minutes turn into hours. hours turn into days.

last last weekend, oct 3-5, was the newman student retreat. the sound of beach pebbles not yet sand sliding over each other tumbling into waves. people seemed amused by my “communication exercise.” hot chocolate and oatmeal and three meals a day; h and aspar-AY-gus. fp running someone over unrepentantly during shoe game. b and ancient south american religious pictoral texts. watching b conduct mafia expertly. stupid jokes with d, among others, where sex jokes were ok, dead baby and racist jokes not. glad to report to decadence that “arr, yer drivin me nuts” was well-recieved all around. starfish orange on an old wall whose base was turning into sea-stone. abandoned pier with rusty salted metal and wide cracks between the boards, missing slates reminiscent of the haunted house racetracks in super mario kart, can’t see it until it’s too late and whoosh drop through and gone. tidepools, new shoes dirty, living dangerously by the upspraying surf. the golden gate bridge in all its glory clear; in a grey sky strong; in a mist dipping through silver, disappearing. one on one in a tree. asleep on the bus. asleep during m’s guided meditation, despite appointing self as waker-upper of snoring d. p in pajamas. peace be with you, peace be with you, peace, peace, true and not fake like i thought it would be when cynical. standing barefoot in the waves jeans rolled up ineffectually at night, stars, lights to the right cliff to the left singers behind, cold but not uncomfortably so, alone and glad of it.

the week was a blur. fuzzy edges. a fly that buzzes near our lamps.

last weekend, ryan came to visit; he left today. decadence retreat was on saturday. there are things to do.

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