A Cozumel Adventure with Lovely Lisa

Right now I’m sitting in Senor Frogs because they have free internet. I had a real adventure on Cozumel last week and so Im excited to tell its story. My friend Lisa and I were lucky enough to have the day off so we decided to rent a car and go “exploring.” Now, I have a very strong philosophy when it comes to exploring. Always be safe, but please take those risks. If you see something spooky, go see what it is..with caution. Sometimes its nothing, sometimes you get stuck in the sand, but sometimes…on a rare occasion, you find something you could never have expected to find in the entire world. These are the moments that I live for and dedicate to my positive view of the world. There will always be new and exciting things to discover on this planet. All you need is an open mind, a pair of good walking legs, and a fair companion. Let me tell you about Lisa.

Lisa is from a small town in Canada and acts as an assistant manager in youth activities. She’s tall, my age, and blond. She smiles most of the time and isn’t interested in boys. She’s for the men. We met in the Officer’s Lounge and decided immediately to be friends. We like to play around with the other crew sometimes, but it’s nice to retreat back to the officer’s lounge when we both need to. For us it’s a step above the crew bar. We like to exercise and look good together. All in all we’re an easy pair. Positively natured, adventurous always, and in good humour. She’s going to leave the ship soon and I will surely miss her.

When we got our first car it was a stick shift and tried to pull it off, but decided we’d better ask for an automatic, which is just less hassle. The island of Cozumel has one major town where we port and then on road that circles the island. Without stopping you can pull the circuit in just under 2 hours. The island is flat and swampy, and since its only 7 miles off the coast of the mainland, that side of the island has calm beaches. That part of the drive is fairly unexceptional. I could have been driving through Ohio for all I knew, but it felt good to be a real person, off ship. We had the cover down and enjoyed chatting as there was no radio to listen to. The wind felt good and the sun was just bright enough. We decided to stop in El Cid, which was marked in the middle of the island. A small excursion from the main road. Apparently there were supposed to be some ancient ruins, but all we found was a lame attempt at a tourist trap. Theres a movie to rent if you haven’t seen it, Tourist Trap. There was a couple of old looking buildings, and a church but not much else. If anything, it was interesting to see something more inland Mexico, just a small dusty town in the middle of nowhere. We kept saying it would be real spooky at night. Either way we didn’t stay long. On the way back through the jungle to the main road, we made one of those exciting discoveries, an abandoned water park. This was very exciting for both of us, and with a little coaxing, I convinced Lisa to let us stop and take a couple photos. The park itself didn’t look old, but it did look unkempt. It was dry as summer grass, and very eerie. As soon as we entered the park an old Mexican man came up to us and said we could not enter this place. I said we just wanted to take some photos of us and he abided. We left quickly, but we talked about that man. We wondered if that park had been his dream at one time and how disappointing it was for him to let that dream die. Now he must sit there day after day in his own water park, alone, hoping for what now? This endeavor of his failed so what’s next? What’s next for all of us? The discoveries we make during explorations of the world change who we are as people, and shape who we are to become. I do not want to be that man sitting alone by a corrupted endeavor, and now I know I will not let myself be.

Making our way South along the coast, we passed many different resorts along the beach. All of them were partially hidden in the jungle and so it was this odd touristy feeling where everything feels the same. I was sort of something out of a dream. Not quite a nightmare, but not entirely a pleasant experience. As we made our way to the tip we were looking out for the lighthouse that’s there, but apparently we passed it. It worked out though, because just beyond it was a wonderful beach side shack bar where we stopped for a snack and some drinks. One of my goals in life is ti visit as many ends of the Earth as possible and I can tell you now the Southernmost Point of Cozumel is one of those sacred places. It had a brilliant light and aire to it, the waves were loud, the sea was immense, and the isolation was prevalent despite the fact that we surrounded by other people. Some places are just special, and this was one of them. It really felt like something out of Mad Max, Barter town in the middle of the dessert. Here, on the outlying world of a Mexican Island, is a very unique spot. I’m not even sure what the place was called, I just know where it is and that one day I hope to dream about it again.

