enchantment
Sep. 2nd, 2003 04:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lapsedmodernistI don't normally do "this is what i did this weekend" entries, but this past weekend deserves it, because it was one of the best weekends i have ever had. in fact, it may be one of the best weekends anyone has ever had, it was so good, i refuse to limit my assessment of it to my own individual curve. that's right, it was so good that i am committing the fallacy of decontextualizing and positing objective criteria.
So, once upon a time,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
totalvirility yelled at this kid named Ed in Paris. this was some years ago. they have become friends since then. many good epiphenomena ensued from that truce, (including, indirectly, my meeting J.) anyway, this relates to this weekend thusly: Ed's family owns an island on the Cape, the next one over from Martha's Vineyard, a huge fucking island called Nashawena, about the size of Manhattan where Ed lets his friends come hang out, booze it up, and frolic in Emersonian nature. I really don't mean to brag, like, ooh, I got to hang out on the private island of the ______ family, that's not exactly a staple of my lifestyle, it was just a fucking amazing experience. Seven people total went, myself included. The other people were Ed himself, totalvirility, his erstwhile boyfriend (TM), J., and two other friends of Ed's.
First of all, the island is the most beautiful, magical, romantic place I have ever had the fortune to visit. I am sure it was partially due to the fact that there was no one else but us there, which colored everything--from staying in a totally American-Gothic-esque Red House with a Tolkien-esque fireplace (withtotalvirility curled up in front of it in a total Bilbo Baggins-esque vest, procured from one of the closet) to taking a drunk, J&B-empowered walk in *absolute dark* to the beach where between the pitch-black waves we could move our hands through the water and see the trail of phospherescence--with a "holy shit, it's JUST US HERE" feeling. We hiked, we swam in a lake that reminded me of nothing so much as a lake from a dream I had when I was a child, wherein I experienced *absolute happinnes* (the kind of hyber-concentrated feeling that one can only have in a dream, in my case it was a two-part dream, the first one taking place at a lake in the forest that mirrored the sky perfectly, the second part in some town that has nothing to do with modern, or even historical definitions of "town," more like some festive place of habitation where every house was integrated with nature in some art-nouveau-meets Tales of Hoffman way, and where bright orange flowers decorated the sky like fireworks). we drank and smoked. we cooked and ate amazing food. we listened for the sounds of the house ghost, apparently named Shelley. we sustained small injuries. I have bruises all over my right leg that I do not remember acquiring. P., one of the girls, is a photographer, so she made us all strip down and lie in the middle of a field while she took pictures that had something to do with deobjectifying the human body through playing with objectification. or something. i was fairly drunk. we held a hermit crab race. i found about 8 pieces of seaglass, of various hues of green. green seaglass is one of my favorite things in the world.
the only kind of traumatic thing was the trip back. J. and I had tickets for the bus, but when we got over to New Bedford, the Bonanza Bus Station was very much closed. We ended up getting a ride back with A. and everyone else, in the back of an old station wagon, which was as fortunate as it was uncomforatble. It was also a bit glum; after we stopped for dinner in New Haven, we saw a huge truck that had just spun out of control on the interstate, and continued on, down the wet highway, me at the very back, masochistically watching traffic behind us, that was comprised, in a Labor Day ratio of 25% drunk people, 25% assholes who did not see it necessary to dim their brights, 25% people who were likely to signal 50% of the time that they should have, and 25% terrified people, like us. To add insult to injury, as we were entering the Bronx, we saw our fucking Bonanza bus pulling into NYC; apparently it departed just fine out of Providence, completely bypassing the bus stop we had a ticket for, because the bus stop we had a ticket for decided it did not feel like being open that day. Apparently Bonanza Buses is a subsidiary of Peter Pan busses. I am calling them tonight. They stranded us in Never-Neverland, and they WILL refund the bus tickets, I will go all the way to the top, to Mr. Greyhound himself, if need be. Nobody puts Baby in the corner.
So, once upon a time,
totalvirility yelled at this kid named Ed in Paris. this was some years ago. they have become friends since then. many good epiphenomena ensued from that truce, (including, indirectly, my meeting J.) anyway, this relates to this weekend thusly: Ed's family owns an island on the Cape, the next one over from Martha's Vineyard, a huge fucking island called Nashawena, about the size of Manhattan where Ed lets his friends come hang out, booze it up, and frolic in Emersonian nature. I really don't mean to brag, like, ooh, I got to hang out on the private island of the ______ family, that's not exactly a staple of my lifestyle, it was just a fucking amazing experience. Seven people total went, myself included. The other people were Ed himself, totalvirility, his erstwhile boyfriend (TM), J., and two other friends of Ed's. First of all, the island is the most beautiful, magical, romantic place I have ever had the fortune to visit. I am sure it was partially due to the fact that there was no one else but us there, which colored everything--from staying in a totally American-Gothic-esque Red House with a Tolkien-esque fireplace (with
totalvirility curled up in front of it in a total Bilbo Baggins-esque vest, procured from one of the closet) to taking a drunk, J&B-empowered walk in *absolute dark* to the beach where between the pitch-black waves we could move our hands through the water and see the trail of phospherescence--with a "holy shit, it's JUST US HERE" feeling. We hiked, we swam in a lake that reminded me of nothing so much as a lake from a dream I had when I was a child, wherein I experienced *absolute happinnes* (the kind of hyber-concentrated feeling that one can only have in a dream, in my case it was a two-part dream, the first one taking place at a lake in the forest that mirrored the sky perfectly, the second part in some town that has nothing to do with modern, or even historical definitions of "town," more like some festive place of habitation where every house was integrated with nature in some art-nouveau-meets Tales of Hoffman way, and where bright orange flowers decorated the sky like fireworks). we drank and smoked. we cooked and ate amazing food. we listened for the sounds of the house ghost, apparently named Shelley. we sustained small injuries. I have bruises all over my right leg that I do not remember acquiring. P., one of the girls, is a photographer, so she made us all strip down and lie in the middle of a field while she took pictures that had something to do with deobjectifying the human body through playing with objectification. or something. i was fairly drunk. we held a hermit crab race. i found about 8 pieces of seaglass, of various hues of green. green seaglass is one of my favorite things in the world.the only kind of traumatic thing was the trip back. J. and I had tickets for the bus, but when we got over to New Bedford, the Bonanza Bus Station was very much closed. We ended up getting a ride back with A. and everyone else, in the back of an old station wagon, which was as fortunate as it was uncomforatble. It was also a bit glum; after we stopped for dinner in New Haven, we saw a huge truck that had just spun out of control on the interstate, and continued on, down the wet highway, me at the very back, masochistically watching traffic behind us, that was comprised, in a Labor Day ratio of 25% drunk people, 25% assholes who did not see it necessary to dim their brights, 25% people who were likely to signal 50% of the time that they should have, and 25% terrified people, like us. To add insult to injury, as we were entering the Bronx, we saw our fucking Bonanza bus pulling into NYC; apparently it departed just fine out of Providence, completely bypassing the bus stop we had a ticket for, because the bus stop we had a ticket for decided it did not feel like being open that day. Apparently Bonanza Buses is a subsidiary of Peter Pan busses. I am calling them tonight. They stranded us in Never-Neverland, and they WILL refund the bus tickets, I will go all the way to the top, to Mr. Greyhound himself, if need be. Nobody puts Baby in the corner.
