Deflowered

Before this evening... I was a motorcycle virgin.

And now...

Well now I am something entirely different.  Because this evening I had my first motorcycle ride.  And it was perfect.  It was exactly what I dared hope it would be- All fluidity and ease in motion.  All grace and presence.   And holy bananas- I was present beyond all experience of presence.  I watched the sun go down from a motorcycle.

I saw the world fly by in a rush of air and goodness and throttle.

But it was not flying at all.  It held still for each heartbeat- each breath I took infused with my surroundings.

Perfect.

Perfect.

Perfect.

Dear Alaska,

There will, in fact, be things that I miss about you.

But YOU will not be one of them.

Because, in fact, I did not experience Alaska this season.  I experienced Anchorage.  And, naturally, there were and are things here that I genuinely enjoyed.  My cohort.  My roommates. The stories that I now have to tell about my crazy landlady, our psychotic and hermit-like neighbors, and the misadventures of one wildly moody housecat.

I enjoyed the mountains in the distance and the strange sense of community in this strange northern town.  Dogs everywhere, street people making it a point to yell at me.

The Bear Tooth Theatrepub and Chilkoot Charlie's Trivia night.

I cannot, however, say that I will miss the town as a whole.

Again, nor can I say that I will miss Alaska.  Alaska- the big wilderness, the big sense of wanderlust and glamour and loss- did not exist for me.  Not this season, anyway.  Plans foiled; mischief never quite properly managed; fashioning of nonsense and no-good constantly foiled...

I gave up on the BIG Alaska.  I cannot regret it or regret will eat me alive... but I will be saddened by the world outside that I never quite got my act together enough to engage.

Alas- I blame myself, Alaska, not you. It is my ache, my pain, my mistake.

Love,
Kate

September... Oh September...

I am indeed obsessed with my birthday month.  It has to be said.  September is the start of the fall- my favorite season.  It is the delicious month when the summer is finally letting go and the sweetness of golden autumn light begins to creep into the days.  I am a Libra- so I am especially partial to the late part of the month- but I will take any bit of it.

Holy Bananas.  Official obsession (which may become a problem later down the line when I decide that motorcycles are in fact a great mode of transportation) and serious streaming video problem with Ewan McGregor and Charley Boorman's travel 'Long Way' documentaries.  Brilliantly funny, brilliantly British, and brilliantly executed, these journeys and these men are going to cost me an arm and a leg in Internet overages!

Completely absurd ailments.  Yep.  Storytime.   Yesterday I woke to shards of glass ripping into my throat, an epic ear ache and general health shit-tast-ic-ness.  So I roll out to find a walk in clinic (in the middle of the always pouring Anchorage rain) which, naturally, takes far more time than it should.  But eventually, after much chagrin and cursing of the weather gods, I am ushered into the back room where they take temperature, blood pressure, etc.  After two different thermometers and two rounds of double checking- confirmed.  My body temp is only 94 degrees.  Consult your survival dictionaries- I have officially dropped low enough to be hypothermic.  Crikey.

Bear Tooth Theatrepub.  I just love it here... a second-chance movie theatre that serves food and drink and keeps the kids away from the rest of us in an 'alcohol free' balcony zone.  It's brilliant. In fact, I may treat my hypothermic and bronchitis-ridden self to World War Z this weekend.  Since, you know, sickos can't make it to Denali even though that was the original plan.  Nah.. I'm not Bitter at All.  (Hack, stupid Alaska).

I remembered how lovely his voice is... and his.  And now I can't stop listening to either.

Reconnecting.  I've done a lot of that lately for some reason.  I realized that I had forgotten how lovely it is to reconnect with someone loved.

Okay...
Till Next Time...

F*ing Hypothermia?!?

The Woods are Lovely,

Dark and Deep- 
But I have promises to keep, 
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep. 

Sometimes, the way people get songs stuck in their heads, I get poetry.  Lately 'Stopping By Woods on a Snow Evening' has been background noise in my mind.  And even then, just that final stanza.

I believe it is the grace of this section- the remembered mileage, the promises unfulfilled, the darkness and deepness of it all- that gets to me.  The inevitably of continuing on...

Especially now as I gear up for yet another move.  The suitcases will come out, soon, and I will stare at them for a while, putting off the inevitable.  Then they will become the woods- dark and deep- and empty- until I remind myself of the promises that I have made and I have to keep.

Only then will the packing happen.  It will and in the frantic flurry of folded clothing and measured shoves, I will think about all of this mileage.  All of the roads I have driven, flights I have flown, seas I have sailed.  And I will think about the thousand sleepless hours of travel- the ones on the train station floors or airport baggage claims, with neon clocks mocking me.  Or the nights shoving too many people into one hotel room.  Or the heartbeats counted on a plane, staring blindly at the flight map, wishing to hell that my legs were shorter.

What promises have I made to go through all of that?

Promises of a welcome home hug- and those I keep.

Much love, all.