Well, I took those 478 steps yesterday to Wreck. When Mike and I got there, there was an immense fog blowing across Marine Dr. For maybe thirty seconds we debated going down to the beach, as it appeared a breezy and clammy time was to be had, but by three o’clock the fog had moved across the inlet where it formed an amorphous but solid appearing wall, 15 stories high.
There were alcohol and food vendors there and no cops. I got a little singed but the sun wasn’t very fierce. Mike brought his Taylor and I brought Otto, and we sang and played, Dylan and other gods and goddesses. There was a very light breeze and all in all it was very very pleasant.
We took it easy going up the stairs. I concentrated on breathing and body mechanics to ensure that I didn’t strain anything. I got home and because I am no fool I showered and changed before bed; that beach at the end of the season is like a very scratchy petri dish.
Damn, it was nice. I tripped on rhodopsin for a while, experiencing that wonderful progression of colours and geometry that happens when you stare at the sun with your eyes closed for at least ten minutes and then cover your eyes. First, your visual field goes an inky, depthless black. Then purple, a colour so strong and overwhelming that you gasp as it comes on, fills from the centre to the periphery. Then the centre turns a malignant orangey copper, and from that springs a deep magenta, so it looks like a pop art eye. Expanding out from the magenta is that same inky depthless darkness, now almost deep blue, with teal semi circles radiating out from that centre. Very gradually, everything turns a pale silvery green; then brittle diamond shaped lozenges of fiery orange, yellow and red, march up and down your visual field like the very finest mushroom high. Unlike every other time I’ve done this, the colour progression repeated thrice before the last of the visual effects died off (obviously nowhere near as strong, but it was interesting to look at even as attentuated as it was). As always, I feel as strong as Jack the Bear after I do that, and I am much refreshed both mentally and physically.
A week or so ago I listened via NPR to the new Leonard Cohen album, so his voice was still in my head when I was in the shower last night. Michel, one of the characters in the novel, still didn’t have a song, so I was thinking… Michel lived in Montréal for years, maybe a song in the style of Leonard Cohen? Michel is staying in town simply and solely to get his mitts on Kima, so I thought …. (and this is not a song a Sixer would ever write. They do not infantilize lovers; they don’t smile, they don’t wear hats. So this is what happens when pop culture gets through with Michel. In real life, he’d say nothing, sing nothing, present her with nothing except himself.)
I just might stick around, baby
I just might stick around
Normally after a week I see
Nothing new in town
A light is glowing in your eyes
My very breath is bound
I just might stick around, baby
Maybe I’ll stick around
If you didn’t know you were special, baby
If you didn’t know you’re great
I’d hop a freight, jump aboard a freighter
Tip my hat, say see ya later
But no one else has quite your style
Not your figure, nor your smile
Yes there’s something new in town
I just might stick around
