forgotten words

I was standing elbow deep on a crowded subway, my ipod had died, my book was at home, and I had eight stops to go. I didn’t feel like people watching. I didn’t feel like listening to the banjo player. So I reached for my moleskin.

I love when I flip through my little hipster notebook and find forgotten, random crap I’ve written.  While some of it’s really weird (I went through a haiku phase), other stuff is actually share-worthy.  Only  now do I remember scribbling down some thoughts while sitting at a beach bar in West Palm Beach this summer. I had snuck into this little resort so I could enjoy free cocktails and appetizers. I was slightly tipsy and mostly sunburned. My hair was salty. Here’s what went down:

“As I sit here at the bar that I innocently snuck into for the complimentary snacks and cocktails, I am surrounded by overweight women with obviously faux breasts sticking out of their rainbow-colored bikini tops with sunscreen slathered on their cheeks.

You don’t get this in the woods.

The ocean frightens me. I look out and see both the whole world and complete emptiness. When they say  the more you travel, the less you know, this is how I feel when I stare at the ocean, looking out into an entity that covers 3/4’s of the world’s surface. I am full of sand, my nose is inevitably resembling that of Rudolph’s, and I’m conflicted as to whether or not I am enjoying myself.

When I’m at the lake, I feel significant. I am enveloped in its boundedness; I can walk around it, swim through it, and not be taken under by thunderous waves or flesh-seeking sharks. But what about the city? The city also bounds you like the banks of a lake, but its mass can swallow you as well.

I don’t want to be trapped in between concrete.”

About Laura

marketing director at Possible. formerly at Greatist. Still running, finding zen, and searching for the perfect bloody mary.

Posted on October 8, 2011, in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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