July 5

Hiked the Triple Lake trail down off of Parks Highway, the smoke thicker today from the two proximate fires—a subtly beautiful hike (subtle by Alaska standards, I should say) rimming, unsurprisingly, three lakes tucked behind the Nenana River. Afterwards, went to Glitter Gulch for a few groceries, trying to linger to reduce the amount of time I have to spend in Roy’s presence today. I am on edge always around him anymore. & on edge anyway. As is my habit during hikes, I talked to the air as I progressed, & found myself turning a knife in a selfsame wound over & over, wondering at the way we’ve cloven this rend between us, how we’ve struck the maul ourselves & balked at the splitting, some after-fright at its violence, some haunting by its echo. & how I tire anymore of writing these same things ad infinitum, turning, it seems, to the same sickly bough to name its few pendant leaves time & again, trying out the same languid syllables on my tongue, spitting them in a pitch already overburdened with the same. What shock in it? What efficacy in weighing my heart when I know its weight already? Only, I am full of distances. Heard in a song last night “I’ve got a long way to go, I’m getting further away,” & thought it kindred. How I fear, sometimes, that distance, or that willingness to distance. No specter of intimacy here, nor strand of connect, nor overlap, nor wired word. & even here, this cabin I avoid, this job where my voice rings radio-clear in a curt monotone, a bone banging down a staircase. I wait for comfort to find me & it does not come. I wait for some small surety to arise in me & it will not appear. I am fraying all over again. I think tomorrow but find the thinking slow. & so. This, now, the worst of it. & likely, then, the most generative. Leastwise I hope so.

Noticed this is the 100th post. Apologies.

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