I noticed that my vinyl shower curtain was limp today, it's plastic slightly warm, a little more pliable in my hands. I intended to take a cool shower, to alleviate the heat of the day, but the water pressure in my building denied me my desired amount of cool water, leaving me with a quite warm shower instead.
I went to the craft store today, so that I could buy materials to paint with. I was recently given three tubes of acrylic paint, and have been itching to use them.
At the store, the woman at the counter where the bags are checked was busy with another customer and told me to check my own bag, pointing towards a free clip with two identical tags locked in it. I felt a small thrill of freedom as I stepped behind the counter with one foot, and attached the clip and one tag to my bag, taking the other tag to put in my pocket.
I shopped for awhile, thinking about the four things I knew I wanted. The first item, they were out of, and the second item, a new pen, they were nearly out of as well. Actually their selection of pens is diverse, but the brand that I like was mostly gone. I settled on blue pen.
Next, I needed a cheap palette and a brush.
Found the palette easily. $.49; I bought two.
The brush took longer. Their brushes cost from $4-$60 and I took awhile finding the cheapest brush that I liked. As the act of painting came tangibly closer to occurring, I decided that I wanted some more color too, and bought two more tubes: ivory black and cobalt violet.
I went back to the counter to pay, and an oriental man was buying a few things. His facial features, hair, and accent seemed Japanese to me, but I've often been wrong before. I watched him pay and thought about asking him. I thought about what I would say to him. Atsui desu ne? (It's hot outside, yes?) Or: Hajimemashite. (Pleased to meet you.) Perhaps he's in a hurry, and I'd put him in a situation where it would be impolite to rush off, but would make him stressed and quick to end any conversation we might have. There's always something to worry about, isn't there?
I felt hungry, and opted to not attempt waylaying him.
He left, nearly forgetting his change, and it was my turn to pay. My bill came to $20, twice what I planned on. Next time, I won't plan.
I accepted my things, declining a bag, as I'd brought my own that was waiting for me behind the counter. I moved to retrieve bag myself, but was disappointed as she beat me to it.
I thanked her, left, and rode the train home.
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Monday, May 29, 2006
Hot
It's become hot, here. Very hot, and all at once, coupled with a thick and cloying humidity. I have been dripping sweat for days now. Summer has ensconced Chicago in heat, and I welcome it.
I have a cold beer and a glass of ice water in front of me. At a BBQ last night, I made tequila sunrises for people and napped on a porch after eating a huge meal.
I've been reading Raymond Carver and Stephen Baxter and I just finished an amazing book about pygmies.
Sleeping has become a strange and warm affair since the weather lost the humility that it maintains through the chillier parts of a Chicago spring. My dreams have turned sweaty, and my mornings have been sunny, disconcerting things; my alarm buzzing rhythmically from the direction of creeping sunlight. My dream state has been interrupted too abruptly, two mornings in a row now. The heat slows my mind while the humidity fogs it. I cannot say right now, with exactness, where the dream ends and reality begins. I don't mind it, though. The days and the nights continue. I'll write this and go to sleep. Tomorrow I will wake without an alarm. Good night.
I have a cold beer and a glass of ice water in front of me. At a BBQ last night, I made tequila sunrises for people and napped on a porch after eating a huge meal.
I've been reading Raymond Carver and Stephen Baxter and I just finished an amazing book about pygmies.
Sleeping has become a strange and warm affair since the weather lost the humility that it maintains through the chillier parts of a Chicago spring. My dreams have turned sweaty, and my mornings have been sunny, disconcerting things; my alarm buzzing rhythmically from the direction of creeping sunlight. My dream state has been interrupted too abruptly, two mornings in a row now. The heat slows my mind while the humidity fogs it. I cannot say right now, with exactness, where the dream ends and reality begins. I don't mind it, though. The days and the nights continue. I'll write this and go to sleep. Tomorrow I will wake without an alarm. Good night.
Saturday, May 27, 2006
Ragged Things
...into air, back up so high for a moment and then back down again, but to a different place. Perhaps we'll go out to the island and watch the moon for a bit and listen to the monsters dance and sing. The demon lovers rest on a rock beyond the tide and melt like magma upon one another.
We rest and think about the queens out buried in the trees, behind the walls. Workers hurrying in both the light and the night. They are busy and the queens wait. We could wait forever on the shore, watching the signals flare out from the other islands. Not ignoring them, but letting them exist with us. It is a reverent thing, in the glinting lights, the loud and whimsical singing, the lone spot of moon overhead, crying like a virgin, seeping translucence.
