duck the wave

I stayed up too late last night. We had business to attend to --- bridges to mend, apologies to make, hugs for hurt feelings. Normal stuff, I guess. It's easy to cross wires with people you love, and the closer you are, the harder it is. But yesterday was a super good day. New job prospect, nice dress, good friends, reconnection, healing, elaborate and hilarious plan making.

This morning I overslept and skipped the gym to detail my car. I accidentally exploded a whole bag of oats in the front seat, and it was totally ridiculous to drive around in. Now it's vacuumed to holy hell and wiped down and reorganized and smells good and ready for camping and regatta this weekend. I'm dragging a couple of local blalahs (braddahs, brothers) with me, and the rule is, they have to watch and cheer. The trade-off is fun, snacks, and adventure.

Last night while Kyle was collecting shells, I was teaching him about crooners from the 1920s - 1940's by singing him Nat King Cole. He usually can't do two things at once -- like hunt for shells and listen to lyrics -- but he cried and said thank you, that it was nice.

I love Nat King Cole. I used to listen to him on my grandparents' records and try to imitate his voice. I later would go table to table at an Italian restaurant at age 19 and sing to people. Good tips, weird job overall. I was way more introverted then and pretty terrified. But my MO has always been to run at fear (sometimes by nudge or dare). My parents were pushing me to make good use of my voice.

The result is that I have Billie Holiday, Nat King Cole, and many of the old jazz standards down pat, and my favorites to sing with my stepdad on guitar are "Girl from Ipanema," by Sérgio Mendes & Brasil '66, "Blackbird," kind of in a different style than it was originally written, and "Drive Out to the Range," by Ani DiFranco (that's actually from the 1990's).

He's amazing on guitar and fingerpicks like a mofo. He's also pro at "air guitar," and we make the best pair. Since his recent stroke, he's lost the ability to play: a tragic departure from his greatest love (besides my mom). We hope he'll win it back. His voice is returning shakily, and softly, and slowly.

The sky was clear last night, the stars over the water. And the moon was a perfect crescent, almost a parody of itself. I've been losing stuff around the island inadvertently -- my phone, my sunglasses, my hat (4th of July parade), my sage stick I always take to make art at the beach, my Día de los Muertos playing cards that I use for jailhouse fortune readings. We had a good run.

A new phone is on its way (the last one was only two months old, but it was pretty beat up). The waterproof impact phone cases are not so waterproof and impact-resistant as it turns out. Not for surfing and a'a and being dropped constantly and raked across the rocks.

Anyway I'm looking forward to taking better photos, and I don't mind not being so accessible. The people who need to find me know where I am and how to reach me.

Life has been lifing super hard for a lot of the people I know. Lots of emotions flying around, high-stakes stuff. One person described it as being hit in the face by a hammer over and over. I get it. He also said, "but I'm all-in." Well that's the price. The deeper in you are, the greater the resistance.

While "going with the flow" has always been an aspiration of mine, this feels like an outright brawl. I'd like to "duck under the wave" on this one, but my hackles are up and the opposition is fierce. Just feels like a time to be on high alert, protecting the heart.

Still I'm convinced the antidote is love.

Love and light. Love and light.

---

The photos are of my gramma Charlotte having a little nap in the back yard. She was one of my moms, a spitfire virgo brawler, and an angel on earth. She died 13 years ago and I miss her every day.

I just got a new Our Lady of Guadalupe candle for camping with the boys this weekend and I'm hoping she can handle things for us on the spirit plane. The place we're going is the last place I spent with my brother John --- Easter 2025 at Namakani Paio. I'm planning to cry a lot.

If anyone can handle, Char can. I can't, but Char can (if can, can).