The Mission

It has been 10 days? Two weeks? I simply do not know.

You know how people send you emails and ask you to choose the five books or albums you'd want if you were stranded on a desert island? Let me tell you, pick the books. There are no stereos on a desert island. Sometimes, I just start singing out loud so I don't forget what language sounds like. I am a single voice among the rocks and dusty red crabs singing "Alison, you know this world is killing you."

Right now, it is too hot to be outside. I spent all morning gathering crabs in the tidal pools and carrying them around in my clattering duffel bag that washed up right along side me. The tag on the bag says "Terrence Morris, 35 Red Deer Way, Muskie OK" He must have been a tourist on the ship. Thanks for the bag, Terry. I'd be a lot hungrier with out your unknowing assistance.

I found this trailer home up on the dunes yesterday. I have no idea how I'd missed it. I wondered if this meant salvation for me. If there was someone there with a phone. If there was someone there with a voice. I yelled, "Hello?" No answer. Was I delirious? Why the fuck would there be a trailer home on an island in the middle of the ocean. I walked closer, fully expecting it to disappear like a mirage in an old Bugs Bunny cartoon.

It's really here. I'm writing this from inside right now. It smells moldy. There are squishy spots in the brown industrial carpet. And I'm sure there are leaks in the roof, but I couldn't care less right now. I can lay down in the shade and rest.

The trailer is two rooms. One is a bedroom, with a small cot, a small wooden TV tray and a dresser full of men's clothes. There is no way to identify the man who once lived here. I can tell you that he favored cargo shorts and old Banana Republic shirts from the late 80's. A single outfit for this guy must have had 10-15 pockets between the shirt and shorts. I'm not sure what he was carrying around in all of them.

The second room is a classroom. An old fashioned blackboard at the front, three chalk erasers. The board reads "Rev. Dale Hale". (Who does that to a kid? There isn't a long form of Dale that I'm forgetting is there? I want to make sure that Mother and Father Hale were morons.) At the back is a low shelf running the length of the wall, with 6 copies of the Gideons Bible, a stack of reading primers and a crank metal Bostitch pencil sharpener. Remember the one from our childhoods with 8 different holes? What the hell are the other 7 holes for? I may die never knowing. They should label them. 1. Regular 2. Golf/Ikea pencil 3. Fat pencil for little kids 4. Giant novelty pencil, perhaps for writing giant novelty checks for charity 5. Eyebrow pencil. I am too tired to imagine three more types.

There is a kitchenette in the back right corner of the classroom. One of the overhead cabinets is filled with office supplies. Let us take inventory:

144 pencils. A full gross of Dixon Ticonderoga #2s. Just like when I was a kid, taking those Scantron tests.

96 yellow legal pads. I am writing this on one of the pads, so I guess that leaves 95 pads. Oh, and 143 pencils.

In the kitchen there is a microwave, but I have no idea why. How did he power the thing? Did it run on faith? Why is there no food in the trailer? A microwave and no bags of popcorn? What's the point? There's a button on the thing clearly labelled, "Popcorn" C'mon, Rev, throw me a bone.

Fortunately, there was a small saucepan here that I've been using to cook the crabs over a fire at night.

A Freeplay Model 7 radio/flashlight. This is one of those crank powered deals. The AM and FM band are completely useless. It does have 8 different shortwave bands. I spent my first night indoors just scanning the dial for news of what happened to my ship. I might have heard a report on it, but I don't speak Mandarin or what I am guessing is Tagalog. I really don't know. I am hoping to find the BBC one of these nights.