Quick, as quick as we can. The light is faster and the shore does not end. The islands do not open until the end when it is already too late. The light fades and I am high again, looking around, waiting.
We rest and think about the queens out buried in the trees, behind the walls. Workers hurrying in both the light and the night. They are busy and the queens wait. We could wait forever on the shore, watching the signals flare out from the other islands. Not ignoring them, but letting them exist with us. It is a reverent thing, in the glinting lights, the loud and whimsical singing, the lone spot of moon overhead, crying like a virgin, seeping translucence.
Quick, as quick as we can. The light is faster and the shore does not end. The islands do not open until the end when it is already too late. The light fades and I am high again, looking around, waiting.
Friday, May 26, 2006
I'll be honest
I'm a pirate.
Not the kind of pirate that lives on ships and secret fortresses. I don't pillage towns and carry off women with me in my ship. I don't capture ships to steal their gold, and I don't fly a jolly roger from my mast.
I tried living that way for awhile, but I didn't like it. I nearly lost an eye, and I only finished paying the medical bill for it last month.
I do, however, pirate bandwidth.
When I moved into my apartment, I planned on not having the internet, in order to save money, but when I connected my wireless adapter, I discovered an unencrypted network with a good signal. I was connected to the internet, and for the first time in 8 years, I wasn't paying for it.
Too good to be true?
Sometimes. I had no connection for the last eight days, and just when I was getting excited about blogging every day again. Oh well.
I don't feel at all bad about using this bandwidth. People rarely use their connection to it's full capacity, it's more efficient to share. I'm not greedy in my use of it. When I download or upload, I limit my speeds. I don't want to choke their connection. If I could figure out where the signal was coming from, I would be willing to pay part or half the bill, in exchange for, perhaps, moving their router closer to the window.
For now though, I just mercifully thank the unseen soul that has left their network unencrypted. Thank you thank you thank you for the months of internet connection.
Not the kind of pirate that lives on ships and secret fortresses. I don't pillage towns and carry off women with me in my ship. I don't capture ships to steal their gold, and I don't fly a jolly roger from my mast.
I tried living that way for awhile, but I didn't like it. I nearly lost an eye, and I only finished paying the medical bill for it last month.
I do, however, pirate bandwidth.
When I moved into my apartment, I planned on not having the internet, in order to save money, but when I connected my wireless adapter, I discovered an unencrypted network with a good signal. I was connected to the internet, and for the first time in 8 years, I wasn't paying for it.
Too good to be true?
Sometimes. I had no connection for the last eight days, and just when I was getting excited about blogging every day again. Oh well.
I don't feel at all bad about using this bandwidth. People rarely use their connection to it's full capacity, it's more efficient to share. I'm not greedy in my use of it. When I download or upload, I limit my speeds. I don't want to choke their connection. If I could figure out where the signal was coming from, I would be willing to pay part or half the bill, in exchange for, perhaps, moving their router closer to the window.
For now though, I just mercifully thank the unseen soul that has left their network unencrypted. Thank you thank you thank you for the months of internet connection.
Thursday, May 18, 2006
Rabbit
A few days ago, I was walking home at night. In a small patch of greenery to my right I saw a rabbit. It did not move, and it's eyes were wide open.
As I passed, I wondered if I could be quick enough to catch it; I was already very close.
I read a book once (or saw a movie?) which explained how to kill a captured rabbit.
I pictured myself holding the rabbit's head in my hand, and swinging the body around my head like a sling with a stone in it, breaking the rabbits neck. I didn't have any plastic bags with me so I thought that I would just hold it under my jacket; it was dark, and I was only a short distance at home.
Then I thought about what I would do with it. I pictured myself in front of the sink, and thought about which of my knives I would use. I would need to slit the arteries in it's neck, so I would probably use my smaller, serrated steak knife. Then I would tie it's feet and hang it over the sink to let the blood drain out. That done, I would need to gut it next. I thought about a vertical slit on it's belly from it's neck to it's groin, but I would need to not cut into the digestive tract, to keep from contaminating the meat. I would probably have needed to look up the anatomy of a rabbit online.
I remember working at a grocery store in Utah. I'd been feeling a little pointless, and started thinking that I might want to join a big brother program.
