Last week, a co-worker commented that July was going so fast. At the time, I thought July was going so slow. However, I have changed my mind. July bounced and leapt, and now, zoom, it's over.
What happened this month? I feel like I spent a lot of time applying and reapplying sunscreen. I had twenty days on boats this month (yayyy), but I couldn't find enough time to buy myself a new pair of sneakers.
This month started with two (not one, two) earthquakes that rocked So Cal on July 4th and 5th. They originated 170 northeast of me. The July 4th quake was 6.4, and the July 5th quake was a 7.1. The quakes happened on a smaller fault which was oddly reassuring.
On July 4th, I was sitting at home and drinking my third cup of tea. I was relishing a day off. I didn't have to be anywhere until fireworks later that night. I was watching the local news when the house started shaking. It was not a jerky shake. It was more a rolling feeling like being on a boat. Damn, I thought, on my day off from boats, I still feel the motion of ocean. As I finished my thought, the rolling stopped. I looked toward the television for answers but found none. The newscasters had felt it too and were asking for tweets. Since the house hadn't fallen on me, I decided to make a 4th cup of tea.
That night, I watched the bombs bursting in air. It was bright. It was loud. It was brilliant in its Americaness. The next day, I worked.
That evening, I chilled out by watching Bob Dylan's Rolling Thunder Revue on Netflix. I like Bob, but the highlight of the film was watching Joni Mitchell jam with Bob on a song she had written called Coyote. You just picked up a hitcher, a prisoner of the white lines of the freeway.
Right after the movie ended, the house began to shake again. There was rolling but not a lot of thunder. It went on for a few seconds. I wondered if it would be better for me to go outside, but the rolling stopped before I reached the door. I later learned that my chances of survival are better if I don't go outside where I could be it hit by electric lines and random debris. Even if the house falls down on me, I could find a pocket to crawl into. Now I know.
A week after the earthquake, I watched Tea With Dames, a documentary where four actresses (all dames) sit around a table and have a chat. They drink tea then move onto champagne. The Dames (Plowright, Dench, Smith, Atkins) all know each other and have worked together. It's refreshing to see and hear actresses actually talk about the work they do instead of some bullshit for promoting a movie. I especially liked Maggie Smith's comments on Downton Abbey. It's also nice to see four ladies in their eighties. It gives me something to look forward. I'm at an age where I need to learn how to grow old. Good reading glasses are key.
I also spent time on boats. Okay, I spent a lot of time on boats. I saw dolphins and a whale. I sat bobbing up and down in no wind. I drank Gatorade. It was chill. We all sat around telling stories.
Stories, stories, stories. Lots of stories. Everyone has a narrative, a character arc, a motivation, conflict, exposition, epiphany, resolution. All those storytelling toys were once only shared by writers smoking cigarettes in dark alleyways. Now, they're known by everyone. That sucks. I can no longer be a snob.
There are other stories I could tell, but I like to keep somethings to myself. Besides, August is coming. Maybe I will have more time to play with words. . .and buy new sneakers.