Places Where People Used to Live
Aug. 21st, 2020 10:55 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mallorys_cameraDreamed I was part of this huge group of travelers. Were we fleeing from something? Migrating toward something? Or possibly in some sort of court progression? I knew everyone.
RTT was there—not the RTT of now, but the enchanting child with supernaturally long eyelashes he once was, dashing about, weaving in and out of the group’s slowly moving forward motion like some sort of contrapuntal melody. It was annoying!
In exasperation, I kept trying to rein him in. Finally got fed up. Too hell with you! I thought. (Baaaaaad mother.) He saw the change of mood and immediately tried to woo me back, hanging the coat he was wearing up on a peg instead of dropping it on the floor. See? I’m a good boy.
It was a fur coat of some sort. Mink. Ben had given it to him, and I thought, That’s an entirely inappropriate thing for a 6-year-old boy to be wearing.
We were arranging some sort of huge ceremonial meal, and I was busy doing prep work, greeting everyone, making sure everyone had enough to eat.
I saw a woman I knew slightly. (I knew her husband better.) She was an artist; I’d seen her work, and it was good.
By reputation, she was a very dynamic, self-assured person, so I was shocked when I said, “Hello, Mary,” and she burst into tears.
“My name is Mikayela Lisa,” she sobbed.
“Oh! I got your name wrong! I’m so sorry,” I said.
And she sobbed even louder. Because I hadn’t remembered her name!
What an incredibly stupid thing to cry over, I thought—but began to try to pacify her anyway. We’ve been marching so long, I’m so tired, I’m forgetting everything! And, I’m a really awful person with names, but I’d never forget your work, it’s so wonderful.
Finally, I said, I understand why you’re crying. I have an unusual first name, too, and everybody mispronounces it constantly, even though it’s not really that hard to pronounce—
And she said in a strangled voice, “Yes.”
The fact that I had finally gotten her to stop sobbing and say something shocked me.
And, of course, I had to pretend to be sympathetic and everything. But really I was thinking, The world has some major, major problems right now, your survival is at stake—and this is what you choose to cry about? Goddam, you are a fucking idiot.
###
The coat RTT was wearing in the dream was this one:
(He’s the one in the middle with the cap, pointing.)
From a stage production of Peter Pan his elementary school did. He was one of the Lost Boys.
###
I woke up in the middle of the night.
(I’ve been waking up in the middle of the night for the past 10 days or so. It is very annoying.)
And I did that thing you are never supposed to do: I turned on my computer.
The former Future Mother of My Unborn Grandchildren lost her childhood home in Boulder Creek. Burned to the ground.
Susie posted her emergency evacuation list:
Susie’s husband, Jon, spent the day helping friends in Davenport evacuate. He shot these two videos:
You figure the fire will stop when it hits the Pacific Ocean but maybe, the winds just shift south, and it hits Santa Cruz.
They’ve already evacuated the UC Santa Cruz campus.
Annie and Stew live three miles away from the UC Santa Cruz campus.
I love California beyond words, and most especially, the San Francisco Bay Area and the Central Coast, but I don’t think I could ever live there again.
The reality—that these firestorms are now a yearly phenomenon—is too brutal.
###
I spent yesterday chasing down National Counting Project renegades up and down Haviland Road.
I think Haviland was once its own town. A farming community. I haven’t been able to discover any history.
I know that in 1999, a family who lived on the outer edge of the web of suburban developments that now occupy the site of those vanished cornfields and apple orchards decided to dredge the pond sitting on the back of their property. They hired a backhoe. And dug up an enormous bone—which turned out to be a mastodon humerus.
The rest of the mastodon’s skeleton was dug up, too, and is now on display at the Museum of the Earth in Ithaca where I visited it a couple of years ago:
No mastodons in evidence yesterday. But an awful lot of abandoned houses. And I kept thinking I was hearing roosters crowing. Although, how could I have been?
RTT was there—not the RTT of now, but the enchanting child with supernaturally long eyelashes he once was, dashing about, weaving in and out of the group’s slowly moving forward motion like some sort of contrapuntal melody. It was annoying!