The next day, a boy came into the store and started talking to me. And kept talking to me. He stayed for 3 hours that day, just talking to me. I was mystified by how quickly I'd found a little brother.
One day he went fishing and brought me a small cooler packed with ice. Inside, were three tiny bass, and a catfish.
I took them home and put them in the sink. I'd never gutted a fish. He'd told me briefly what to do, and I started by scraping off the scales with a knife. Then I gutted each of the fish, their slimy and tubular entrails slapping down into my metallic sink. It was... strange, and when I finished I had 8 little fillets of fish.
I didn't try to catch the rabbit. I walked past it and went home. The brutality required to catch and kill my own food is not required of me where I live, but the knowledge of what does happen to allow me to eat some of my meals, lingers at the periphery of my thoughts.
I can say, though, that the fillets I separated from the bodies of those fish were extra delicious.
As I passed, I wondered if I could be quick enough to catch it; I was already very close.
I read a book once (or saw a movie?) which explained how to kill a captured rabbit.
I pictured myself holding the rabbit's head in my hand, and swinging the body around my head like a sling with a stone in it, breaking the rabbits neck. I didn't have any plastic bags with me so I thought that I would just hold it under my jacket; it was dark, and I was only a short distance at home.
Then I thought about what I would do with it. I pictured myself in front of the sink, and thought about which of my knives I would use. I would need to slit the arteries in it's neck, so I would probably use my smaller, serrated steak knife. Then I would tie it's feet and hang it over the sink to let the blood drain out. That done, I would need to gut it next. I thought about a vertical slit on it's belly from it's neck to it's groin, but I would need to not cut into the digestive tract, to keep from contaminating the meat. I would probably have needed to look up the anatomy of a rabbit online.
I remember working at a grocery store in Utah. I'd been feeling a little pointless, and started thinking that I might want to join a big brother program.
The next day, a boy came into the store and started talking to me. And kept talking to me. He stayed for 3 hours that day, just talking to me. I was mystified by how quickly I'd found a little brother.
One day he went fishing and brought me a small cooler packed with ice. Inside, were three tiny bass, and a catfish.
I took them home and put them in the sink. I'd never gutted a fish. He'd told me briefly what to do, and I started by scraping off the scales with a knife. Then I gutted each of the fish, their slimy and tubular entrails slapping down into my metallic sink. It was... strange, and when I finished I had 8 little fillets of fish.
I didn't try to catch the rabbit. I walked past it and went home. The brutality required to catch and kill my own food is not required of me where I live, but the knowledge of what does happen to allow me to eat some of my meals, lingers at the periphery of my thoughts.
I can say, though, that the fillets I separated from the bodies of those fish were extra delicious.
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
Hail
A large low limb had been cut from a tree at the edge of a park in Salt Lake City, Utah. The pattern of rings in the cut caught the eye of someone. That person told someone else, and soon, a small shrine had sprung up at the base of the tree. A set of wooden stairs with a platform was built to allow easier viewing of the pattern.
Walking up that short staircase, you would pass dozens of prayer candles and bouquets of flowers, all renewed weekly, if not daily. At the top of stairs, you would have a clear and close-up view of the pattern. I don't know what you would see there.
What I saw, was a shape formed by the rings in the wood that could be interpreted as feminine. It could have been a feminine figure with a shaded hint of a cowl over her head. It could have been the Virgin Mary, as all of the candle lighters and bouquet refreshers said it was.
I have heard that the most important word in your language is your own name. When I am in a public place and amidst other people, I often hear my name, and things pertaining to my life, spoken of by people that turn out to be strangers. I hear what I want to hear sometimes.
In an underpass on the north side of Chicago, a stain formed from dripping water, on what looks to be a patched portion of the concrete wall. The stain contained a pattern that somebody recognized, and word of it spread. Now there are prayer candles and fresh bouquets of flowers. A ceramic statue of Jesus rests beneath the stain; the head is broken off, but a drawing of Jesus rests in the hole.
Again, the pattern is reminiscently feminine; the shape of a cowl could be suggested, and one eye seems to have white flecks around the iris.
It could be the Virgin Mary.
It could be a stain on a wall.
I don't really know what it is, but I do know that I'll never be able to see it the same way anyone else does.
Walking up that short staircase, you would pass dozens of prayer candles and bouquets of flowers, all renewed weekly, if not daily. At the top of stairs, you would have a clear and close-up view of the pattern. I don't know what you would see there.
