Some hours ago I returned from a solo trip to the beach. Same beach I always go to. From the lifeguard stand where I perched I could see some kids further down, around a fire. The wind coming off the Atlantic was strong and the fire was burning very well, but very quickly. I gave them some kindling, sheets of palm bark dessicated by the wind. Then I left.
I went to the beach because it has featured prominently in moments of ecstasy and thought in my personal history. It is a very dynamic place, where many of my favorite bits of the universe come together. I like going at night. Then the stars can be included in the dynamism. The people who go to the beach at night tend also to be reflective and unseen, quiet silhouettes moving against the thin white lines of the breaking surf. Sometimes they also fuck on lifeguard stands, or start fires, neither of which I really mind at all. I will also go to the same beach tomorrow, in the day, because I also love the beach in the day. I can wade and swim with less caution, and finally feel some sunlight on my bareness. Tomorrow evening I fly back up to New York, get into La Guardia around 9pm, drive back up to school. There my shirt will remain on while outdoors.
I went to the beach tonight to think on the dead, and also to think nothing. I could not clear my head. Instead I just sang to myself and looked into the horizon, imagining an asteroid striking at sea and the waves swallowing South Florida.