the island

the lighthouse is working again. i stood out here last night on the porch and timed it. for a long while this afternoon and every now and then throughout the week, it's been deathly still, more resembling a photograph than i'd like. even when we visited, we had to shoot our pictures from the outside because it lay dormant. it's alive now, though, silently sweeping across the bay here in st. george's. silhouetted nicely by rooftops and cruise ship smokestacks. the lights are staggered into 5 and 10 second intervals, which i find pretty odd. either it's intentional and a way to let ships know which lighthouse it is - an archaic feature to be sure - or one of the three lights are out, leaving a 120 degree discrepancy between the flashes. just now an airplane banks over it to land.

i'm in a good mood. quiet and contemplating, but content. there aren't any mosquitos out. the humidity isn't bothersome. the ambient light is dying but the light behind my head is compensating for it. reggae and soca - or island music in general - is tripping and echoing over the rooflines from the town square, partying with the ships, celebrating the first day of Cup Match. in a couple minutes we will be leaving to spend the last of our fake cash at the fancy restaurant and bar a couple hundred yards away.

my legs go dead like this, propped up on the table while i lean back in a dark green plastic chair. i was reading a while back and had to get up every now and then. it's a good opportunity to simply stand and look around, observe the bay, something i've spent ample time doing this week. i feel like it's something people should stop to do more often, observe. something to practice. also makes for good time to let zen and the art sink in a little. that book just puts me in a good mood. maybe it's the philosophy that i actually understand. maybe i just like the contrast it makes with the gossip girls novels lying around. who knows. i'm glad to be only halfway through.

when i walked inside and back out again, i was barefoot. i noticed that, without really trying, i was being as quiet as possible. i liked that. felt like it fit my mood. it reminded me how much i want a thought recorder. so many times, especially recently, i feel like i've lost wonderful opportunities to put words to paper. often, it's just a single phrase that runs through my head. one line in a never ending narration, but one that sets me in the perfect mood to unload all that burdens me. maybe someday.

there is one burden i haven't forgotten. the lonesome late night bus rides from hamilton remind me, fill me with wonder. how wonderful would it be to have someone to hold on to? i guess it also is rooted strongly in taking a trip with three other singles and two couples: an open one and a secretive one. whenever i go off alone, i'd love the option to wander around together. dark bus rides with a head on my shoulder. i wonder why it's always the same people who come to mind. i w0nder why it's always the wrong people who come to mind. i wonder.

oh well, dinner calls.