After our stop we continued North up the east coast of the island which faces the Gulf of Mexico. Here the sea is much rougher, and the drive is much more interesting. Often the road comes right up to the rocks that fall down to the water. It was dangerous and exciting and all beautiful. Eventually we came to a spot where a group of people were milling about on the rocks. They looked like mentally ill patients wandering on a field trip in the middle of nowhere. Soon, though we saw that there was a blow hole in the rocks shat erupted each time a new wave struck the shore. It was very strong and soaked both of us. Again, these are one of those things you don’t expect to find…an erupting blow hole off a desolate beach in Mexico. What a world to see. I thought that we were lucky because I don’t think it would be the same had the tide not been high. Either way, we were glad to play along.

Moving along we passed a cliff outcropping with a bar called Coconuts on tip of it. It looked fun but we decided we’d go back there a different day. Later we found out the Hurricane Paloma had actually destroyed quite a bit of that bar’s balcony when the cliff partially collapsed because of the storm. That goes to show you the world is always changing, growing here, and disappearing there. Everything in motion and never the same. You must realize that nothing can last permanently, in the eons of our reality, one day everything will be different.

We stopped at a beach that looked semi private later on. It was a bit rocky, but still ours. You really can’t pay any amount of money to have a beach all for yourself. These places must be sought out and appreciated as you go. Just take them as they come and always be thankful, for they are blessings. A very special place for all species. The terminator between land and sea, two entirely different worlds. Humans have always flocked to them for personal recreation, but I think there something more beyond that simple enjoyment of the beach. They are also for the soul I dare to think, where you can step on a line between the worlds and think about who you really are…as a creature of God, yet still small in the inifinite ocean of space and time. Lisa and I also enjoyed taking sexy photos of each other. Beaches are good for looking sexy too, remember, which makes them even that much more special.

Lisa had to get back to work but we decided to stop first at the other set of ancient ruins on the island. These were much more impressive and it was too bad we didn’t have more time to explore them. The road there was about 10 miles long and, again, in the middle of the jungle. By this time though, clouds had covered the sun, and things were much spookier than before. We found an old well, which smelled like death, and the ruins themselves were vast. There were several buildings scattered for acres, as it was a whole Myan City. This I hadn’t realized, and had it not been for the underwhelming El Cid, I would have expected more. But they were fantastic and ancient. The Myans! Who would have thought we’d find a whole ciy in the middle of the jungle. And there was a huge Iguana too. We were there for only about a half hour but I know I’ll never forget it. Remarkable!

I drove Lisa back to the ship and since I had some time left decided to further up the Northern Coast to the Island of Passion. I knew nothing about it as it was simply a destination on the map. I became worried as the road went from pave dto dirt and grew anxious as I drove there. I was by myself now and alone in God Knows Where. Hopefully the island would be worth it. In a way it was. It had a very bleak, desolate feeling to it. The wind was strong, the sky dark, and there was no one there save for a handful of enormous black birds and some abandoned cars. I didn’t stay long, but isn’t it always nice to end a great adventure with such a somber tone? In the end, there I was, alone at the Island of Passion, surrounded by derelicts, and here comes the rain again.

I’m some stranger, which feels right for me. The roles we play sometimes…The Art Dealer…The Stranger...The Adventurer…Who knows who I am, but I know I can be anything I want.

A Real Cracker of A Day

This Friday (the day after Christmas) I went back to my beach in the Bahamas and found myself alone there, again, late in the afternoon. The tide had been pulled far back, as far away from the beach as I’d ever seen, and I walked in ankle deep water out to the middle of the bay. The sand looked pure and natural like Easter Sugar, and there were some low spots in the water, sure, even a school of fish and the giant barracuda (plus a large green sea snail with dark spots!), but for the most part, the sea was a gentle blue sheet of water over a yellow plain out into infinity. It was like a dream. I stretched my new body (because it’s been growing and shrinking recently in all those good sexy ways) in the middle of the bay and even did a back flip. It felt wonderful to land in the warm, wet sand, and it was one of the happiest moments I can remember for a long time. Not just that gleeful, fun happy, but that more calm, inner happiness, like when knowing your soul is starting to shine a bit brighter.

