Headlands

I'm in nothing but my white boxer briefs again after a shower, slouching on the brown suede couch. The whir of the oscillating fan in the corner. It's twilight and flux has interjected a light pink to my laptop screen. Earlier work had me pacing and swearing nonsensically under my breath but I am attuning myself to relaxed thoughts and deceleration.

This afternoon I went for a hike alone in the Marin Headlands, a two mile coastal loop that spit me out right by the Marine Mammal Center where they rehabilitate seals and sea lions. The place is run by volunteers who prepare their food and medicine, and the animals are kept in separate enclosures with small pools, many so sick they hardly stir or bleat. They ask that you be quiet when you get up on the second floor to watch them in their cages.

Last night on the radio I heard about a woman from New Zealand who just swam from the Farallon Islands to the Golden Gate. The islands are 30 miles from the bridge. All day the bay has been full of haze from the Berryessa wildfire but I could still see the Farallones faded in the distance.