Saturday, October 08, 2005

Episode 6

How long has it been since I've written anything? I can't seem to forget the wonderful town that I would love to call home. Everyone calls it Jonesport. I get ready; food, water, supplies. Then I set sail again, ready to find a new destination. Several days pass and I can no longer stay out at sea. The loneliness creeps upon me, stealing my enthusiasm. I reverse course and end up back in Maine. After a few days out, the sight of the dark leer of land fills my heart with a profound joy. I feel like I know the whole village. Anne keeps me sheltered and fed. I work at her house to help her out. Stephen, half Native American, has become a great friend. Working on his boats gives me perfect satisfaction. Fixing minor problems has never made me feel so happy. Joe buys me drinks at night and we laugh, insulting each other. He knows every soul within a hundred-mile-radius. I can't get in his truck without meeting someone new every time. I must leave here though. I can't stay in one place forever. The fact that I attempt to leave every two or three weeks is evidence of that. Overcoming the heartache of departure will be a major test. It's harder to leave here than it was to leave her. The spirits will give me strength, Stephen has told me. If I don't sacrifice a part of myself, the spirits won't protect me on my journey. The passion he has for such an ancient belief has begun to make me see what he does. I have visions at strange times of the day. I feel powers running through me that I have never felt at any time in my life. I will leave. I will go soon, but I have to say good-bye to those I care for.

Monday, August 29, 2005

(A Parenthetical Documentation)

(I started this site so I could write and hopefully I would change some things. Well, I've changed mostly typographical errors, which isn't really exciting, is it? I don't know how many people visit this site because I don't have a counter on it yet, but I would not mind any suggestions at all. You can tell me this or that, and I could try to incorporate it. I've never done a collaborative effort with anyone on a piece of writing and it could be interesting.)

Friday, August 19, 2005

Episode 5

Jonesport. It's a town. It's not large. It has everything a town could need. The people here in Maine are more honest than those where I set sail from. I could have stopped a little further southwest in a Maine tourist town, but here, people have work to do. They have to make a living. They need to get out on the water. They don't have time to entertain the various people that decide to point their way to the Maine coast. I've met a few fisherman at a little bar near where I anchored. Their stories of distress and adventures make my stupid life look boring in comparison. They have stories of friends that went overboard. They know of boats that capsized and everyone was lost without warning. They've had years when fish overflowed the ships and years when they couldn't find any. They've formed unmalleable bonds with those on the boats. They have the most complete trust in each other that I've never seen anywhere. In my heart, I wish I could trust someone as they trust those they go out to sea with. When I first arrived, I stayed in my boat, but a fisherman's wife invited me to stay at their house. I've been here for almost two weeks, eating some of the best food I've ever eaten. The lobster she makes is brilliant. The finest restaurants could never compete with her. The room is small. The bed: also small. But the fellowship I feel has overflowed my emotions. I'm content and have almost forgotten my former life. I've told the friends I've made here of my plans to try to get to Europe. They don't laugh. They don't tell me I'm a fool. They've given me advice. A few I've talked to have actually gone there, albeit in a gas-powered boat. They know how much food I need. They know how the hours grow long during the trip. But they know it's worth it. The days at sea put inside a person the biggest sense of accomplishment that can be gained by any human. The waves will be calming. The sun will warm by back as the minutes pass and the ocean moves underneath. Soon I will leave this wonderful town. But now, Jonesport is my home, and I can't imagine leaving those I've come to love.

