...after a two-day jaunt of 500-plus miles. We stayed at S.'s (that would be the girlfriend of Photographer D.) house up the coast and, since she found the papers she needed almost instantly, we spent a leisurely afternoon touristing around and came back today.
PARENTHETICAL LEST-YE-MISUNDERSTAND THOUGHT: Her house has a guest room. I stayed in it. I don't do that steal-from-a-friend crap.
In some respects it was quite nice. We hit a BBQ place ("Alex Bar-Be-Que, since 1942" and had a dynamite dinner. After that, she led me around to some places I hadn't seen in something like 35 years.
That was a downer, man. Little coastal towns that used to be sleepy as can be are now "re-imagined" (a word Architectural Digest sprinkles around like confetti) into yuppie havens. The housing boom has turned miles of open agricultural fields into cesspools of jammed-together tract houses.
That's a way of letting you know there were no photos taken. Next time I'm up there, I'll shoot some interesting stuff, and provide a detailed commentary with the shots, but every time I pulled out the ol' digi yesterday and today, I felt tired and unenthusiastic.
It was still somewhat relaxing, at least at times.
But there were some moments along the way -- which had to do only with the severely damaged state of my mind and nothing to do with S., who worked hard to be a good host -- that left me at my doorstep this afternoon as confused and miserable as ever.
I was not looking for that, believe me. But the depth of certain frustrations, certain unfortunate turnabouts in my personal life and a simple-but-overwhelming feeling that events have spiraled so far out of control that I can't manage to grab hold of anything, continues to surprise me.
It also continues to surprise me that I can hide all this turmoil so well from people who know me.
On this whole planet, two people might have the perception and understanding of me to nut it out. I will never see either one again, alas, at least not at close enough range for them to pick up the vibes.
Need I mention the empty mailbox that greeted me this afternoon?
Faugh. If this is what "vacations" are like, spare me.
At least the trip in March seems certain be fun. No time for ghosts or demons during that one.
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