9/11
I'm three sighs deep into a frozen mudslide made Willy-Wonka sweet—extra Bailey's, gobs of vanilla soft-serve, whipped-cream clouds and carnival swirls of chocolate syrup. A Cape Cod ocean wave folds gently and foams towards a midget seagull-sandpiper thingamabird which is frantically eating wet muck with epileptic twitches of its number-two-pencil beak. My pasty legs are sunburned. Blotched awkwardly like amalgamated chicken pox. I make a mental note to invent colored sun block ("They already have it!") so next time I can see which swaths of virginal city-white skin I've neglected. I make another mental note to stop inventing things (that they already have) and just enjoy the last full day of my stunted vacation. Tomorrow morning I have to board the crazy bus in Hyannis and ride it six crazy hours to my East Village apartment. New York City actually seems a lot farther away than that. I again peer at the Atlantic over my teal iBook laptop and take comfort in the roughly 5 million water miles I can see without a skyscraper. Hopefully it's enough miles for me to finally write and release this essay, enough distance and time and alcohol and karma and catharses to finally shake me from the nondescript, histrionic paralysis I've
Some topics in this essay:
September It's, York City, Red Cross, I'll Jake, Third Street, Cape Cod, Jimmy Eager-Beaver, Overall Sept, Lexington Massachusetts, NY T-shirt/bumper, york city, *** essay, week september, september 11, mental note, thanks solidified, who've experienced, thanks solidified contract, solidified contract,
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Approximate Word count = 1729
Approximate Pages = 7 (250 words per page double spaced)
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