salt water collides with salty tears and then wipes them dry. or maybe then they just become one. and then you are the ocean.

if i could be a fish, i would be.

a while ago, one of my favorite people [who is currently a wee bit farther away than i’d like …. and without phone or internet, which i like even less …. especially now …. COME BACK …. okay. a few more days …. i can deal ….. ] told me:

“i thought you’d moved.”

i asked why.

[because i hadn’t moved. at all.]

response:

“because you’re always on a beach somewhere.”

and it’s true.

sort of.

well, not really.

i mean at least during the summer months, i spend as much time at the beach as humanly and as inhumanly possible.

if i can be on a beach . . . i can be happy.

[well, really, i can actually be happy anywhere. the beach just amps this up a few.]

so some time spent amidst the salty seas and currents that ran so furiously that we had to abort our initial planned mission and settle for the “megadock” [mega could be a new favorite word. use it in a sentence. twice. and then tell me you don’t feel empowered.] and i found a little restoration.

except for the fact that i slept zero. which is weird, but not. and it reshaped the meaning of “vacay” into something more like “fake it ‘til you make it.”

faking it.

making it.

what else would you like to know?