the most beautiful thing i've ever heard. the gypsies were moved and in my dream i was crying. and when i woke up i thought i still was. i rocked back to sleep and Saw someone i've sometimes missed very much and it was nice and she was with someone who said he was her husband. 'You're young' I said. 'too late now' he said. Except i made that up. we didn't talk because my captain shook my shoulder and i was out of my bunk and drinking coffee. I don't know what i would have said if I'd stayed asleep.
the morning was bland, but ever since we've had southbound fish hitting our net in bunches. You get used to the jelly fish stinging up and down your arms as long as your picking plenty of salmon out of the net and we have been. we caught a dolly varden and a flounder too and i'll be taking them back and have them over our fire. Gold-miners eat Dolly Varden out of the lakes were you can't drive to them and have too pay a pilot or spend a few weeks walking to get to them.

Anyway, the rain is coming soon and it will make the tea taste like port because we'll be cold and have to work so hard each morning on the fire.

one of two notes left at our campsite. along with the eviction notice from the police.

3 comments:

  1. got your postcard today. love it. on fridge. if i send one to the kenai library, do you think they'll keep it for you to pick up? i bet. thanks. i miss you.

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  2. Such a great description of Bill! I'm glad he let you camp at the dock.

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  3. i sent a letter to you c/o the kenai public library. inform an employee so that you get it if it ever makes its way there.

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