Every time I go to Castaway Cay I am amazed at the paradise I find. I thought that this place on this day was all the present I needed for Christmas, the opportunity to experience a moment so blissful, somewhere randomly on our enormous blue planet, as if taken out of time and space. I stood there for a long time. Eventually I found myself staring over the breakers out to the turbulent sea beyond it. Here was I in an actual sanctuary, an ecological anomaly protected from the surging ocean. A bit of shallow sea hidden from the chaos. Eventually, over time those breakers will fall and the ocean will rush forward to reclaim the bay, and then erode the island. But for now, in this time, its absolutely perfect. In a state of grace; beautiful and bright in the sun, calm shallows and a refreshing breeze. This is a blessing for anyone who happens to be there, and I am so thankful to be chosen. Even if this was the only thing I had ever been shown in my whole life, having lived in a sealed box for 24 years and then released here, I would feel luckier than anyone on Earth. And I can’t help but absorb the beauty and serenity into my soul, and still wonder, why do I get this? Why should I get to deserve this when so many others never will (nor even begin to comprehend how to appreciate it if they were there)? Who’s deserving of what.? Millions are wiped from the face of the Earth in a maelstrom of fire, instantly, and here I stand…still…trying to put things back into a perspective I know longer have. I suppose that should be my first goal; to try to put together something of a new perspective on life. I think about God, and why I’m standing in this Bahamian land, and I would like to politely ask, shouldn’t someone else be here…beside me even? Or swimming just a couple of meters away doing their own thing? And then I realize, Shit, I forgot the time. I have ten minutes to get back to the Magic…my home…I look back once, and I have to stop and smile out at the landscape. It’s a Cracker alright, a real Cracker of a day.

Maintaining that Positive Altitude

I cut my foot playing volleyball in the sand last week, and it became a small sore. God knows I’ve experienced worse things in my life, but when I took my sock off after a long day I thought I saw, for just a moment, a tiny spider scurry out of the cut. There really wasn’t one there, but for just a second there was. Maybe I’ve been looking at too much Dali, but these small illusions aren’t to be dismissed so easily. I don’t know what it means.

That next morning I had an unsettling dream. The tone of the dream was fine, calm, while I was experiencing it, but afterwards was the worse part. I dreamt I was in a moonlit woods with a group of strangers, knowing we were to do the devil’s work. The ground was level and clear of brush, but thick with tall trees. We came to a place in the woods and began to cut down the trees. All I had to do was grasp the trunk, and my hands burned through the wood. The trees fell to the ground and became a pool of red embers. Eventually we cleared a large rectangular shape with another smaller rectangle on one of the broader sides, like this:

The others all submerged themselves in the embers as if to bathe in them. I knew that I shouldn’t and stepped back into the forest. I saw a house nearby and as I moved closer a light shined at me from the main window. A man came out, and I knew he was to trade places with me. I took him to the clearing and he eased himself into the embers with the rest of them. Then I woke up. Again, I don’t know what it means, but I have a bad feeling about the whole thing. I

don’t want to be doing the Devil’s work.

The days have gone by quickly, but at the same time, now that I think of it, the days have been very long. Many people have since left the Magic, and new ones have come. The arrangements of people has become a complicated issue. They’ve issued Citizen Retainment Centres in Florida, Texas, and Hawaii. Our ship now collects Americans from around the Caribbean and deposits them at these Centres. I’ve been given archival duties; keeping names, possessions, and documents for “the American Collection.” I have this art in my locker and I’m not sure what to do with it. I think it might be an important thing to keep this collection. We have many American artworks which might be important to the world in only a couple of years.

When we stopped in St. Thomas, we picked up many families that had been on vacation. St. Thomas is still part of the United States, which still do exist, but not to anyone there anymore. Being on St. Thomas for the first time was surreal. I was on U.S. land, but it’s a strange island in the Caribbean, different, always, that the U.S. I’m used to. It’s beautiful, Paradise, and might be my future home now. We’re still not sure if we will even have a choice on the matter, but if I did, it wouldn’t be a bad choice. It’s a wonderful place, and its beauty took me away on a dream. Florida is still there, which is still a very nice place to live, but who knows. It too had always been looked on as Paradise. Of course Paradise would survive that and just a bit of Texas. I don’t know what type of Paradise Texas might be, and I don’t think I want to guess.

