I'm not going to spend too much time talking about the rain yesterday -- the first day of our vacation on Fire Island -- other than to say that it was constant, much the way it's been during most of the month in New York City. Whatever! We made it to our rental house, dropped off our luggage, went shopping (did I mention that it was pouring throughout this process?), and were finally back at our house, which was very charming (even in the rain!), with a beautiful courtyard garden not completely unlike that which we had left behind in Washington Heights. We felt very much at home! But just when we were finally 'chilling hard' (via beer and Wifi), we were interrupted by the arrival of some1 else and his six closest friends, who were under the distinct impression that they had rented the same charming cottage for the same week that we had. Needless to say, we all felt as if we were in a movie. But after a series of phone-calls and negotiations between the owners and the realtors, we agreed to be 'relocated' to a different house.
This was not such an imposition! So yeah, it was a 'lil porn-settish' (via the 'conversation pit'), but -- besides having ridiculous amounts of square footage -- it offered several distinct advantages over our first house:
A pewl!
Ocean views!
Bay views!
This morning we went for a walk and admired the Scottish brooms, which -- oddly enough, since this passed about a month ago in our garden -- were in heavy bloom. I regretted that our variety does not have this brilliant orange tone, but a more bland mix of yellow and burgundy.
This was my first time to The Pines, and 2 say there's something 'magical' about it probably does and doesn't quite do it justice. There are obv no cars, a demonstrated comfort with bamboo (and alpines of every variety) and virtually no str8 ppl (except for maybe the construction workers?). I understood what Stephen meant when he made the analogy between going 2 Israel for the first time as a Jew and coming to the Pines for the first time as a geigh. Even tho it's a 'ghetto,' it's a huge relief not 2 feel like ur 'dealing with a bunch of macho assholes' like we usually do 24/7 in Washington Heights (via 'Caribbean culture'). There are no children/lifeguards/surf-fishers or n e thing else u typically associate with str8 beaches everywhere else. It's a place where u can genuinely feel sorry 4 str8 ppl, because it feels s000 far beyond n e thing they would be capable of conceiving.
The landscaping reflects a very refined aesthetic.
As does the garbage.
As does the beach graffiti. ('<3 u, Schopenhauer')
The weather finally cleared this afternoon and we walked on the beach. I remembered being a child, when I used 2 pretend to be 'an elf' whenever I walked on the sand, leaving no footprints. This reflected an unconscious desire -- at least at the time -- 2 escape what I already knew was my fate, i.e., '2 not follow in the footsteps of my parents.'
As Walter Benjamin (pictured above) said: "We Have To Wake Up from the Existence of Our Parents—In This Awakening, We Have To Give an Account of the Nearness of That Existence."
We could be 'happy here' 4 a while.
We r 2 birdz, flying away from 'the city.'
Quel serendipity!
I miss Fire Island. It's unique in the world.
This post is in my top-ten faves, in the year i've been following you. There the two of you are, revealed at last...
Glad you could escape. Hope the weather improves...
Posted by: cfl | 06/20/2009 at 02:28 AM