15: fogbound

I wrote 24 cumulative pages of schoolwork in 48 hours. There are no words left in my head. I’m curious how long it will take me to recover from it all, how long it will take to start feeling like an actual person with thoughts instead of an exhausted automaton…

I’m housesitting in a place up in the hills — fogbound tonight. I’ve just come inside from sitting on one of the long wraparound porches that looks out towards the city. Freezing in the fog over Virginia Woolf’s letters. Watching the cars go by. Or rather listening, listening hard for the sound of a car speeding around the curves, and then leaning forward off the balcony to search the fog for the ghost-lamps of their headlights. Incredible, how fast they go in such fog. Are they so comfortable with driving through dark and twisty hillside neighbourhoods that they feel okay at speeding along even with almost no visibility? It’s good that I don’t live here in the hills; it gets foggier here more often than it does in Oakland, and I would never be able to leave the house when it descended.

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~ by Not Alice on November 15, 2007.

One Response to “15: fogbound”

  1. Hello ragamuffin, I love the name of your blog.

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