Life on the ship has picked up again. We still wear our nametags, which was something that struck me a senseless. They have our names and country on them. United States means something else now. I’m Coleman, from the land of the lost. Ghost World. Everyone smiles in this strange new way when you say hello. It’s natural to say hello, look at the nametag and then back at the face. Now, when I follow their eyes down to my nametag, their eyes come back up to meet my own with a different knowing behind them, and a new, pursed smile.

I have a new friend named Madeline, and she likes how I say her name. She says I say it unlike anyone else, but I honestly say it how I think it should be said, and no different. I wasn’t surprised when she told me she was named after the character Madeline in Alfred Hitchcock’s Vertigo. There’s an old American Classic, I tell her, and then I think that they’re all going to be old American Classics from now on. What happens to civilizations when they disappear? Will the future look back on the U.S. as a sort of Modern Roman period, or will we become a silhouette in the annals of mythology like Atlantis or Troy? The Aztecs…The Garden of Eden…The United States of America.

I get reminded of home, and, like any man, these things are kept inside. Slowly I let them leak out of me during the night. I lay in bed thinking about people, places, and things (nouns) and slowly they turn into dreams. When I wake up I do feel a bit better. Although I have the sneaking suspicion that there’s still quite a bit of emotion left that wouldn’t be there had I just let it out earlier. Still, that’s probably what men are known for, and I might as well be one.

The character actors still play their dress up with the mice, ducks, and dogs. It’s about trying to stay positive is all, but I’ve made friends with a lot of them. I joke that they’ve all caught cold, because they lost their voices. They’ll say no, we’re saving the voices for the shows, but they just can’t talk in character. So, we’ve developed sign language to communicate, which can be fun, but especially when its nonsense. “I’m dreaming of a Chocolate Grandpa,” is a popular one, but we’ve also evolved into more complex nonsense. “I’m dreaming of chocolate harmony on Earth for all diamond Helicopters, Brother…Eternally.” I suppose its vaguely epic, but these have become epic times.

I started thinking about my dog, Dodo. Oona had just died recently, but Dodo was still there as a consolation. What consolation was there now? My life. I suppose life is a consolation. Instead of praying to find meaning, I pray to give thanks. Why else would I be alive? Thoughts (and some doubts) creep into me about God, and I find, more than ever, my faith regained. It brings a great joy unlike any that I’d known before, and for that I cry more than I do from sorrow.

Trying to be positive has become such an entertaining game. I never thought it would have worked, and not so soon. I suppose humans are resilient as a species, when they need to be. We move forward to survive.

On Key West I went on solo adventure and found a unique mangrove swamp tucked away in some small haphazard nature reserve. There was a single walkway out into the middle of it and there I found a pair of characters taking a break. They were smoking something and at first I startled them but eventually we went to talking. As they were still strangers there wasn’t a whole lot to talk about, but it still meant something to me to happen upon something new and welcomingly unexpected. I doubt they’ll remember me, but for me it was an unusual five minutes. There are stark realities separate from everything else waiting to be uncovered, like lifting a log and finding a thriving underbelly of creatures. I hope to always find these places in the world, but I must always be aware of the danger in these explorations. You never know which creatures might bite. Perhaps that danger adds the essential component to any adventure. Perhaps I shouldn’t be going solo in this new world I’ve become a part of.

That night we had our open deck night on the front of the ship. It was a bit windy, but the sky was beautiful with a huge moon and fast moving clouds. I saw some shooting stars, which is always a lucky treat. I was reminded of a night back in Chicago years ago when I had been driving home late at night from a date in Naperville. I was driving past a field and the whole sky lit up bright suddenly. It scared me, and when I went home I went online to see if anyone else had seen it. It ended up being a meteor that had crashed in somewhere North of me. My friend from Eastern Illinois told me to stop making fun of her, as she had been scared by it too in the same way. What was really a giant shooting star, the largest I’ve ever seen, we had both thought at first to be an atomic bomb.

I don’t want to talk about Christmas.

