everyone I know is acting weird or way too cool

Last night I dreamed I was in hell. This is not an uncommon occurrence. Hell had a lot of bureaucracy. My old teacher S was there. He had a beard and looked older. I woke up thinking about him and wanting to make peace. He was such an important part of my life. Then he joined a cult-like group and moved away to the east coast with his new girlfriend, and I haven't heard from him in years. Maybe I should write him a letter--I think I still have his address. Or maybe I should let sleeping dogs lie. He probably wouldn't like to hear from me. When I think of him, I think about failure. Something about our relationship missed the mark. I remember nights driving home from poetry readings, how safe I felt in his car. I remember when he loaned me his jacket. I remember sharing a piece of cake at a cafe in San Luis. Nowadays, he would get in so much trouble for having me over at his house just the two of us, when I was 16 and 17. Really, what were we thinking? Nothing ever happened between us, but maybe he wanted it to. I don't really know what was going through his mind. We were so important to one another for so long, and now nothing.

Yesterday Erik and I went to Montana de Oro. We walked on a trail to a nameless beach. I think we called it Slant Slab Crab Castle. I wrote a letter to E while Erik looked at tidepools. I sat in the sand and tried not to be bothered by the people. I looked at rocks and studied the sand, which was tiny bits of shell and rock.

Then we drove to a place called Sandspit. The beach is down a trail, and fewer people were there. It was a huge beach and reminded us of Guadalupe beach. Some kids played in the water, and I wondered if it was safe. I guess there were no signs saying it wasn't. I wrote a letter to my friend L in LA.

Then we went to Avila to the pier so Erik could look at seals. He loves seals. He took some pictures I might post tomorrow. Tomorrow we work a one day job. I should go to bed.

Today we drove home. It was exhausting. The drive home is always harder than the drive there.

Home, our good friend A in Portland chatted with me, telling me that he and his wife are splitting up for real after nine months of trying to mend things after his wife had an affair with a neighbor. They went through three marriage counselors, but it's over now, and he's glad, so I'm glad.