What's Been Cast Off This Week |
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Mother nature's daughterI miss the days when everyone poured out their heart on epistolary MySpace blogs. I also miss the Reagan administration, for different reasons, so that should come as no surprise.Now we live in a world of instant Instagram selfies, and I am nostalgic for the web log of yesteryear, the Livepad courier-font blogs, where we were allotted more than 140 characters to Today I continue to struggle with the inadequacy of everything I have to say. On the other hand I continue to SAY it. It’s the human impulse, to spurt out our innermost selves, to have them validated by the other, even a fictional other that may or may not exist. You, dear reader.Paul Simon sang: “Sometimes even music cannot substitute for tears.”Bob Dylan sang, angry:“Who killed Davey My baby nephew Stephen Andrew Henry died seven weeks ago today, after ten weeks of life. I have been fighting the urge to use words to reconcile myself to his death because his death is irreconcilable. Writing about it feels futile, as does everything else. Words are become powerless.“It’s all one,” said Keats. “We keep on breathing.” Or we don’t. Keats didn’t, at 26.My nephew didn’t, at Wednesday 24 June 20154.1 milesToday I hiked past the Lemon Squeezer, which, if I'm honest, is the whole reason I decided to hike this section. In 2004, this was the first white blaze that I blue-blazed, thus, in my mind, invalidating my entire thru-hike. Not really, but kind of. When Big County and I came to this section, northbound, I couldn't get up the rock face. I took as many pictures 9.1 miles23 June 2015My last day on the trail. Today was excruciating—my knees and feet and shoulders are in pain—and I'm feeling fatigued and I had chills all day and I'm worried about Lyme even though I haven't found a bulls-eye rash or a deer tick on me since Connecticut. I'm at the shelter tonight with two flippers, two Gamers, and the first south-bounder I've met, Trek. Figures we'd meet |
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