I’ve been working for days on a post about Cuttyhunkian matters to the East, and the darn thing won’t finish, it keeps taking me to places I didn’t think it was going, and so it’s not done. I’m just going with the flow now, and will peck away at it until it seems done. I hated writing when in school. I had this silly notion that when you made a sentence or a paragraph, that it was supposed to come out “done”. I couldn’t do that, which made me angry and frustrated. Nobody bothered to tell me that writing isn’t one-shot magic. Getting what you write right takes time, thought, and more time. You’re not allowed that kind of time in school, maybe that’s what made having to write while in school be such torture.
Nobody ever bothered to tell me that Flaubert took ten years to write “Madame Bovary”, or that Melville took years (I can’t remember how many) to write Moby Dick. Now that I don’t have deadlines, writing anything is much more enjoyable.
Well, if I can’t finish the East, I’ll detour to the West.
With minimal comment, just a few detours?
To go West, you can take a big road.
Or a small road.
Or a trail, a path, or the shore, and head towards where the sun sets.
The view is pretty good, from Joe’s Bunker.
Nice, when clouds start to break up, when sun glints from sea.
And there, then, in the distance, are ponds.
That was the first day’s visit.
The second day’s approach to the West was from lower ground, under clearer skies.
Where we are, right here, in this photo is as far as we got on this trip.
We had to turn around, to make the noon boat back to the Mainland.
Maybe we’ll be back, some day.
For a closer look.