Place Entry #4

It is pouring rain. The rain forces me to sit closer, under the jutting entrance of the cave. If I wanted to, I could lay my body down upon the lowering grade at this entrance. Half in and half out of something. Story of my life. Seriously, I find it interesting that all this morning, I was surrounded by people, clothed for the rain, droplets dotting their hair. I was at work at the bookstore where many of these people walk around with their hot teas or lattes, the only danger or discomfort being a burnt tongue or a paper cut. After work, there were even more people. I drove up to the Carneige Library in Oakland, spent fifteen minutes finding a place to park. To keep myself from imploding, I amused myself with the fact that within the hour, I would be at my "wild spot" where none of these people will follow me. I imagined everyone being me for a moment. Driving into the city just to pick up three reserved books and finding out that one is still in transit from another branch. An hour of routes and suburban roads later, their works pants are rolled up mid-claf, flip-flops replace their fancy shoes, a hat sits on their heads, and they walk the half mile to a cave just to write for an hour or so. What if everyone had a wild spot they had to visit? I'm glad all those people are in the city. Leave me alone.

And so it is raining. And thus this pace exists the way it does. I just took my flip-flops off and placed my feet into the cave. This is my first time writing here when my back isn't to the cave. This is my first time writing here when my back isn't to the cave. Half in, half out, I am. It is a shame that we go inside of something when it rains. Sweaters, umbrellas, buildings, homes, porches, cars, under bridges, awnings. We let the rain stop us from our routine outdoor plans. I try to go running a couple days a week and I go even when it rains.

Strangely, the cool air that comes from te bowels of te cave smells like peanut butter. Not real peanut butter, but that grainy, fake peanut butter in crackers. Or maybe it smells like peanut butter cookies. I wonder why that is. I'm rubbing my feet hard against the slope of this ccave and it is hard as cement despite having a crumbling, clay-like appearance. Above me there appears to be forgotten spiderwebs. Webs that spiders give up on. I guess we do that a lot. Abandon beautiful things without really caring or giving a second thought. I do that with my writing, I guess. Not to say that what I write is beautiful, but it has potential. I can go through all my junk and probably find dozens of my own abandoned webs.

My toes are cold, pruny, and dirty from debris from walking here in the rain. I want for my body to really react or interact with this place. I could probably take all my clothes off now if I desired to. I'd be cold and get bitten by mosquitoes, but that is okay. Perhaps I should save that for a dry day.

The sun is shining at my back, so I turn around to see the sun reflect in white gleams on all the wet leaves. I t makes me think of Bob Ross and his landscape art. How he effortlessly dipped his fan brush in the white oil and dotted the evergreens, his happy trees. So little effort, it seems, goes into creating something so beautiful or realistic. Keep in mind, I watched Bob ross after "Mr. Roger's Neighborhood". Bob Ross is like Monet to a five-year-old. Still the mosquitoes are biting. Each week, I have been getting a new constellation of bites on my legs. I would like to bring a magnifying glass and look at a mosquito more carefully. Hopefully, I'd find something so beautiful about it that I'd consider not killing it.

The sun's even brighter now and here I am, still dipping my feet in the cave and my head in the sun. A mile away, my dad is warm and his feet are socked and he's on his knees in front of the TV, ready to watch the Steeler game. I mentioned before that I just moved back in with my parents. And I love being home with them again during this season. I miss sitting with my dad as he watches football. I'd sit there pretending to care as I actually did homework. And now I have that again, for a little while, anyway. He has no idea that right now, I am half with him and half elsewhere. He has no idea that I'm at this cave, shooing mosquitoes, wondering if it is actually still raining or is the wind blowing droplets from the leaves? If it weren't for my father taking me bike riding for the first time on the trail that is near this cave...if it weren't for him instilling a curiosity in nature within me by taking me hiking and fishing...I would not be here craving peanut butter cookies, yet being so far from eating one.

Now it's time to go "watch the game".