Saturday, January 19, 2013

Ferry AK->WA :: Wednesday Afternoon :: Feet & Ketchikan

Wednesday :: 14:02

Feet away from my cozy cove on the boat is the door to the outside deck. I pulled on my windbreaker and shoved my thin hat into my coat pocket. With bare-feet, I began to walk around the boat, up and down ladders.

Finally I reached the bow and the fierce Alaskan winds shoved me in a breathtakenly refreshing way. I took a bit deep breath and just stood there, as the wind attempted to beckon me left and right. I allowed my hair to ungloriously whip around into unattractive mangles, spreading across my face and then plastering itself straight back. Some people can pull off the wind-swept hair -- not me. It's amusing.

As I turned to the back of the boat and started walking, I felt an ungracious force prod me onwards and it took me a moment to realize it was just the wind.

Thoughts flickered [edit: WHY DID I USE THE WORD FLICKERED? THAT'S STUPID! The words are always swirling in my head, not flickering. They stick around like getting your toes stuck in muck..] in my head, words I wanted to document. And I began thinking about how much I wrote. I write.. a lot. Sometimes for hours a day. Does that make me a writer? I didn’t think so. Despite my verbosity, I still hold to the idea that I am merely a documenter. I turn intangible ideas into something digestible by others and that I can re-live through years later.

I tell myself to close the laptop and go live and experience. Then I realize I’m on a boat and I don’t have to. I can ignore that voice. I can live tomorrow. Today, I can sit and be lazy and antisocial, looking forward to the sweet potato I get to have for dinner.

Can I become a hermit?
I think I would be good at it.
A 60% hermit.

40% of the time I would gather stories and the rest of the time I would curl up in my Hobbit Hole and laugh at my toes.
Feels like junior high taking pictures of my feeet - but I really, really think feet are neat. Not like a fetish. I just think they're swell and wonderful a bit more than usual...

Wednesday :: 16:32

The ferry is about to depart from Ketchikan where I got to see a friend I’ve known for over a decade. Tricia. We were only in port for about an hour; enough time to run to Safeway where I could get carrots, a pear, and rice ‘n’ beans in a tortilla (they call it a burrito). It felt weird to see someone from “home” in Alaska, the new “home.” She came here before me and I never thought that we would collide up here - twice, in fact. The pictures I posted are of my first visit.

As I sit in my corner, I am deliberately avoiding any contact with humans - but it’s hard. At the microwave, a Texan caught me in a conversation, even after I said, “I gotta go...” he kept talking. The Cuban always tries to engage in conversation and I think I am always trying to end it. I’m not in a human mood. I want to just be by myself and not talk to anyone except for Brekken and his family (I just learned that his dad lived in Switzerland to - he saw my Migros shopping bag I use to get stuff around) and baby girl who got off in Ketchikan.

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