to maine? to maine, it looks like. i’ve wanted to live in maine ever since i read a picture book about a girl who sat in fields and ate bluberries and dug for clams with her father. there was a bear involved, somehow. old fishermen in galoshes and black rubber coats. maine stuff. my five year old self fell in love, and i haven’t forgetten. i like the idea of living somewhere where there’s more trees than people.
tonight we saw a horrible band with a lead singer so drunk he forgot which way was the front of the stage. i couldn’t tell if the lyrics were supposed to be bad or if he was just singing the drunken cliff notes of something more meaningful. n., who is going through a divorce, kept bringing us free beer, and in the spirit of companionship i drank it up. n. hasn’t eaten or slept for a week.
a traveler stayed on my couch the last two nights — stayed with me last week, too, riding a 66 honda bike from omaha to new orleans and back again. this time he showed up on my doorstep covered in dirt with sunburned calves and his bags on either shoulder. he was a strange man. he left this afternoon, after breakfast at the cafe (pancakes and eggs, omelet with feta and olives), and when i went to take a shower there were dirt rings in the tub.