Wednesday, October 7, 2009

how tolerance works

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See it's like when you go to the beach
when summer first starts and you see the water and the water looks so blue and beautiful after all the sand, after you lay your towel down and walk to where the water meets the damp part of the sand and stand there with your feet scrunching; then you see a big wave and see the water coming and know it's about to cover your feet and splash your ankles; and it's freezing, so you inch your way in an inch of a body part of at a time, thinking: yes, oh jeezus, yes, that's cold; the entire time looking back to the beach where you started, where you see your towel sitting, and you finally put your head under, holding your breath again, since who knows when the last time was, or maybe when you didn't want to breathe in the exhaust from the bus beside you, because it looked so thick and you were afraid of getting cancer, even though you smoke occasionally when you're drunk, but you hold your breath and listen to the loud nothing of the ocean's fucking eternity, dark and pulling you wherever it wants you to go, and the first time you do something again after you haven't done it in a while is kind of scary, but you know you have to breathe to live, and that's the least you have to do aside from eating or joining the NRA, so you come up to breathe and hear the ocean from outside, you take the water from your eyes, slick back your hair, lick your lips for salt, lift your legs and just sort of float there until a wave comes, and then you either get pounded on a little and your hair gets messed up again, and there's more water to wipe from your eyes, or you jump when it comes, and then you look around and everybody else sort of jumps around the same time as you, and maybe that's where the wave came from at sports games, but well, of course that's where it came from, but just the water part, even without the people all jumping around the time that I jump, all the way to the point where they're at the shore just getting wet, when the water feels much colder than it does on me after it got my hair, and then I think: now what, I can just kind of jump around and float some out here and tread water, but now the water will never be cold again until I dry off, and maybe eat a sandwich and come back in, but probably only once more, since I don't want my butt to be too wet, when I'm trying to get home.
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