Sunday, July 24, 2005

Episode 4

After putting my boat to sea in the rain, I no longer wish to see my home again. My boat is my home now. Cold at night, hot during the day, but never unfaithful. I must leave that treacherous pit forever. New England seems like a good place in newspapers and stories. Deep underneath, there is a tangle of cold-heartedness and hatred. Below the surface there is a secret world of lies. I can't see the shore through the falling rain. I'm constantly on watch for ships. I would never be seen through the gray veil of constant rain. My small craft would be crushed under the solid steel hull of the ships that pass through the area. Shards of wood would be the only thing left of me were I to lose my focus in this constant pouring of water. The drops hitting my face run down my neck and under my rain slicker. I can't stop. I wouldn't want to stop. The wind is so strong from the south and the air is full of the smell of salt and seaweed. I can seek refuge in the cabin at night, when I anchor near Jonesport. But now, I want to feel the cold summer rain. I want to wash my mind in the cleansing motion of the waves. I gesture, "Hello," at those on board a tanker as I pass alongside. The ship looks as though it's been recently cast off and light, its waterline visible above the surface. As the rain becomes less intense, I can feel that hell slipping behind me forever. That's not to say that I may not reach a new one soon. Where am I going? I couldn't say. I brought all the money remaining in my account. When it's gone, that's it. I do not know if I must return to resume my life in the depths of loneliness. I would rather go down with my boat than face that menace again. But the sea is peaceful today. There are no fun-lovers out for joyrides on the water. I have only my thoughts right now and the idea that I will soon be in a new town, if only for a night or two.

Friday, July 15, 2005

Episode 3

I can see fish swimming below the the crosses and points of light along the surface of the big blue. I wonder what it would be like to be a fish. Constantly moving. Consistently searching for a new meal. Every moment looking everywhere for a shark or larger fish to come past and set in wait for ambush. But, it would be a world free from worries and sadness. A fish eaten gives life to the next in the heirarchy of life. It would be a life that is lived close to others of the same experiences. Except for those dreadful nets. Where do they come from and why are they in the water? I've decided to turn back home to see what I can resurrect from my wasteful life. The time that I've spent out here was theraputic. Each moment, I can feel currents passing below, carrying waters to some undetermined destination. The wind fills my sails, carrying my boat through water that has existed since the dawn of Earth. And yet I feel like I have run away from my world. Premature escape only weakens the heart's ability to become stronger. I don't want to run away, really. Maybe the torture is over. Maybe the hell has finally faded.

Thursday, July 14, 2005

Episode 2

By the light of a small gas lamp, I'm writing tonight. I can't sleep. I find myself staring up at the stars, wishing I still had friends to talk to. I can lay down below and close my eyes, but my thoughts cut through the drowsiness and I am forced awake. I'm regretting so much of my past. But the scent of the ocean seems to be carrying it all away. I thought by now I'd be in complete despair. But there seems to be a strange sort of hope filling my spirit. Could it be the bright moon on a cloudless night? Is it the gentle swelling of the salty waves? I can't really tell right now. The whole world seems beautiful and I can't stop wondering how it all came to be. Still close to shore, I can see tiny points of light where land is. Occassionally, a dot of light will float over the surface of the water, headed toward the open ocean, into the stars. I like to imagine myself on one of those ships, working at sea for a living. I'd come home smelling like fish and rope and salt and grease. While at sea, I'd be longing to see land again. While on land, I'd be craving the rocking of the ocean waves in a thunderstorm. I'd be wishing for another close call. There would be nothing better than the dash of adrenaline that is felt after almost flying over the side of the ship.

Sunday, July 10, 2005

Episode 1

Today, there was hell. I know. It's hard to believe. Hell doesn't even exist, really. But it felt like it. It's not the heat of the summer. It's the distress of life. I forget what I know and just wish that a change would come. I can stare out at the sea, but I know it has no answers. I'm left alone to listen to it whisper in a language I can never learn. Today, I think I have left for good. My boat, "The Dark Undercurrent", is the only place I have to find shelter. I've been out on the sea alone, sailing through the waves, since the dark of the morning. The late afternoon sun casts dark blue shadows on the waves I'm crossing. I can feel the air around me and the sea beneath me. It's the only place I feel at home. It's the only place where the hell cannot reach me. Every cool drop splashed up from the ocean is calming. Each cloud overhead is a comforting blanket of white cotton.

There was one reason for me staying on land. I'll admit that it was a woman. I was so entrapped in my own vision of what I thought my life was going to be. I left my friends. I forgot my family. Just for her. Her betrayal was heartbreaking. After she left for work, I left for good. And now I'm traveling on the sea, with no idea of where I will go from here.