What I saw, was a shape formed by the rings in the wood that could be interpreted as feminine. It could have been a feminine figure with a shaded hint of a cowl over her head. It could have been the Virgin Mary, as all of the candle lighters and bouquet refreshers said it was.
I have heard that the most important word in your language is your own name. When I am in a public place and amidst other people, I often hear my name, and things pertaining to my life, spoken of by people that turn out to be strangers. I hear what I want to hear sometimes.
In an underpass on the north side of Chicago, a stain formed from dripping water, on what looks to be a patched portion of the concrete wall. The stain contained a pattern that somebody recognized, and word of it spread. Now there are prayer candles and fresh bouquets of flowers. A ceramic statue of Jesus rests beneath the stain; the head is broken off, but a drawing of Jesus rests in the hole.
Again, the pattern is reminiscently feminine; the shape of a cowl could be suggested, and one eye seems to have white flecks around the iris.
It could be the Virgin Mary.
It could be a stain on a wall.
I don't really know what it is, but I do know that I'll never be able to see it the same way anyone else does.
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Gambling
My gambling strategy for video black jack.
Insert $20 into the machine.
Bet 5¢ on the first hand.
Lose.
Bet 10¢ on the next hand.
Lose.
Bet 20¢.
Lose.
Bet 40¢.
Lose.
Bet 80¢.
Lose.
Bet $1.75. (There was no way to bet $1.60 on that machine.)
Lose.
Bet $3.50.
Lose.
Bet $7.00.
Lose.
Feed another $20 bill into the machine and bet $14.00.
Lose.
Feed another $20 bill into the machine and bet $28.00.
Lose.
Take a deep breath. If you smoke, light a cigarette and take a couple drags.
Feed $60 into the machine in whatever denominations you have and bet $56.00.
Lose.
Laugh and cry loudly and take your Gin & Tonic from the cocktail waitress.
Take your remaining $8.20 and play very conservatively until you have had at least $111.80 worth of free drinks from the waitresses.
Then walk carefully to your room, and go to sleep.
Insert $20 into the machine.
Bet 5¢ on the first hand.
Lose.
Bet 10¢ on the next hand.
Lose.
Bet 20¢.
Lose.
Bet 40¢.
Lose.
Bet 80¢.
Lose.
Bet $1.75. (There was no way to bet $1.60 on that machine.)
Lose.
Bet $3.50.
Lose.
Bet $7.00.
Lose.
Feed another $20 bill into the machine and bet $14.00.
Lose.
Feed another $20 bill into the machine and bet $28.00.
Lose.
Take a deep breath. If you smoke, light a cigarette and take a couple drags.
Feed $60 into the machine in whatever denominations you have and bet $56.00.
Lose.
Laugh and cry loudly and take your Gin & Tonic from the cocktail waitress.
Take your remaining $8.20 and play very conservatively until you have had at least $111.80 worth of free drinks from the waitresses.
Then walk carefully to your room, and go to sleep.
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
Hare Krishna
Walking on the street, I heard singing from up ahead. I looked and saw a procession of people in robes and heard a familiar sound:
"Hare Krishna hare rama hare krishna hare rama..." Hare Krishna.
The man leading wore a purple robe and carried a drum slung over his shoulder. He was bald and smiling and singing while beating his drum. About 10 people followed behind, walking at a merry(?) pace. Most of them wore the robes common to Hare Krishnas all over the world, including a woman walking slightly behind the drummer, carrying a small amplifier and microphone and singing into it. They all appeared quite friendly and happy. At the end of the procession, a woman dressed in a business suit that looked more appropriate for walking in the Loop than trotting after a group of Hare Krishnas handed me a photocopied pamphlet and a baggy of popcorn. I thanked her and continued on my way.
A while ago, I attended a bible group meeting in their assembly building. It was a small group and they were all very friendly. They mostly seemed happy to be there and wanted others there to share in that happiness. There were grapes and there was pizza and one girl had baked cookies and brought them; all this food was shared among anyone who wished to partake. The cookies were very good.
When I was in elementary school, I stayed the night with a friend and his mother and sister at their apartment in my neighborhood. They were very poor, as poor as my mother and I were. When I awoke in the morning, my friend told me that we were all going to the local Mormon ward for breakfast because they offered donuts to anyone who came. I walked with them, but instead of going to the ward, I walked home.
