Dear Diary,
Well, it's been 3 months since the shipwreck and still no sign of rescue. What's that blog I read so long ago? If only I could be anywhere but here...
God I'm hungry. If I have to eat tuna sushi one more time I will go crazy. It's enough to turn me into a hunter. That wild turkey is looking mighty mouth-watering right now. What's that old saying? "if you teach a man to fish..." Damn you and your proverbs Nick Moroz!
What I could really go for is one of those Boston Cream donuts from Tim Horton's. I'm so desperate, I would even settle for the strawberry flavour. Well, all I can do is fantasize. At least my French Laundry Cookbook survived the disaster. Let's see: Salad of Globe Artichokes with Garden Herbs and Gazpacho, Roasted Rib Steak with Chanterelles, Pecorino Toscano with Roasted Sweet Peppers and Arugula Coulis, Chocolate Fondant with Coffee Cream, Velouté of Bittersweet Chocolate with Cinnamon-Stick Ice Cream....ah, I can only dream.
I have discovered ways to relieve the tedium of staring into the turquoise water all day long. A useless pocket-full of soggy as-yet-to-be-used Dooly's tickets inspired me to devise a variation on pool which involves coconuts and bamboo. And just for fun I am making up my own language .What I really miss is music. If only could listen to The Clash (London Calling), or Tom Waits (The Early Years) or Bach's Cello suites (Anner Bylsma) or even The Scorpions, the time would pass more quickly. Instead, the other day, a pristine copy of Super-Mega-Dance-Party Hits 2011 washed up on shore. What the---?
Am I hallucinating? Is that a viking ship I see on the horizon? No, too many sails. Now see a dude on board. He's got dreads, he's carrying a sword...it's...no, it couldn't be..yes, it's him, it's really him, it's
Jack Sparrow! Yo ho and a barrel full of rum! I guess someone really did receive my message in a bottle. Jack! Over here! Help, get me off of this island! Teach me how to wield a sword, to outsmart villains and make them walk the plank, to outwit my enemies. Oh, Jack take me on a pirate escapade!
You know, I think I'll miss my little island.
Well, Jack and the Black Pearl beckon. Farewell island, you've taught me so much. Another adventure awaits.
Showing posts with label narrative. Show all posts
Showing posts with label narrative. Show all posts
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Ode to Frost
It's 7 am. I pull on my hat, mittens,scarf, coat and rubber boots and we creep put of the house like stealthy thieves.
The world is white with frost. The air is crisp and sharp in my lungs. I must scrape a thick layer of ice crystals off of my windshield in order to drive away.
We hop in the car, shivering. The first rays of the morning illuminate the traces of frost left on the windows, like diamonds glinting in the new sun.
I turn up the volume as Ray Lamontagne laments in his Tennessee mountain twang. We head for the sea, to the summer house on the Grève D'Amours (love shore? seaside of love?) where the garden, now bereft of its beans, carrots and tomatoes, awaits the winter snow.
I open the car door and the dog leaps out and runs ahead of me toward the sand. Boots crunch, the dog's hot breath condensing in white puffs in the cold air. Aside from the duck family paddling close to shore, my dog companion and I are the only beings here.
We are the only travellers in this universe. The dog runs crazily, delirious with joy. I am enraptured by this moment at this place. Every shell, pebble, grain of sand glitters with frost. Its luminous touch traces the intricate outline of feathers, seagrass and stone in delicate lace. The frost magnifies the intertidal life and I can only stand awestruck, the sole witness to this magical world.
We walk on. I am stunned by the clarity of the water and sand. The frost becomes a lense through which to view the world for the first time. I see green and garnet seaweed like other worldy shapeshifters, waiting for the sun to warm them up before they slither back to the sea. Here and there, pieces of worn emerald seaglass glint through the pebbles and I pocket them, my secret talismans.
We make our way to the end of the shore and we have reached the end of the world. One of my favorite Robert Frost poems creeps into my mind as I recall the lines:
So Eden sank to grief
So dawn goes down to day
Nothing gold can stay.
It's time to go home.
The world is white with frost. The air is crisp and sharp in my lungs. I must scrape a thick layer of ice crystals off of my windshield in order to drive away.
We hop in the car, shivering. The first rays of the morning illuminate the traces of frost left on the windows, like diamonds glinting in the new sun.
I turn up the volume as Ray Lamontagne laments in his Tennessee mountain twang. We head for the sea, to the summer house on the Grève D'Amours (love shore? seaside of love?) where the garden, now bereft of its beans, carrots and tomatoes, awaits the winter snow.
I open the car door and the dog leaps out and runs ahead of me toward the sand. Boots crunch, the dog's hot breath condensing in white puffs in the cold air. Aside from the duck family paddling close to shore, my dog companion and I are the only beings here.
We are the only travellers in this universe. The dog runs crazily, delirious with joy. I am enraptured by this moment at this place. Every shell, pebble, grain of sand glitters with frost. Its luminous touch traces the intricate outline of feathers, seagrass and stone in delicate lace. The frost magnifies the intertidal life and I can only stand awestruck, the sole witness to this magical world.
We walk on. I am stunned by the clarity of the water and sand. The frost becomes a lense through which to view the world for the first time. I see green and garnet seaweed like other worldy shapeshifters, waiting for the sun to warm them up before they slither back to the sea. Here and there, pieces of worn emerald seaglass glint through the pebbles and I pocket them, my secret talismans.
We make our way to the end of the shore and we have reached the end of the world. One of my favorite Robert Frost poems creeps into my mind as I recall the lines:
So Eden sank to grief
So dawn goes down to day
Nothing gold can stay.
It's time to go home.
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