feeling rather disoriented

where am I?
who am I??
i am disconected from you all--
cut off.
with this ridiculous contraption called a "modem".
WHAT IN THE fuck IS THAT ALL ABOUT?????
a god damned modem.
psh.
it's like living in the stone age, sorta.
only, minus all the cavemen and stuff.

we took kayaks out on the lake the other day, and down a river.
it was a fantastic workout, and a gorgeous day.
we saw a bald eagle, 2 turtles and a bunch of ducks.
the bald eagle was breathtaking--just incredible.
we've seen so much wildlife!
i had forgotten my parents live IN THE WOODS.
last night we narrowly avoided splatting skunks THREE different times.
they're so damn cute.
and we almost hit a deer.
and there was a raccoon wandering across the road at one point, too.
i'm beginning to wonder if it wouldn't be better to just give this place to the animals.
i mean, they seem to out-number us, and they clearly don't give a shit that we can turn them into pancakes in a split second.
eh, it's an idea.
i'll write a letter to the governor, see if i can get the ball rolling.

went to lunch with an old friend today.
he started a computer consulting business and is doing quite well.
...he needs to hire someone to work with him.
he knows he can't afford my husband but they talked about it anyway.
we do this little dance EVERY time we come here.
and it never pans out.
but every year it gets closer and closer to reality.
and i've always said, if we can move out of utah before the kids start school, i'll be happy.
say a little prayer (or 50) for me wouldja?
that same friend is supposed to take us sailing on saturday--
but.
we'll see.

well....
it's hot today.
sticky.
reminds me of the last summer i lived here...
the summer of that boy.
the summer of the hardest job i ever had.
the summer of my first (and last) run-in with the law.
the summer of driving too fast, while changing clothes.
the last summer of freedom.
he lived in that school...
a last chance high school for kids in trouble.
kids from good homes--families with money--
kids...
he was just a child at 17, and i fancied myself mature, at the age of 21.
it didn't matter, though.
i find it difficult to write about him without spewing poetry.
BAD poetry--over the top, dripping with cheese poetry.
but it was all true--
his speaking voice had a way of sliding down through my body, from the entry point of my ears...
it shimmered inside me--no matter what his words were.
his smile affected me like a soft down-filled blanket, or a rainbow--a lightening bolt.
his skin was as soft as a baby's--reminding me of his age.
i could go on endlessly about his hypnotic physical characteristics--
but the most surreal part of him was inside...
i could all but SEE his soul, his creativity, his inner-light.
i sometimes wonder if he was real at all.

so there.