-
The pamphlet I received from the Hare Krishnas lays on the table next to my door. I ate the popcorn a few days later. It satisfied my hunger while I prepared a larger meal.
"Hare Krishna hare rama hare krishna hare rama..." Hare Krishna.
The man leading wore a purple robe and carried a drum slung over his shoulder. He was bald and smiling and singing while beating his drum. About 10 people followed behind, walking at a merry(?) pace. Most of them wore the robes common to Hare Krishnas all over the world, including a woman walking slightly behind the drummer, carrying a small amplifier and microphone and singing into it. They all appeared quite friendly and happy. At the end of the procession, a woman dressed in a business suit that looked more appropriate for walking in the Loop than trotting after a group of Hare Krishnas handed me a photocopied pamphlet and a baggy of popcorn. I thanked her and continued on my way.
A while ago, I attended a bible group meeting in their assembly building. It was a small group and they were all very friendly. They mostly seemed happy to be there and wanted others there to share in that happiness. There were grapes and there was pizza and one girl had baked cookies and brought them; all this food was shared among anyone who wished to partake. The cookies were very good.
When I was in elementary school, I stayed the night with a friend and his mother and sister at their apartment in my neighborhood. They were very poor, as poor as my mother and I were. When I awoke in the morning, my friend told me that we were all going to the local Mormon ward for breakfast because they offered donuts to anyone who came. I walked with them, but instead of going to the ward, I walked home.
-
The pamphlet I received from the Hare Krishnas lays on the table next to my door. I ate the popcorn a few days later. It satisfied my hunger while I prepared a larger meal.
Sunday, May 07, 2006
reaper collecting, widow weeping, banker counting
Shots were heard.
A window smashed.
I'll never sleep as well as I used to.
The night she died, I'd drunk four cups of coffee and a six pack of beer.
I peed the bed and woke myself.
I laid there for a long time, contemplating my predicament as she lay asleep beside me. Then I noticed the broken glass on the floor, and the blood on the windowpane.
And the blood on the floor. The blood on the blanket.
Only after that, did I notice that she was not sleeping.
She lay on her back, above the blankets, and she was cold when I put my hand on her naked belly; her mouth open and slack, a small worm wriggled in one eye socket.
The blood on the floor was very old.
I noticed the smell, and sat up fast, waking as I did so.
Waking up in my bed,
and my apartment,
and alone.
The worm wriggled in the back of my mind as I got up to pee.
A window smashed.
I'll never sleep as well as I used to.
The night she died, I'd drunk four cups of coffee and a six pack of beer.
I peed the bed and woke myself.
I laid there for a long time, contemplating my predicament as she lay asleep beside me. Then I noticed the broken glass on the floor, and the blood on the windowpane.
And the blood on the floor. The blood on the blanket.
Only after that, did I notice that she was not sleeping.
She lay on her back, above the blankets, and she was cold when I put my hand on her naked belly; her mouth open and slack, a small worm wriggled in one eye socket.
The blood on the floor was very old.
I noticed the smell, and sat up fast, waking as I did so.
Waking up in my bed,
and my apartment,
and alone.
The worm wriggled in the back of my mind as I got up to pee.
Monday, May 01, 2006
Water
"Want to go jump in the river? " Ethan asked.
"Yes," Jason replied, though a little shiver of hesitancy trembled through him.
"Is it shallow enough for me to touch bottom? Because you know I can't swim. Well, I can sort of swim, but only for a few feet, and only underwater."
"Oh yeah, you'll be fine. You jump in and you can touch bottom right afterward."
Ethan drove them for awhile through the small town, and, coming to a park, parked the car. They got out and walked along train tracks alongside the river until they came to the spot. There was a short embankment to climb down, and then a short wade through the river to get to a big rock. From this big rock, Jason understood that he was to jump into the river and then swim a very short distance back towards the shore and the shallows.
Wearing swimming trunks, they both waded out to the rock and climbed up on top. Ethan explained to Jason where he should jump into the water. The river ran downstream at a medium speed, but as it hit the large rock, swirling vortexes of water formed, creating a barrier between the shallow area that the rock protected and the rest of the river. Ethan explained that he should jump just to the left of the swirling water, but into a spot that was still deep. From there, it was a short swim into the shallows.
Jason felt that he could do it, and stood for awhile on the edge of the rock, staring down into the swirls and currents. The wind was cold, and the water was colder, but the sun shone hotly down on them.
