We ran miles tonight around Castle Island. The sea looked like sky and the sky looked like dust, but it was fog. Huge airplanes would come roaring out of the clouds, flying lower than usual out of necessity. You could almost see through the windows of the Lufthansa flight, eye-to-eye with the middle-aged men and the young women in uncomfortable shoes and no jackets. All the other planes were standing by on the runway, which we could see from the dock. Neon white-blue lights flashed off each plane, pulsing in a quick line. I imagine the passengers had become anxious, all that waiting. What I didn’t imagine was Belgium, or Spain, or Jordan or Mozambique, Cambodia or Fiji or Austria, though I would have liked to be headed to all of them.
The ITCH is coming back — perhaps because I haven’t left the country in three years. I can feel it though, and it’s like the calm before the storm, although tonight the storm never arrived. We just ran and ran around the bay, ate baked scrod at the Fish Pier, bought strawberries at Stop & Shop until we noticed the clouds had completely dissipated. But I’m serious about the ITCH; it’s like a freight train. It’s going to hit soon, and I’m going to freak out and give away all my possessions again and hop on a Lufthansa or Singapore Airlines plane with my new backpack and a few key pieces of technological and AV equipment, and that’s the last you’ll see of me for at least five years. Then Tapioca World Tour will once again earn its title. You think I’m joking but I’m totally not.
In the meantime, DD & I are starting a virtual band: BUBBY. We will exist only on the internet, our music recorded all via GarageBand. It’s an experiment to see how big we can get without actually existing as a musical entity. I love turning nothing into something.