April 26th, 2004.

Yes, the pagans. So many conversations, so out of my depth – the speaker’s name was Sam Webster – Google him and read. I don’t feel that I’m dumb, but I certainly couldn’t comprehend half of what it was that he was writing. Maybe I was only half paying attention – but even half paying attention, I usually do better than most, and I wonder at the effectiveness of trying to spread a viewpoint when that viewpoint is incomprehensible to all those not already in the fold.

Flame breathin fire ballin exploding men.
Flame breathin fire ballin exploding men.

It’s become one of those nights where you realize you shouldn’t have taken the nap. The trees are blowing back and forth with unrealized electric energy, destined to be denied, as it looks like the storms that were teasing our horizon earlier have decided to shun us. It’s 3am and it’s just about as dark as it can get.

There’s something tender about sharing a room with someone you don’t know. You listen to a stranger’s sounds, and wonder if they don’t snore, or if they are lying awake, thinking. I don’t even know her name, but know she has to be up in an hour to catch a bus to catch a plane – and the upstairs tenant (unseen and unknown) has an alarm clock that starts just about every half hour. I’m wondering if they have a paper to write? Or if they just don’t believe in sleep.

Heather dozed off hours ago. She was tired from exploring the edges of Lake Eerie. She captured glass and stones and found the rotting remains of something long dead. I wonder if she remembered in her dreams – rolling over, making moaning night sounds. She quieted when I put my hand on her cheek.

The world is 100% adventure.

Except for me, because I can’t sleep.


Today Heather took me to Lake Eerie. She had gone out yesterday, while I was crashed on the couch, all a nappin – She had escaped out to the beach and watched the sun set over the water, and the returned in the gloaming, just after I’d regained some semblance of consciousness.

Today we drove out and back before heading back to Pittsburgh (I’m writing from I-80 in Ohio) and picked at shells and stones and the dead things on the beach. We have quite a collection of beautiful things for Amy to build from.

Avoiding waves, searching for the beautiful things.
Avoiding waves, searching for the beautiful things.
Heather on the beach of Lake Eerie, exploring the rocks, wandering the apparent edge of the world. The Great Lakes always amaze me - hard and cold and grey like the ocean.
Heather on the beach of Lake Eerie, exploring the rocks, wandering the apparent edge of the world. The Great Lakes always amaze me – hard and cold and grey like the ocean.
Heather finds a coconut.
Heather finds a coconut.

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