I lay my ear to furious Latin.
I am not a Caesar.
I have simply ordered a box of maniacs.
They can be sent back.
They can die, I need feed them nothing, I am the owner.

I wonder how hungry they are.
I wonder if they would forget me
If I just undid the locks and stood back and turned into a tree.
There is the laburnum, its blond colonnades,
And the petticoats of the cherry.

They might ignore me immediately
In my moon suit and funeral veil.
I am no source of honey
So why should they turn on me?
Tomorrow I will be sweet God, I will set them free.

The box is only temporary.

Sylvia Plath
1932-1963.

Sunday
September 28, 1997
St Kilda

Something made me think the other day about a trip we all took over summer this year. Our partners in crime - M & S were taking their break down at Philip Island. Our presence was cordially requested, so we went down for a long weekend.

We did all the beachy, Philip Island kind of stuff - penguins, cowes, fishing, walk along the esplanade, eats, surf beaches. It is about one evening we spent at Cape Woolamai, a crashing thundering surf beach that my thoughts keep returning to. We'd all just eaten dinner at the Stonehouse Grill (or some-such - where they heat up chunks of granite to like 1000 degC and you chargrill your own meats etc on it), and we drove down to the end of a very long road and got out of our cars, and made our way down to the beach. There were a lot of other people there, so we walked some way down the beach and set out our towels and blankets and lay down. It really was a beautiful night, stars and warm breeze and the tingling salt spray. We talked a lot, pondered the nature of life, death and everything in between. Aside from any of this we were witness to the most amazing phenomenon.

As our eyes adjusted to the dark, lit only by a crescent moon and the perfectly visible milky way, our focus turned to the waves. The tide was encroaching, so had to be carefully monitored by eyes keenly trained on the water so we could keep our feet dry. Before our eyes the crashing waves brought up to the shore, on each lapping return, millions of little marine creatures. Millions of tiny, little, glowing, phosphorescing marine creatures. As they washed up on the shore, the friction of water over sand charged up these little "things" and set them aglow. Like hundreds of little fairy lights, lit only for a few seconds, renewed with each wave.

Soon the tide had chased us high onto the dunes, conversation slowed and we were ready to set off home. We'll go back there this year to see if they're still there.

Lazy day at home today. Scott played golf, visited his parents. Filled them in on his imminent relocation. I washed dishes, painted my toenails RED, touched up my hair, finished my latest book. I also spend many hours sitting in front of this screen, trauling the web, catching up on old friends, finding a few new bright stars and thinking about where I'm headed.