After checking up on my blog roll today, one particular update about Hudson Valley vacations struck my fancy as I came across this delightful little getaway:
I am obschmessed. And look at that kitchen you can cook in! I might just have to fish in the morning off a tiny little schooner and then cook myself up the fishy deliciousness that I caught!
My imagination seriously did a 10K this afternoon. At one point, I forgot I was alive even. I was just staring off into the corner, maybe not even breathing? Breathing lightly? What the hell was I dreaming about, you ask? Oh, so many things. Trips. Futures. Camping on an island in Lake George. Riding a horse to a winery in the Adirondacks. My stunning bearded boyfriend that doesn't exist yet . . . which brings me to my next point.
Sexy Lighthouse Keepers
While doing thorough research on this lighthouse vacation I can't afford, I also came across a biography of their current lighthouse keeper. He seems like a dashing young man. According to the website, we work the same hours (8AM-4PM). Just another thing I'm sure I would have in common with him. That, and the fact that he is "accustomed to living in remote locations and working in minimal conditions." I think the dangerous island of Manhattan that I inhabit is very . . . remote. And I often work without wearing any underwear . . . so that is very minimalistic. Again, tons in common. But in all seriousness though, here is the kicker. According to his bio, Patrick (a name that writhes in sexual pleasure, historically speaking), enjoys cooking AND baking. Well, there you have it. Soulmate. Done.
So, while I drooled over bearded lighthouse boyman (manboy?), I happened to notice that the keeper keeps a daily log. Which is like a blog, but much more . . . lighthousey! Naturally, I read 2010 and 2009's entries. It was very informational. Who knew you could ice sail?! But the best part I found was an entry written by Patrick himself, a modern poet, if you will. According to him, it is maritime services tradition to write a rhyming entry for the logbook at midnight on New Year's Eve. And so he did, quite eloquently I might add:
The tide table tells me what this cloudy sky will not:
full moon overhead on New Year’s Eve.
The wind is not talking either,
mute like these clouds that refuse to leave,
but the river speaks of the moon,
shore ice cracking with the the tidal heave.
(Patrick Landewe)
I think this is actually what made me stare off into space for 20 minutes. While he was writing this (hopefully scrawling it on a weary lighthouse notepad by candlelight; his dark beard hairs glistening in the moonlight), I was watching Justin Bieber perform the worst choreography I've ever seen in my life on a television in Midtown East and simultaneously wishing a certain somebody had the balls to kiss me in front of their friends. Hah! Guess which setting I would have preferred? Okay, I'll tell you. The muthafuckin' lighthouse. MC. DUH.
But in all honesty, I really really enjoyed that rhyming post and especially daydreaming about what that man's life must be like . . . pretty positive it's a lot more interesting, rugged and full of character in comparison with mine. So now, I'm going to compose a miniature rhyme of my own, fashioned from my daydreams today:
I close my eyes, it shuts it out:
endless work days full of blood-boiling strife.
Amidst my worry, a vision appears--
bitter yet inspiring, such is this life.
I dream like a child-- unbridled, passionate and wild too.
Ah well, he probably already has a wife.
(Katie Of The Sea)
I think it's fair to say his was better, even in an objective sense. But hey, I haven't written poetry in ages. Aged cheddar years! While I was writing it, it also reminded me of that awkwardly hilarious scene in High School High where one of the students reads a poem she wrote aloud for the class and her teacher (Jon Lovitz), and it turns out to be this vile, disturbing thing with all these really putrid images about pus and stuff. Totally defies everyone's expectations, which is obviously why it's so funny. But yes, the first few drafts I wrote were really really dark, like 85% cocoa dark, so I decided to tone it down a little bit . . . for my child audience.
Back to the daily grind. Take a minute today to close your eyes and dream with reckless abandonment . . . even if just for a few minutes. I promise you'll breath better afterward. Unless you have a heart condition. Then, I don't know what to tell you. Ask your doctor. UNT