In exasperation, I kept trying to rein him in. Finally got fed up. Too hell with you! I thought. (Baaaaaad mother.) He saw the change of mood and immediately tried to woo me back, hanging the coat he was wearing up on a peg instead of dropping it on the floor. See? I’m a good boy.
It was a fur coat of some sort. Mink. Ben had given it to him, and I thought, That’s an entirely inappropriate thing for a 6-year-old boy to be wearing.
We were arranging some sort of huge ceremonial meal, and I was busy doing prep work, greeting everyone, making sure everyone had enough to eat.
I saw a woman I knew slightly. (I knew her husband better.) She was an artist; I’d seen her work, and it was good.
By reputation, she was a very dynamic, self-assured person, so I was shocked when I said, “Hello, Mary,” and she burst into tears.
“My name is Mikayela Lisa,” she sobbed.
“Oh! I got your name wrong! I’m so sorry,” I said.
And she sobbed even louder. Because I hadn’t remembered her name!
What an incredibly stupid thing to cry over, I thought—but began to try to pacify her anyway. We’ve been marching so long, I’m so tired, I’m forgetting everything! And, I’m a really awful person with names, but I’d never forget your work, it’s so wonderful.
Finally, I said, I understand why you’re crying. I have an unusual first name, too, and everybody mispronounces it constantly, even though it’s not really that hard to pronounce—
And she said in a strangled voice, “Yes.”
The fact that I had finally gotten her to stop sobbing and say something shocked me.
And, of course, I had to pretend to be sympathetic and everything. But really I was thinking, The world has some major, major problems right now, your survival is at stake—and this is what you choose to cry about? Goddam, you are a fucking idiot.
###
The coat RTT was wearing in the dream was this one:
(He’s the one in the middle with the cap, pointing.)
From a stage production of Peter Pan his elementary school did. He was one of the Lost Boys.
###
I woke up in the middle of the night.
(I’ve been waking up in the middle of the night for the past 10 days or so. It is very annoying.)
And I did that thing you are never supposed to do: I turned on my computer.
The former Future Mother of My Unborn Grandchildren lost her childhood home in Boulder Creek. Burned to the ground.
Susie posted her emergency evacuation list:
Susie’s husband, Jon, spent the day helping friends in Davenport evacuate. He shot these two videos:
You figure the fire will stop when it hits the Pacific Ocean but maybe, the winds just shift south, and it hits Santa Cruz.
They’ve already evacuated the UC Santa Cruz campus.
Annie and Stew live three miles away from the UC Santa Cruz campus.
I love California beyond words, and most especially, the San Francisco Bay Area and the Central Coast, but I don’t think I could ever live there again.
The reality—that these firestorms are now a yearly phenomenon—is too brutal.
###
I spent yesterday chasing down National Counting Project renegades up and down Haviland Road.
I think Haviland was once its own town. A farming community. I haven’t been able to discover any history.
I know that in 1999, a family who lived on the outer edge of the web of suburban developments that now occupy the site of those vanished cornfields and apple orchards decided to dredge the pond sitting on the back of their property. They hired a backhoe. And dug up an enormous bone—which turned out to be a mastodon humerus.
The rest of the mastodon’s skeleton was dug up, too, and is now on display at the Museum of the Earth in Ithaca where I visited it a couple of years ago:
No mastodons in evidence yesterday. But an awful lot of abandoned houses. And I kept thinking I was hearing roosters crowing. Although, how could I have been?
no subject
Date: 2020-08-21 04:11 pm (UTC)The mastodon skeleton looks like it's laughing. "Hello suckers! I'm just bones now. BONESSSSS!" But what a cool thing to dig up in your yard, huh?
no subject
Date: 2020-08-22 12:10 am (UTC)Yeah, he is a cool mastodon! 😀
no subject
Date: 2020-08-21 04:15 pm (UTC)It is extremely smoky in Oakland. I actually just posted about it but with my usual dose of incandescent disdain for the whole place so you'd be forgiven if you skipped it.
no subject
Date: 2020-08-22 12:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-08-22 01:24 am (UTC)