far too much writing, far too many photos Sunday, November 25, 2001 Written yesterday, 11/24/01: A November day of partial overcast, the light sometimes strong and full, other times thinner, more meditative. I'm seated at the dining table in a condo owned by two friends in Provincetown, Massachusetts, out at the tip of Cape Cod. In front of me are sliding glass doors, beyond them a porch, beyond that the bay, glittering chips of sunlight flickering across the expanse of water. I arrived almost exactly 24 hours ago after an easy two-hour-plus drive down from Cambridge. Something I love about the holidays: the decrease in traffic. Thanksgiving Day and the morning after, Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, to a lesser extent the days between Christmas and New Year's. Less intensity. Except in shopping areas, where the pace picks up. A mall just south of Boston sported a packed lot. Jammed, cars prowling for nonexistent spaces. This at 8:30 a.m., mind you. Before leaving the house, I turned on the TV, saw some stores had opened at 6 a.m. for the now traditional day-after-Thanksgiving Christmas shopping binge, many people out there for the opening bell. A 6 a.m. shopping frenzy. That can't be healthy. (Then again, what do I know? Could be exactly what the doctor ordered for some deviants.) My friends live at the far end of Commercial Street, a residential stretch of condos and pretty houses off away from Provincetown's center. Yesterday afternoon, we stepped out into the November air, wandered in the direction of stores, galleries, restaurants, people. Before we knew it, we'd joined the rest of America in observing the first blast of the yuletide shopping season. It's a distinctive place, Provincetown, from the location -- out at the end of the Cape, surrounded by water, miles of beaches stretching away to the south -- to the character of the town itself and its madcap blend of residents and tourists, straights and gays, arty charm and brazen commercial hucksterism. Prior to last year, I'd never made the trip. Or rather, I'd attempted it on two different occasions, both during the summer, both times running into many long miles of traffic snarls, traffic so badly fouled-up, at such a standstill that I finally turned around and retreated to Cambridge. After that, I lost interest in further attempts. Who needs the aggro? I asked myself. And should you make it through the traffic, what's at the other end? Tourists, chaos, blahblahblah. Which may be true during the summer, but not so much off-season. In fact, right now it's a seductive little town -- surrounded by natural beauty, filled with life. Christmas lights are slowly materializing -- first in stores, then on more and more houses. The temperature ranges from appropriately chilly to amazingly mild (60 right now), sea gulls sweep through the air above the town as residents and visitors below carry on with their days. Tomorrow I return to Cambridge for dinner with friends and the resumption of packing, etc. On Monday, a buddy arrives from Dublin to help with the final stretch of the moving process and to engage in a little retail therapy. Life rolls on. Written today, 11/25/01: As you may have noticed, posts have been erratic and infrequent since arriving back in the States -- in part because web access has been limited, in part because energy and attention has been focused in other directions. In eleven or so days I'll be back in Madrid, at which time entries will likely resume their usual, irritating frequency. Until then, enjoy your free time. rws 9:29 AM [+] BLATHERINGS August 2001 September 2001 October 2001 November 2001 December 2001 January 2002 February 2002 March 2002 April 2002 May 2002 June 2002 July 2002 August 2002 September 2002 October 2002 November 2002 December 2002 January 2003 February 2003 March 2003 April 2003 May 2003 June 2003 July 2003 August 2003 September 2003 October 2003 November 2003 December 2003 January 2004 February 2004 March 2004 April 2004 May 2004 June 2004 July 2004 August 2004 September 2004 October 2004 November 2004 December 2004 January 2005 February 2005 March 2005 April 2005 May 2005 June 2005 July 2005 August 2005 September 2005 October 2005 November 2005 December 2005 January 2006 February 2006 March 2006 April 2006 May 2006 June 2006 July 2006 August 2006 September 2006 October 2006 November 2006 December 2006 January 2007 February 2007 March 2007 April 2007 May 2007 June 2007 July 2007 August 2007 September 2007 October 2007 November 2007 December 2007 January 2008 February 2008 March 2008 April 2008 May 2008 June 2008 July 2008 August 2008 September 2008 October 2008 November 2008 December 2008 January 2009 February 2009 March 2009 April 2009 June 2009 July 2009 .  .  .  .  .  .  .  . MORE FOCUSED BLATHERINGS Travels: London '01 Pamplona Italy '03 U.K. '03 Sevilla Casablanca Stoke-on-Trent Barcelona Québec/Ottawa Boston/Lisbon/Madrid Italy '04 Montréal La Sierra Events: Madrid -- arrival 9/11 Emergency Room I Holidays 2001 Holidays 2002 Holidays 2003 Holidays 2004 Holidays 2005 A neighbor's passing Madrid -- March 11 bombings   and aftermath Emergency Room II Israeli friend/Madrid Marathon Madrid -- Royal Wedding The DELE exam GONE, a novel: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 THE BASTARD CHILDREN OF JOE ROCCO, a novella: -- Part 1 -- Part 2 -- Part 3 BURBANK SHRUGGED, a screenplay: -- Part 1 -- Part 2 -- Part 3 -- Part 4 Short stories: Murphy's Wife Another Autumn La Queja de Una   Hermanastra Muy Conocida Autobiography -- Personal History -- Hormones On Parade -- Accidents, Random Mishaps,     Personal Problems .  .  .  .  .  .  .  . OTHER SOURCES OF WHOLESOME ENTERTAINMENT People/Weblogs: dooce foxvox fudge it fear not rebekka bookslut 802online idle words madhaiku wockerjabby grow-a-brain rebel market letting me be out and about kung fu grippe fanatical apathy baghdad burning wfuv's music blog kexp's music blog mimi smartypants between the miles just a hippie gypsy the impossible cool tomato can brushes vermont homestead sugar mountain farm Good Clean Fun: gizmodo futurismic postsecret dave barry human clock mcsweeney's spaceweather book-a-minute internet archive self-portrait day my cat hates you out of context quotes surrealist compliment   generator strindberg and helium Makin' Musical Whoopee: last fm stereo8 pandora soma fm .  .  .  .  .  .  .  . ABOUT RWS/CONTACT This page and all its contents copyright © 2001-2011 by runswithscissors unless otherwise noted. runswithscissors would like to thank everyone who's ever lived for everything they've ever done. 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