Into the Electronic Ether

They kept us at sea for a few extra days before taking us back to Canaveral. Florida, America’s panhandle, was left untouched. It’s as if someone held up a frying pan in front of a truck, and when they pulled their hand back, that’s all there was left. I guess that’s not really very funny, but I’ve been surprised how keeping myself amused has become a new sort of game. Florida is still here, the tip of Texas, and of course the free loaders; Alaska and Hawaii. I’m sure it has something to do with Cuba, but we don’t know yet.

I was thinking that there must still be people left in the heart of the country. Major cities were the targets, that we do know, so what about the country? Are there still survivors left, now going into the winter? I asked some people if it would make sense that they’d send out rescue parties, but who would man them? What about the radiation? What about the coming winter?

There’s been silence aboard the ship. A lot of people got off in Florida. Chris and Amy have a home somewhere and offered to take me there with them. I’m still not sure I want to do that. True, Florida is big enough to be its own country, but it will take a while for it to get back onto its own. I’ve taken the ship out again and we’re headed to some of the islands as refugees. Many foreigners aboard the ship, crew and guests will be leaving in St. Martin, I believe we will be taking on some people, survivors, who are there. A nurse came aboard and her name is Siren, no surname. She’s listed simply as Siren, on a list where everyone else has two names. I’m curious still to know what this means for me.

Syed has kept his distance and I haven’t asked where he’s been staying. I didn’t ask him to leave, but he did silently, and I appreciated the space. We still don’t have any television coverage, so we rely on daily updates and word of mouth mostly. We still don’t know who’s to blame, we still don’t know where we’re going, we still don’t know anything. My ship credit card still works, which makes no sense to me. In the crew store I wanted some wine and felt pain at looking at an American wine. It’s the last of its kind, so I brought home 4 bottles. I still haven’t touched a single one. How many more chances in my new life will I get to taste America?

I’ve been reading a lot, which feels stupid. I started to look back at some of my old photos and that felt even stupider. I don’t know what to think about to keep me thinking about what I should be.

I start to think of the things I should have said to everyone from home, and then I think of the things I’d say to anyone left. Things I would have said right before and still long ago. I could still say those things now, but it would be simply to a memory and that feels lame. I can’t live thinking about “what ifs.” Survival can’t involve any of that. Then, I do feel amazed to still be here writing this, and to who?

There was a bad storm in Key West, which I assume was only natural. They said weather patterns might be affected, but this storm gave me a wave of nostalgia growing up. I don’t have really any memories of sea storms, but it reminded me of getting home from school. There was this odd sense of confinement to it, of defeated afternoons and change of plans. I’m pretty sure it was unrelated to what’s happened, but still, none of us are sure of anything anymore.

I set up a Christmas tree in my room for Syed and I. He doesn’t really celebrate Christmas but he still says he will sometimes with friends. I guess anyone can appreciate a good holiday. I was never ga-ga over Christmas, but today I felt I needed that symbol there. It’s small and sparse, but it still brings warmth and light. I’ll take that.

Going through my bag I found an old notepad with some notes from a trip a few years back. The pages were getting crumpled so I’d figure I would commit them to the electronic ether:

“David had been acting strange for weeks now, so when the opportunity arose, both Steve and I thought it was a good idea to take him home to Peoria. The allure of the casino boat has always loomed in my head since I was young. Not necessarily just the Pair-O-Dice Casino (and hotel), but all casinos. This would be the first time for all of us, and my cousin Jason had always said my luck with cards was uncanny.

How was Miami? It was worth the trip.

The riverboat does let you go on the top deck to look across the water towards the skyline of Peoria. Black jack is the best table to win your money at, and Liz is definitely a great dealer. When we got back to Dave’s we watched The Great Outdoors.

