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August 27, 2003

Little Beach

"Bees makes honey. Bees make ... honey.
Well ...
Do earwigs make chutney?
Do spiders make gravy?"


I spent today driving around with my friend Donnie, doing chores. He had to get his license back, which meant going to the insurance company, getting lost, standing around, and eventually the dreaded trip to the DMV. There was many a line to wait in, many an inept government official to hold things up, it was hot, and it was sticky. Our hopes of a post DMV surf break were quickly dashed as one hour turned to two, then three, and the sun began to sink out of the sky. Although the company was pleasant, I caught myself frowning and pouting like a petulant child, furrowing my brow and tapping my feet impatiently as I waited for my friend. By the time our days missions were complete (at least a success) I knew it was time to take him home so he could get to work.
We pull up at his house, my goodbyes are all prepared, and then he throws me a curve:
"We can jump into the ocean and go swimming for half an hour, if you want."

Well, really now ... Did I really want to suit up, sand up, and tangle up my blonde curls with salt and kelp for only half an hours foot-numbing waterplay? Yes, I did.

We changed fast and walked a short four blocks to the secret swimming hole. I had heard it affectionately referred to as "Little Beach". When we walked down to it, I understood why. In the center was a huge rock that stretched from the sand out into the surf. On either side of the rock lay two perfectly identical little beaches, each about the size of a small restaurant. There were people scattered around the intimate little beach with beers and boom-boxes, a couple of people up on various rocks, and a handful in the water. It was so small and inviting, that I was instantly charmed. We dropped our towels and ran in.

The waves at this cove beach were deep and broke around the rock. They were big and strong, moving us effortlessly in their swells. We swam out and rolled in them like teenage sea otters. The waves seemed thick, and even though they were big they seemed almost surreal and slow. For thirty minutes we swam around in the tide, my feet not once touching the bottom (mostly out of fear of disturbing a sleeping sting ray). When our time was up, the waves easily whisked us back into the shallows. I was breathing hard as I walked up to the dry sand. We toweled off and walked the four blocks back. Done. Our day had just been made worthwhile.

To make it even nicer, I got to go home where all my roommates were feverishly cooking up an Italian feast. We ate outside in the backyard, (on our newly refinished picnic table, thanks to Ash and Beej) and drank some good wine as Frank Sinatra sang to us through the window. A little chocolate cake, some Queer Eye for the Straight Guy to get the guys in touch with their stylish feminine sides, and we said our goodnights.

It was an unexpectedly lovely day, and all it took to turn it around was a little beach.

Posted by kati at 12:30 AM

August 24, 2003

Salt and Glitter

Today I carried a long fiberglass board down a treacherous dirt path, my black flipflops hot from the sun above me and the dark sand below. I brought nothing with me but the board and my shoes, and before the sand could burn my bare feet they were cooling in the shallow waves. As I cleared the first small breaks, the board gliding effortlessly over the whitewater, tingles of excitement mixed with the chill of the ocean to shorten my breath. For the first time ever, I was paddling out into the salt as a surfer.

When I paddled back in, a solid 4 hours later, my fingertips were wrinkled, my skin was red, my eyes were swollen and my throat was dry and raw. Though I could do little more than wipe my nose and spit into the sand, I felt good.

Learning to surf actually means wiping out as many times as you possibly can, in an attempt to scramble up onto a moving platform. For my first day, I took in several gallons of saltwater through the nose, tumbling end over end and bouncing of the ocean's sandy bottom as I unsuccessfully kick towards the surface. I got stuck in kelp, stubbed my toes on rocks, and got blasted by unseen breakers. Worst of all, I got nailed in the head three times by my own surfboard as it whipped by me in the water. Man, that *really* hurts.

But I did catch some waves.. on my knees, on my stomach, on my ass, and (for a split-second at a time) on my feet. Most of my time was spent paddling like hell against the waves to get back out to the spot where I could ride them in. The rides were fast and crazy, and I squeaked with mixed delight and fear before I tumbled off into the foam.

So, now I am officially a surfer. A horrible one, granted, but a surfer nonetheless. I no longer need to be classified as a non-surfer, and today I have the bruises, welts, and quivering limbs to back it up. yeeha.

End of day: Run home from beach, shower, scarf down frozen spaghetti, head off to the theatre. Ashley, myself, and the Best Friend caught a 9pm performance of Hedwig and the Angry Inch - the live show. It was ridiculously good, and a phenomenal display of vocal athleticism. Plus, ain't nothing wrong with beautiful, talented boys with accents in beautiful, sparkly makeup. I like this. Yes I do.

So now I'm home again in San Diego. My home, where I now live. My arms and legs are still shaking pretty hard from the activity of the day. I can feel sleep heavy on my head, clouds rolling in behind my eyes. Inside, where it doesn't take any energy, I am a bit excited at the possibility of crashing out for a full night of sleep. If I am successful here, I will have Her Majesty the Ocean to thank. Perhaps I will dream of the glittery British boy that's out there for me ... somewhere.

Posted by kati at 12:23 AM

August 22, 2003

I'm the new Berlin Wall, baby

I've been indulging my solo self these last few days. It doesn't even seem like I've been in my new place for over a week now. Even though I've done a lot of socializing, with my roommates mostly, I have been venturing out into the world alone a bit. Driving around, going to movies on my own, sitting on the beach. It's been pretty good. There are moments when I pine for home and all the people there, times when I can feel it tangibly, like an ache that I can't rub away. There's not much I can do in those moments, except pour myself a little whiskey and retreat to the solitude of my bed. It's hard to accept that life is continuing - as it inevitably does - without me there, and that I am now meant to forage for my own life down here. Having lots of time on my hands doesn't help much. My attempts to gain employment at local San Diego theatres seek to remedy that particular situation. I am going to keep my fingers crossed for another week.

