crazy moon state

In Praughtland, now. The air here smells green. There are mountains and pines and moss. There are sailboats and barges in the river. We flew over Mount Hood on the way in.

I think I’m in love.

Today we visted the coast and I saw the ocean for the first time in sixteen years. You know how most fog gives the landscape a dull, grey color? Here it was white. Ethereal.

. . .

“I need whale testicles for my illness.”

“What’s your illness?

“Whaleitis.”

“Oh.”

“Inflammation of the whale.”

. . .

Sarah’s house has a parking lot with paint stains all over the place. It would appear that she’s been flinging paint cans off her roof in her spare time. There are bicycle tire tracks that draw paint on the sidewalk.

. . .

“What about fish? Do you eat fish?”

“It’s the fruit of the sea, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, well. So is orangutan.”