near wild heaven

This is now, this is here, this is me, this is what I wanted you to see.

Hello, week three at SIG. Actually my final week does not officially begin for another hour, when my 24-hour rest period comes to a close. I managed to sleep until 11am today, but I am not well-rested because I was up until 4:30 last night (this morning?), and I drank too much PBR, so I've also got a headache.

Friday was the dance for the senior campers. It smelled decidedly like teen spirit...all those bodies, transfiguring from flat skinny kid bodies into man and woman bodies...sometimes, as I watched, I thought I could see their bodies evolving, at such a high rate of speed that my slower eyes could barely notice their furious, adolescent calculations. I never enjoyed dances when I was kid. They seemed contrived. But I was most interested in the behavior of the counselors, who range in age from 19 to 23. I am much older than all of them--at least six years.  And as I watched them, I also thought about being that age, too. Those were good years for me, in some ways essential, but I'm glad I'm not there, either.

I'm sure I'll be more coherent on Saturday, when I can leave Oberlin and drive to Columbus, to my sister's birthday party. It'll be nice to be among so many adults again.

posted by: zithereen at July 10, 2005 17:14 | link | comments |

Sometimes I think to myself: look at your writing. Look at what you do with your day. Then, after saying that, I say to myself: You are an old man. And I begin to devise ways in which I could act my own age. For example, I could create another blog, under another name. This blog will not be so stodgy as this one has become. Perhaps I can share the sordid particulars of my many sexual exploits (current and former sex parters, any thoughts?). Perhaps I can make up sordid particulars when mine are not quite sordid enough.

What else can I do for fun?

What should my alias be? I'm taking suggestions.   

posted by: zithereen at July 07, 2005 14:43 | link | comments (1) |

Notes from camp:

Asperger's boy went home. Couldn't handle it. This camp isn't suited to a boy with his considerable needs.

Max the Missing isn't missing any more. He tends to behave.

Went to an amusement park yesterday and sat in the shade, except for a few minutes, and managed to get a burn. Then, last night, I went to a bar with my red nose and ruddy cheeks and looked for all the world like a stinking wino. Did this prevent me from drinking? No. The bartendress gave me a free PBR, which (I believe) means that I have earned her favor.  

Today I found a wooden bench underneath a big oak tree. I removed my shoes and socks, used my backpack as a pillow, and looked at the undersides of the leaves, to the pale green and the yellow veins. The summer breeze between my toes. And rest.

posted by: zithereen at July 03, 2005 18:33 | link | comments (1) |