Remember: Lignum Vitae- Lignum Vitae Channel- The Opaque Nothingness- Islamorada- Conch Key and the Octopus’s Garden- Green Parrot Bar- The Art Gallery- LSD- the dealers- Curry Hammocks- Report Graffiti- The Shell Man- Dima the Cheetah- The Citizen Retainment Center- Key Lime- The Shak Shak Tree- The Emergency Signal is On- Signs that say: Nothing- Storybook clouds- Patience Pays- Only Pass Sun- Monkey Jungle

This Morning

Coleman Balogh

-Almonds and other nuts
-Beans-
-Spinach-Broccoli-brussel sprouts-asparagus-peppers
-Dairy- fat free milk, yogurt, cottage cheese
-Instant oatmeal- peanut butter
-Eggs- lean meat
-Olive oil- whole grain bread and cereal
-extra protein whey, ricotta cheese
-raspberries and other berries”

I can’t understand what’s happened, and I’m scared of what is still to come, but, out of all these new, powerful emotions inside of me, I feel entirely grateful for the life we still have, whomever we might be.

The Journey Home

Everything in the world has changed, and I still don’t know what to do. A week later, its still very abstract, and even though I know the meaning will eventually creep back into the days, pulling together a semblance of rationality puts a strain on all of our realities. For those that are left, the tears have dried up, but the emotion still flows from our eyes and down our faces perpetually. This might be the way it is for us, the survivors, until we leave this Earth.

I’ve been reflecting whether or not I should write anymore, and I came up with a weak reasoning that has let me pass. Looking at my strange reflection in the mirror, I realized there weren’t many people like me left. Before I thought no one looked like me, and now I see someone who used to look like everyone. And so I whispered to myself and anyone; “If you don’t like it, you don’t have to read it.” If you don’t like it, you don’t have to read it.

If you don’t like it, you don’t have to read it.

I found out about the end of my world over the ships loudspeaker. First they announced the general alarm, and then the captain said that the United States had been destroyed. It was just a matter of fact. After a bit, my body emptied of everything I had ever known. My spirit left with my bones and muscle. My hopes and desires were swiped from my mind instantaneously. My emotion, soul, and entire understanding of the universe left through my feet. The sounds of understanding cruelty sprang out around the ship, and I knew, strangely and immediately, that this is no dream. This is really happening.

America, my home, my entire world, is gone now forever. The atomic bomb, the world’s greatest fear and weapon, has taken everything I have ever known. And by whom God only knows, and by whom shall fear the judgment of God forever. My family, friends, and the in-between have become null and void all at once.

Yet I can’t comprehend how it is to be that here I am still, floating on this shapeless ocean, to continue with what began as my simple soul search. Looking back now it feels selfish and arrogant to think I could say goodbye so easily to a whole world I knew so well. Now everything has changed, everything permanently altered. At the start of all of this, before the disaster, I told myself change would come, knew it to be true even, and yet I could never have realized truth as it is. How naive I am. Here, searching still, I know that the soul is everything but simple, and I don’t dare end what I started searching for until I know the true meaning of the word; end, which, by the grace of a higher power, I do not know, unlike so many others. I knew them all too…

I don’t think there’s anyone left to read this, a fact that still rips through me every second of every new day, and like the waves I float on, I can feel the pulse push through me. A physical force of emotion so strong, I fear it will never end. Always, I hear the cries, gasps and sighs of people, Americans, who I cannot call anything but my Brothers. One day, maybe, someone will happen upon this story, but now I don’t know. I hope so, and hope not as well, but I understand that I can’t rely on hope any longer, and not for one second. I have faith that if there is someone left, I Will find them, or they will find me.

The world outside, the sea, is still bright, and eerie. Still, just as beautiful as before, as though nothing happened at all. I look out to the sea and know that somewhere beyond, everything I know has been vanished forever, and yet here I am, still looking out from the end of the Earth.

At first, I wanted to say that it was impossible to describe how I felt, that words would not do justice to the feeling, but I realize that this would be a cheat. The words are there, and always will be. They are words I knew once as something else, that I never truly understood until this moment. They are the words called longing, darkness, sorrow, and hope. And forever they will mean something new, different, and powerful.

I’ve been reading a book since and before the disaster. At first I thought it was nothing important, a children’s book, but now it gives my life a new meaning. There is a line that I thought I should put to what’s left of the world. It goes like this; ““Don’t worry,” said Maddy. “People didn’t make life, so they can’t destroy it. Even if we were to wipe out every bit of life in the world, we can’t touch the place life comes from. Whatever made plants and animals and people spring up in the first place will always be there, and life will spring up again.””

I love you.