It only took six weeks for my leg hair to grow out. And even though I've been back in California for over a week now I still haven't shaved; I like feeling that I am an animal. Studying poetry has made me more sensitive on every level. I hear more in music now and when I am touching objects they touch me back. Since reading Baudrillard I have been thinking every time I drive about my personal identification with my car, which is so much like a bear; am I like a bear; if I were an animal, would I want to be a bear? I've always perceived myself more like a dolphin.
This year has been really splendid; I've gotten to travel a lot. Utah, and California's coastal spine, and Helsinki and Sweden and Copenhagen and Paris. Next time I go to Finland I will go to the country and spend every morning in the sauna and afternoon in the forest but I loved Helsinki; I loved the flea markets and the berries and the fish. At the Hietaniemi flea market I found an Olivetti Valentine for 25 euro (!!!!) but didn't buy it because I didn't want to carry it around all day. I had two picnics in abrupt downpours. I learned how to say excuse me and I said it to everybody because I felt bad that I couldn't say anything else.
It was storming like crazy in Sweden, too; when I got to Gothenburg lightning was striking and the mall flooded. A couple days later there was even a tornado. But the days at the beach were perfect and beautiful, the dream Swedish summer, nights that stay light and don't get cold. I swam more in the ocean in four weeks in the North than all year in California. Man får passa på. I didn't see any jellyfish this year.
I got the sunniest week of the year in Copenhagen and I swam there too, at Islands Brygge in the harbor. It was cold, like jumping in the ocean in Santa Cruz in April. I got the other sunniest week of the year in Paris, which I didn't even actually want to go to. I mean of course I wanted to go to Paris, I have been wanting to go there forever, and way more after reading Stein and Rimbaud and Bachelard, but by the time it was time to go, I was not wanting to be in a city, I had just been in three cities, and really Copenhagen was great this time, because I don't live there anymore, and I just get to do all the fun things and leave, but I was wanting to go slow; I like moving, but I like moving slowly. But yes above all else I like being in motion, so on the flight to Paris I just thought of the trajectory I was drawing, and then I was there, and there was this language I know nothing of and cheap wine by the glass and a park or a square on every other corner and cheese to die for, and all movement and flux, and everywhere something astonishing to look at.