"You can go first, and then I can jump after you if I need to,” Ethan told him.
"Are you a fast swimmer?” Ethan asked, imagining himself floating down the river and full of water.
"Yeah,” Ethan said.
"Good. If you see me go under, then come in after me."
Jason stood there and took several deep breaths, stood a moment longer, looking from the water to the shore, and jumped.
He hit the water and went under with a splash. As soon as he was in it, he stretched out his body towards where he thought the shore was. He put his hands in front of him and tried a breaststroke, but he flopped around a lot; his body was not moving well in the rhythm of the river. He felt the breath he took up on the rock straining in his lungs. He let his feet down, hoping for solid ground, but felt only water. His mouth opened a little bit, and he felt some water enter; he swallowed, rather than breath it in. He had a sore throat that day, and the cool water was a slight relief.
He suddenly found his head above water, but hadn't fully exhaled his first breath completely. He took in what air he could, and saw that the shore was no closer.
Then he went under again. A little more water entered his mouth, and he swallowed it again. He tried swimming forward more, straining his arms against the water. His head came up again and he yelled, "help!"
He went under again, and strained more, but it was no good.
When he came up again, Ethan was there. Jason got his arm over his shoulders and said, "Help me."
Ethan started paddling for the shallows, his face scrunched up, supporting both their weights.
They made it to the shallows and separated.
"Did you swallow any water,” Ethan asked him.
"Yeah,” Jason said, breathing fast and hard. "But I didn't breathe any in. Only a little bit. "
He coughed and looked back at the water squinting.
He didn't feel cold.
He didn't feel warm.
He just felt not dead.
"Yes," Jason replied, though a little shiver of hesitancy trembled through him.
"Is it shallow enough for me to touch bottom? Because you know I can't swim. Well, I can sort of swim, but only for a few feet, and only underwater."
"Oh yeah, you'll be fine. You jump in and you can touch bottom right afterward."
Ethan drove them for awhile through the small town, and, coming to a park, parked the car. They got out and walked along train tracks alongside the river until they came to the spot. There was a short embankment to climb down, and then a short wade through the river to get to a big rock. From this big rock, Jason understood that he was to jump into the river and then swim a very short distance back towards the shore and the shallows.
Wearing swimming trunks, they both waded out to the rock and climbed up on top. Ethan explained to Jason where he should jump into the water. The river ran downstream at a medium speed, but as it hit the large rock, swirling vortexes of water formed, creating a barrier between the shallow area that the rock protected and the rest of the river. Ethan explained that he should jump just to the left of the swirling water, but into a spot that was still deep. From there, it was a short swim into the shallows.
Jason felt that he could do it, and stood for awhile on the edge of the rock, staring down into the swirls and currents. The wind was cold, and the water was colder, but the sun shone hotly down on them.
"You can go first, and then I can jump after you if I need to,” Ethan told him.
"Are you a fast swimmer?” Ethan asked, imagining himself floating down the river and full of water.
"Yeah,” Ethan said.
"Good. If you see me go under, then come in after me."
Jason stood there and took several deep breaths, stood a moment longer, looking from the water to the shore, and jumped.
He hit the water and went under with a splash. As soon as he was in it, he stretched out his body towards where he thought the shore was. He put his hands in front of him and tried a breaststroke, but he flopped around a lot; his body was not moving well in the rhythm of the river. He felt the breath he took up on the rock straining in his lungs. He let his feet down, hoping for solid ground, but felt only water. His mouth opened a little bit, and he felt some water enter; he swallowed, rather than breath it in. He had a sore throat that day, and the cool water was a slight relief.
He suddenly found his head above water, but hadn't fully exhaled his first breath completely. He took in what air he could, and saw that the shore was no closer.
Then he went under again. A little more water entered his mouth, and he swallowed it again. He tried swimming forward more, straining his arms against the water. His head came up again and he yelled, "help!"
He went under again, and strained more, but it was no good.
When he came up again, Ethan was there. Jason got his arm over his shoulders and said, "Help me."
Ethan started paddling for the shallows, his face scrunched up, supporting both their weights.
They made it to the shallows and separated.
"Did you swallow any water,” Ethan asked him.
"Yeah,” Jason said, breathing fast and hard. "But I didn't breathe any in. Only a little bit. "
He coughed and looked back at the water squinting.
He didn't feel cold.
He didn't feel warm.
He just felt not dead.
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