Mainland Habitat

From the stark to the stark, one barren another overpopulated. The air is misty with condensation here and the lake, expansive, is unfrozen except in stilled water of empty dockyards. I have no pictures to show yet, not of Chicago, but the intermediate stop in New Zealand presented plenty of photo opportunity, all those locked away on my hard drive to appear some other evening.

People are generally as friendly, as handsome, as funny, as curious, as stolid as I remember them. No wonderful jobs have fallen in my lap, but that is not the way wonderful jobs are attained.

As the experience distances, my reflection on Antarctica develops a stronger nostalgia and grows in fondness, like a cactus left to blossom. I think less of the oddly isolated community, the moribund mores; I think more of the exotic harshness, the unique opportunity, the relinquishment of responsibility. I wonder: if we could all see the continent, traverse an empty ice shelf, would it make us different people? Better people?

There is no reason to let a living blog die by the wayside. There is no reason to hate the wolf for killing the sheep, that is the nature of the wolf, as the scorpion must sting the fox. There is no reason to hate the blogger for doing what he does. That is blog.

It is good to be back.

Ephemera

Reports that as I walked an emptying hall this morning my feet preceded my body too far, like Wile E. Coyote revving his legs in a round then taking off down the curving road, his torso still in place, yet to catch up.

What does it mean when the highlight of the day is brewing tea and drinking it with four spoons of honey? I can see arguments for both sides.

I appreciate the responses to the Emerson below, but, really, that was an essay prompt, and I expect essay answers, so I don't appreciate the responses because not one of them was in essay form.

There is only one more day of work. Tomorrow (Friday) I am on a snowmobile trip - "Morale Booster" - to a section of the ice shelf known as Windless Bight, out there pulling flags before winter hits. Saturday is the final day, Sunday off, Monday packing and cleaning, Tuesday gone, weather permitting. My coworkers have driven me to the edge and this morning I found myself reading about Raskolnikov. I listened to the Talking Heads, returned chemicals no longer needed by grantees, filled paperwork, filed paperwork.

Slowly we grow tired, sleep comes earlier and earlier. So we lie in bed and ponder this, decry all the madness all about, bury ourselves in books, what not. The dreamcatchers seining deep water drift shallow, worn and wide. I'll leave you, Antarctica. Nothing more.


'Your eyes that once were never weary of mine
Are bowed in sorrow under pendulous lids,
Because our love is waning.'
And then She:
'Although our love is waning, let us stand
By the lone border of the lake once more,
Together in that hour of gentleness
When the poor tired child, passion, falls asleep.
How far away the stars seem, and how far
Is our first kiss, and ah, how old my heart!'

Pensive they paced along the faded leaves,
While slowly he whose hand held hers replied:
'Passion has often worn our wandering hearts.'

The woods were round them, and the yellow leaves
Fell like faint meteors in the gloom, and once
A rabbit old and lame limped down the path;
Autumn was over him: and now they stood
On the lone border of the lake once more:
Turning, he saw that she had thrust dead leaves
Gathered in silence, dewy as her eyes,
In bosom and hair.
'Ah, do not mourn,' he said,
'That we are tired, for other loves await us;
Hate on and love through unrepining hours.
Before us lies eternity; our souls
Are love, and a continual farewell.'

Agree or Disagree? Why?

Traveling is a fool's paradise. We owe to our first journeys the discovery that place is nothing. At home I dream that at Naples, at Rome, I can be intoxicated with beauty and lose my sadness. I pack my trunk, embrace my friends, embark on the sea and at last wake up in Naples, and there beside me is the stern Fact, and sad self, unrelenting, identical, that I fled from. I seek the Vatican and the palaces. I affect to be intoxicated with sights and suggestions, but I am not intoxicated. My giant goes with me wherever I go.