I've been unable to post since I moved, perhaps because I was overly-stimulated, or maybe not stimulated enough, though I doubt that the latter is the case. Although this one's short, I can hope it's just the opening act.

Posted by kati at 12:38 AM

August 08, 2003

No riding the bikes drunk, and no playing with the guns...

The other night I shared a bed with some spiders. I didn't really mind them, and I tried to be polite, but I think the abundance of red welts on my feet and legs would suggest that they were not thrilled with my presence. Oh well. You can't please all the spiders all the time, and that night all the spiders were in my bed.

I should be sleeping now. I've certainly consumed enough chemical aids to ensure that I be slumbering peacefully at this hour. But I am very much not asleep. So, what the hell is going on? I honestly couldn't tell you why sitting in my bed and absently picking at my nails is a more exciting prospect than sleeping is. If there happen to be some spiders in my bed here at home, then those lucky bastards have that bed all to themselves at present.

On an unrelated note, I've noticed that lately the state of my bedroom has been mirroring the state of my life. There seems to have been an explosion of some kind, where everything I know and own has been belched up from the depths onto my floor, my bed, my dresser. In order to restore some kind of order to this chaos, I must sort through it all and either box it up or throw it out. As much as I seem to do each day, the quantity of crap everywhere appears undiminished.
So it seems to be in all aspects of my recent days. Along with the boxing up of my worthless material goods, I feel as though I am endeavoring to box up my relationships, too. The time that I spend with people I love in these last/next days is most likely the last time I'll see them before I move, and potentially the last time in a long time. It was hard to leave Tardball on Wednesday night, with the sinking feeling that it would go on next week without me, and knowing I would probably not get to see most of the participants before then. Or after, really. I've been meeting lots of people for coffees, lunches, etc. for a chance to see them, and be reminded of how I'll miss them, once more before I go. But sometimes it seems like such a formality. A pre-boxing ritual where I can make sure I know that I can pack what is there:

"Yeah yeah, leaving in just a couple of days. Pretty nervous. Oh, thanks! Yes, please come and visit, I'll miss you. *kisses* You take care, ok?" ...and into the box they go.

Some people and relationships who have been unearthed in this explosion of my life go into the trash bag. Like my old clothes and knick-knacks, I could potentially revive, keep, and love this relationship if I only had the time and the energy. Mostly the time. But, since I don't, I simply give it up, consciously choosing to lose contact or remain that way, and know it will soon be forgotten like my dusty notebooks and dolls. It makes me want to throw up, a little.

I can't know what will happen to this metaphorical box of people once I actually am gone. I can hope, at least, that it won't sit unopened for too long. If that happens, I know that my fears of other people will make it really hard to get back in touch. I know that there are some people I won't lose (I hope), but I do know that I am going to lose people, many people, from my life as a result of my vacating the area. Sadly, I don't feel quite ready to do that.

Part of me wants to just give in to this fear that I have - that everyone I know up here will disappear from my life, and I will have to start without them. Part of me wants to just believe that right away, so that I can't be shocked or hurt by it, if it does happen. I'm so ridiculously attached to so many people that I can't imagine what I'll do without them. I'm a bit pissed off at myself for being so attached, and feel like if I don't change my evil ways I will never be able to move anywhere or accomplish anything.

With that said, I can crawl back into bed, with my potential arachnid guests, and bemoan my sleeplessness to them. I am confident, at least, that I can know and understand what I am feeling right now. I don't like it at all, but at least I feel like I know what is in my head, for once.

The bitter taste in the back of my throat won't go away. I've tried everything.

Posted by kati at 01:05 AM

August 04, 2003

The horror ... of Seabrisket

Featuring commentary by Abusta Goon Cawaway, and Troxie:


See bis kit.

Wait! No! DON'T See biskit!

Read the book.

Run! (Run for your life!)

Sponsered by: Anheiser Busch, Marlboro, American Oil, The Automotive Industry, Darwinism, The Gap, and Depression Era Disney...

Featuring special appearances by: Cracked out Yoda, Uncle Tom, the pretty young housewife, and bad Mr. Ed.

Run biskit RUN! Do the crane!

(it's all in the heart!)

"Normal people"!?

Please take our advice and save yourself from Seabiscuit, or rather SeabRiscuit

Posted by kati at 12:38 AM

August 02, 2003

Wavy Pavement

It is far too warm a day today to be as cold as I have been. All day, my surroundings have been conspiring to confuse me.

I had this overwhelming urge to scream today. Not out of anger or frustration, really. More of a steadily growing desire for a ridiculously ear-shattering primal scream. I wanted to scream like hell in the SUV-ridden parking lot that I was in this morning. I wanted to scream in Long's while picking up photos and deodorant. I wanted to throw my flip-flops at a passing couple just to startle them. I wanted to stick my tongue out at people. I wanted to make noises. Freak people out.

Instead of that, though, I carried out my ordinary errands in non-committal silence. Sure showed those fuckers.

Ben Folds has been soundtracking my last couple of days. I have been boxing things up and sorting through 7 years of photos. It's been very nice to have him around.

Today's fortune cookie: "You will spend old age in comfort and material wealth."
So, that's great then. That's good to know. I won't worry.

Posted by kati at 05:18 PM