Day 2:
Swap meet. Old junk smashed together into a mammoth parking lot sold for a couple bucks here and there. Nothing special. I meet a guy selling 12-string guitars who runs a yoga retreat center in east san diego somewhere. Then there’s the guy who has wood carvings from some island i can’t remember. They’re very beautiful and one day i’d like to own similar things.
(---I’m currently writing and recalling in an airport, heading to seattle to see a friend and a new city. A woman just asked me for the time. I said it wasn’t mine to give--)
The day reminded me of dragging a heavy rug across the floor. But it left its marks and things were raw. A museum exhibit with egg carton chairs and a lounge room with lots of information. Main inspirations came from books with Tijuana-San Diego border discussion/art. One: “Erre.” The four of us separating and then moving between and around each other. Good interactions overall – basketball giving shani and Ally space to interact and discuss things, Ben and i shooting the ball around like madmen, with Kaya.
The night brought tapas for dinner and two of us ate voraciously discussing possible paths of the future, notions of comfort and the relationship to life's bizarre conditioning. What you know and what you’re accustomed to. and then a life in a hut on an island near a beach with a spear and a stomach and a longing and no car or internet. But maybe some love. And eventually death.
then crafts. Which fell from our highs. Decoupage with lighters and laptops. Sitting silent with others enjoying good music and focusing on simple tasks, drawing out great enjoyment and soothing one’s mind and body.
up til morning again. talks with the night and another body, same happening in the room next door with the other two.
shared solitudes, together.
marvel
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