boat, plane.

Gosh, I was watching the water. I watched the water from the bow of a sailboat while my aunt Lora took my Lizzy to get an MRI.

Lizzy's in the hospital now, getting a series of tests. And I'm on a plane out to Seattle to see her. Mom is on another plane, right now, in the same sky. Our planes are probably within miles of each other, up here in the ether–and we can't talk together.

Man. Worlds earlier, I was sailing, swathing my knees with sunscreen.

I took a cab to the marina this morning to be there by 10. $40, and that was a cheap cab from Evanston to Hyde Park. I could have gone another time, saved the money and avoided the hurry. But I had to go sailing. I needed water. My head had been pounding since I woke, and I didn't know why. I don't get headaches.

Now, I think I know why.

We launched the Vivace, and I spent most of our two-hour sail on the bow, or sprawled on the front body of the boat, under the sail. Propped up on the metal rails of the bow, I dangled my feet off. I watched the sun-rippled water of Lake Michigan glide below my toes. I watched the Chicago skyline bobbing away across the water. I thought about the dull pain in my head that wouldn't go away.

When we'd parked the boat, mom said Lizzy's condition had taken a sudden turn. My head pounded hard. They didn't know what happened. Mom planned to get on the next available plane. I'm going, too.

I can think of nowhere else to be.

this story.

i shouldn't be awake right now.

but i am, and thinking of everything but my meditative white room: the chalkboards i have to paint, the work i won't get to before heading into chicago for a regional conference tomorrow. what comfortable, cool and work-approved non-tank shirt i should try and paste on my exhausted frame when i wake up. why this sleep tank top fits way too loosely?! sheesh.

but what is probably the real reason i'm awake: just before i turned off my bedside lamp earlier, a moth sprung from a corner of my room. i jumped, and turned to find its huge shadow bounce across the wall opposite the lamp. while i thought of how to swish the large creature out of the room, the moth made a line straight for the exposed work-table lamp bulb - and then got caught between the bulb and the inner wall of the lamp! there was sizzling right away. forgetting myself, i jerked over, turned off the lamp and tried to knock the moth out of captivity -

but alas.

with the light off, the sound of the moth's final movements were painfully dramatic. all i could do was take a deep breath. i left the light off, unable to draw the moth's grave yet. but my mind kept twitching.

and.

and it probably doesn't help that, earlier, i experienced a strange state. it went this way: i've been eating plant-based since january–no meat, maybe drops of dairy. no eggs. but recently, i've had two occasions to try working back in some fish. last week, the first occasion, i ordered a seared tuna sandwich at the three floyds brewery in muenster, indiana. well-flavored and delicious, if a bit strange after six months with a fish-bereft palate, the tuna found me well.

so today, willfully ignorant of the specifics of what happens to raw tuna after four days, i chose to eat the second half of the sandwich as a late lunch. at my computer about an hour later, i looked up, face twisted, at a coworker who'd offered a pleasantry. our ensuing interaction went something like this:

coworker - (simple question) 'hey leah, how are you?'
me - (truthful and awkward) 'actually, i've just started feeling a little strange. like my face has just flooded with heat. it's come on just now, suddenly!'
coworker - (attempting to keep it light) 'oh-oh, sounds like you got a little too much sun!'
me - (truthful. awkward.) 'hmm, that's not it. in fact, i feel a little delirious. i have this headache coming on, too. is my face red? this is really very strange.'
coworker - (abort!) 'well, you're a bit red, but i'm sure it'll pass. stay out of that sun. you have a good one, leah.' [backing away]
me - (truthful, unecessary) 'uh huh, thanks - you, too. i dunno though, i wasn't in the sun that long today. i have to check this out! my face feels hot to the touch! this is crazy, no?!'
- crickets -

i found a mirror. sure enough, my face had turned a bright reddish-pink. my neck and shoulders were the same color. my head and ears felt like they were being repeatedly smacked with a sharp penetrating force, like you feel when running on a windy day. my cheeks and forehead were boiling. i'm sure my temperature would have read 105 degrees.

luckily, i'd reached the end of the work day. after a quick call to a triage nurse, i determined i was best on my own. i biked the few blocks home safely, spiraled up my back steps and gulped five cups of water before i knew it.

i'm not sure what all that was. was it the raw tuna? it tasted fine. was it my recent vegan system reacting? i'd eaten the same thing last week!

anyway. a few hours later, i'd completely recovered, and found myself in the most lucid state i've reached in a while. i've been in that state all afternoon and night, until now.

i'm going to sleep.

ideas, many thought on the train

- check it out, clark street. it's like chicago picked up your string and threaded you through all these 'hoods that don't match, but don't clash either. like a third grade teacher's necklace.

- keep it up, persimmon sunset.

- L-train rides are made of patterns.

- paint, so often paint on the fingertips. and a tip of a song in the ear.

- steampunk, snowflakes, slim. berry blue. pulled string, it's true. we'd melt, you think so too.

- swimming in a sweatshirt, having jumped to conclusions.

- honey and boat rust and breezy warm shade; unfamiliar dirt, ambling rhythm, cinnamon-wry air - me breathing, you there.

upward, this way, sure
train passed but we have all night
to get where we go

made vegan puppy chow. also roasted a batch of tea. proceeded to compost the song that could lead to universal peace, then made a paper plane out of it and flew it away. then reinvented the wheel. what's next?

february

there's this warming inside
and it pushes up breaths
and they come out in grins, or at good parts in songs.

and it seems so perpetual and easy and real, all while i sit here and write.

Doable, yes.

This is a brain-drain.


Some Leah-centric observations:

I recently suggested to a receptive someone that 'Bourbon Trail' would be a good name for a racehorse. I'm not sure whether I support horse racing, or whether that's even worth thinking about. I've never been to that particular stretch of Kentucky highway.

Where I live, blocks from Lake Michigan just north of Chicago, the summer sky is to the west is frequently worthy of gazing at around 6:30pm. I stop (myself or my bike) and watch it nearly every day for minutes. That's not long enough.

Designing covers for great books is now on my list of future work possibilities.

This week, my dad suggested I sign up with a local Mensa chapter so that I might have like-minded people with whom I might discuss any number of subjects. [Thanks, dad.]

I have a day off tomorrow, and thinking of large gobs of free time gets me inspired and intimidated. If you're like me, you're more taskable when you have more tasks. With fewer, you might end up drinking iced tea and reading a good book for hours, or just answering emails you've put off for weeks. Your list, big or small, sprawls out to fill whatever amount of time you have.

In any case, here are a few of the activities I've been wanting to do. [Until now, these have been collecting, quiet and unheeded, at my mind's nebular perimeter]:
- Buy fabric, cut and sew a skirt to rival other A-lines in comfort and kitsch.
- Write the first chapter of an intriguing surreal novel.
- Create a recipe for vegan avocado cake.
- Experiment with bean sprouting
- Find a way to sit on a very high skyscraper construction beam.
- Purchase a larger bed.
- Finish one of the three books stacked on my nightstand. [The Old Man and the Sea, The Wind-up Bird Chronicle, Kitchen Confidential]
- Investigate digital SLRs. It's time.
- Give away another round of unnecessary stuff. The age of paring continues.

Yes, a good list makes things more doable.


Happy weekend!

new You

why not bring in folks
who are strong enough to boost
good enough to try?