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Tuesday, August 31st, 2010

    Time Event
    12:26a
    She seemed to weigh at least twenty pounds in my...
    She seemed to weigh at least
    twenty pounds in my soupy, half-asleep state"The
    hurricane guy is Jim Cantore," I said"My helpout
    guy is Jack Cantori I
    flopped her back down and closed my eyesI might
    have heard that faint sigh from the Gulf for
    another ten or fifteen seconds
    I slept until sundownIt was the deepest, most
    satisfying sleep I'd had in eight months
    83
    v
    I had done no more than nibble on the plane, and
    consequently woke up ravenousI did a dozen heelslides
    instead of the usual twenty-five to loosen
    my hip, made a quick trip to the bathroom, then
    lurched toward the kitchenI was leaning on my
    crutch, but not as heavily as I might have
    expected, given the length of my napMy plan was
    to make myself a sandwich, maybe twoI hoped for
    sliced bologna, but reckoned any lunchmeat I found
    in the prada fairy fridge would be okayI'd call Ilse after I
    ate and tell her I'd arrived safelyIlse could be
    depended upon to e-mail everyone else with an
    interest in the welfare of Edgar FreemantleThen
    I could take tonight's dose of pain medication and
    explore the rest of my new environmentThe whole
    second floor awaited
    What my plan hadn't taken into account was how the
    westward view had changed
    The sun was gone, but there was still a brilliant
    orange band above the flat line of the GulfIt
    was broken in only one place, by the silhouette of
    some large shipIts shape was as simple as a
    84
    first-grader's drawingA cable stretched taut
    from the bow to what I assumed was the radio tower,
    creating a triangle of lightAs that light skied
    upward, orange faded to a breathless Maxfield
    Parrish blue-green that I had never seen buy chanel bags before
    with my own eyesand yet I had a sense of déja
    vu, as if maybe I had seen it, in my dreamsMaybe
    we all see skies like that in our dreams, and our
    waking minds can never quite translate them into
    colors that have names
    Above, in the deepening black, the first stars
    I was no longer hungry, and no longer wanted to
    call IlseAll I wanted to do was draw what I was
    looking atI knew I couldn't get all of it, but I
    didn't care - that was the beauty partI didn't
    give Shit One
    My new employee (for a moment I blanked on his
    name again, then I thought Weather Channel, then I
    thought Jack: case fuckin closed) had put my
    knapsack of art supplies in the second bedroomI
    flailed my way out to the Florida room with it,
    carrying it awkwardly and trying to use my crutch
    at the same timeA mildly curious breeze omega olympic watch lifted
    my hairThe idea that such a breeze and snow in
    85
    StPaul might exist at the same time, in the same
    world, seemed absurd to me - science fiction
    I set the sack down on the long, rough wooden
    table, thought about snapping on a light, and
    decided against itI would draw until I couldn't
    see to draw, and then call it a nightI sat in my
    awkward fashion, unzipped the bag, pulled out my
    padARTISAN, it said on the frontGiven the
    level of my current skills, that was a jokeI
    grubbed deeper and brought out my box of colored
    pencils
    I drew and colored quickly, hardly looking at what
    I was doingI shaded up from an arbitrary
    horizon-line, stroking my Venus Yellow from side
    to side with wild abandon, sometimes going over
    the ship (it would be the first tanker in the
    world to come down with yellow jaundice, coco chanel jewelry I
    reckoned) and not caringWhen I had the sunset
    band to what seemed like the right depth - it was
    dying fast now - I grabbed the orange and shaded
    more, and heavierThen I went back to the ship,
    not thinking, just putting a series of angular
    black lines on my paper
    When I was done, it was almost full dark
    86
    To the left, the three palms clattered
    Below and beyond me - but not so far beyond now,
    the tide was coming back in - the Gulf of Mexico
    sighed, as if it had had a long day and there was
    more work to do yet
    Overhead there were now thousands of stars, and
    more appearing even as I looked
    This was here all the time, I thought, and
    recalled something Melinda used to say when she
    heard a song she really liked on the radio: It had
    me from helloBelow my rudimentary tanker, I
    scratched the word HELLO in small chanel jumbo let

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