The Week Before Tahiti

In port Papeete, Tahiti. I've made friends. I'm considering running for mayor of the marina, maybe the entire island.

In 4 days I'm in love with as many women; commandeered the liquor on as many yachts; traded as many pearls for Marlboros. Admittedly, on only one occasion did I wake up in a dingy. All is right in the world (a “return to normalcy” to borrow the phrase). I would say this to every crewman and captain in the harbor, if I could just retire this incessant grin.

This grin, this glee, can only be illuminated by an email I wrote to Sister Katie a week before:

"Dear Katie,

I've been begging for emails. My thoughts, uninterrupted by those of anyone else for over a month, have reached the bitter-end. Only a simple soliloquy strolls its circumlocutory path around my mind. I want all at once to be drinking Jon's booze on the lawn; sitting in Santelli's good seats; at Friday Lunch Bunch; crashing fundraisers and cocktail parties in scuffed Ferragamos-- pocketing all the beef-wellington because I can't afford dinner.

I miss waking up wondering where I put my car, how I'll get home, and where I put my damn Rolaids. Instead I've watched the sunrise everyday this week-- without a pocket full of ATM receipts. There is no story there. I've lost weight, don't smoke, don't drink, breath deeply after refreshing, dream filled sleep. I might as well go to church, floss, watch “must see TV”, develop accountability and monogamy.

I'm young, all my plumbing still works, I can read in the dark, I still imagine myself as one day successful and famous. Alobar has stymied the volition of my youth. After the crossing this vessel became a retirement home. I read “The ABC's of Bridge” after a 4 p.m. cabbage and vinegar dinner. I crossed an ocean for no other reason than the story. Now, I must get back to tell it. I am profoundly home-sick.

We have arrived at the atoll of Manihi. An impossible creation where coral heads breach the ocean, crumble, congeal. Inhabited only by palms-trees and people. A calm lagoon lies within the collar, outside waves arrive angrily. The ocean must be surprised after traveling across so many miles of nothing. Of this nothing I am acutely aware. Paradise has been pronounced a secluded beach where the worries of work and the rush of life are banished for a time. It is right here. However I rarely work, and rarely worry about important things. So I have only found a secluded beach.
- Your Bro"