les jeux sont faits

36 degrees in clearwater brighton today. the sand marbled, desertlike, by the constant northeasterly wind of winterbeach; a periscope near the ocean parkway jetty became a long-necked swan sailing in with the current. bright sun makes an enormous difference in the air temperature despite a frigid wind blasting patticaramelissacristianjonathanmichaelme, now a robust six playing penguin huddle-n-switch to escape the draft. melissa, cara, michael, then patti swim, emerging in burnt umber and fireorange red. our turn. the clarity is a welcome distraction from the absurdity. we need a new sport! j. shouts, again.

low tide and a crystal clear sea, nothing on the seafloor but shells and light reflected. i have more energy to swim when I don't sight madly for the sun. hands go numb, but my kick feels strong and it also keeps me warm. it took me nearly fifteen minutes after the swim to feel the cold hit my back-- long after everyone else was done shivering. I feel tired, but strong and acclimatised.

last night, on my way out to the earthrise record release party, a loud thump-- i had to crouch down to see what had fallen under Bubbie and Abie's highboy. a lump in the dark. smooth stone in my hand-- it was a rock, collected from a small beach on puget sound in seattle after a kelpyclear starfish swim in that strange cold green. the rock went in my pocket, and came out again on the train downtown. purple-maroon of rusty ships, glassy smooth, with striae of what appears to be granitegrey pumice caked with seaschmutz green. a beautiful, kidney-shaped conglomerate of rocks and ages, seas and lands, times and places and history, all in my palm.

early rehearsal tomorrow cuts into my last possible beach day-- this was it! next swim in chile. we're ready...

madames et monsieurs, les jeux sont faits.