Stuck in this centre of Nothing, surrounded with l myself and staying away from all the entrapment of every day life. Wooden throwing games and bottles and bread and butter (and ok the pastries, yes the pastries) and the scent of the lake water, not like the sea which is enormous and devouring, not like river water which is forever coming and going, this lake water sits and plays host, shallow like a relaxed brain, wu shin ripples giving way to play and shrieking.
We have Internet because now the world is meshed up like one of those hams or bottles of wine, but it's a world a million miles away and then some. We have a speaker powered by 4 AA batteries and a little green cable that goes to a CD player or an old phone filled with some MP3s if we're feeling luxurious. The music is limited, curated, caged. Reminds me of earlier days, before streaming, before the abundance of choice. "what we got?" is the conversation. "that's a good one." Restricted movements, understandable decisions, collaborative culture moving at the pace of a beetle. Deep, elongated choices stretching out into the onset of stars.
I gave #son1 a lift across the lake earlier on a lilo covered in pink, blue and green dots. I've taken to calling him Grasshopper this holiday because he never sits still and his legs are always on the go and because it makes me feel like an old wise kung fu man. Grasshopper jumped off the lilo to head off to the beach and I started drifting back on the lilo when a cricket - I guess, aren't grasshoppers green? still - a cricket landed on my shoulder and sat there. "This is my life then," I thought, "transporting grasshoppers." I was OK with that and wondered what it meant for a moment, and then me and grasshopper sculled back across the lake past inflatable pizzas and the sounds of laughter.