Some days the door feels closed. There is no discernible draft, no small concession from the gap in its frame. No mercy breeze. I’ve been toiling madly with the handle, like a circling thought. The skin along my palm has thinned to brightness. It occurs to me that effort and access are not the same thing. I tell myself I must reframe, as if this were a question of angles.
Some days the door looks closed. An optical hustle. I’ve approached it from every direction. It remains upright and unpersuaded. The answers exist on the other side of its fantasy. I am sure of it in the way one is sure of a place never visited.
Some days the door sounds closed. The slam is decisive. A percussion of refusal. If only I was a touch quicker. I should have made a spare.
The arched scrap wood has become my oracle, a magic eight ball of sorts. The swirls of choice and opportunity are presented on the nearby trail, from the door that seemingly leads to nowhere. Though I suspect nowhere is failure of imagination.
I consult it. I try to do so without urgency. Urgency has a way of hardening the air.
Last week - closed, my sources say no. Yesterday - slightly ajar. Concentrate and ask again. Today - open, it is decidedly so.
I am aware they are arbitrary. I am also aware that I want to believe them. I tell myself this is enough.
every time i come up here the bench is in a new position. it’s not that the bench is heavy that makes this surprising, but it lived in one place for so long that we all almost forgot we could move it.
i’ve never seen the moving. it’s always as though, in the middle of the night, the owls plot where the strange vertical mammals should sit in awe next.
this detail always escapes me when i’m making the ascent. my endurance is low and my chest burns enough to forget the game of hide and seek ahead.
today the deer, maybe the lizards, moved it to the spot where i always stretch out my hips and take in the body of water the city only lets the wild life enjoy. i half think this is a good idea because it would be wrecked if they opened it to the public. but the other half of me, August me, would love to hop the fence and swim. it really isn’t that high and the barbed wire seems pretty tame.
it’s reminiscent of sneaking into our high school pool, adrenaline pumping. from here i can see a parting in the pines, revealing a weak point.
that’s where i’ll enter.
the higher the chair back the closer to god ..
ob x lm x sf x kl ;)
OB’s “Hand-Me-Downs” concept: A collection created using excess materials, meticulous reassembly, and Lyle’s signature details.
Sunfish embraced this approach, with centuries-old redwood from a barn in Northern California. The pieces, like the clothing, incorporate hand-dyed indigo techniques.
You have a few more days to take a peek in the storefront. Thanks again🪁
No corner left untouched. A few years back, renovating the 1993 30ft Airstream Excella 1000, with a rare front kitchen.❣️💎
The bathroom takes up a whopping 3ft length of the trailer, but in spaces that small it’s nice when every inch feels considered. I made some tiles for the first time. They adorn the surface above the incinerating toilet, you read that correctly.
Turns out employing an ill mannered cat to lay on the fragile tiles as they dry and some aimless chickens to glaze gets stellar results.
