The Pinecrest Journals: 2001 - The following were e-mails sent to the Professor prior to his arrival at Pinecrest. He lingers in moderate anonymity due to repeat problems with the Candian border patrol while taking friends their supplies of Claritin.
A Quick One While She's Away (6/24):
Mullet Kids abound here. They seem to like swimming in the shallows here. Have
been scheming ways to sink them......Luckily, they sense the danger and keep
their distance from my float. "She looks mean. Look out, Cletus!" I don't know
if it's the stripe, the tattoos, the snarl or the rifle. Could be a combination.
Slept A LOT last night up in the dorm room thanks to the cone of silence, aka
my earplugs. Seriously, slept like a rock for about 9, nine and a half hours.
Dragged self out of bed only once for more water. A few times had to restrain
myself from saying, at the top of the stairs in a Michael Caine voice, "Good
night, you sons of Maine...." My M. Caine sounds a lot like Sean Connery, unfortunately.
Very unnerving. But really, the dorm room is exactly like that, even though
I never got around to seeing "Ciderhouse Rules". Eh.
I understand there was a disagreement over the rules of Pictionary last night,
or rather, the principles behind the rules of Pictionary, which makes me really
glad I was struggling with making the bed in the dark (my brother was already
asleep and I was TRYING to be quiet) at the time. That's what happens I guess
when you drink and draw.
The Pinecrest Progressive People's Collective (6/25):
A page torn from the journal of card-carrying socialist Diane Cantwell to space
explorer Steve N.:
So today (Sunday actually, more like yesterday now), Pam and Kerrigan and I
were going to the General Store for S'more supplies, and we decided to liven
things up by saying that we were going "for the glory of the commune" since
it felt like we were living on a commune, what with all the people here and
the growing divided factions caused by our friend Nancy's rather boorish (we
noticed he had purchased the novelization of the film "What's the Worst that
Could Happen?" which made Pam silently giggle as she put away groceries) overly
competitive, mean-when-always-drinking boyfriend. Anyway, we also decided that
the commune/collective needed a manifesto, and it should include something about
the sovereignty of our garbage cans, since the public seemed to have claimed
our private garbage cans as their own; we reclaimed one but still cannot find
the other one anywhere. So yes, sovereignty of garbage cans. Important.
I wish Kerrigan and Mike P. (GOOD Mike is Mike Pacheco, Kerrigan's boyfriend,
not-so-good Mike is Nancy's boyfriend) could stay longer, as they are so much
fun and so key to relieving the pressure (Pam too) between Nancy and Mike (they
of the argument about the principles of the rules of Pictionary.) As Mike said,
when you're arguing about that, you're not REALLY arguing about that, now, are
you? An education. I also apparently slept through the subsequent game of charades
(yay!) but heard about it around the campfire and almost laughed myself into
a coma when Kerrigan described trying to act out one of the words for Nancy's
boyfriend and his two friends--- Kerrigan was trying to act out "mass" by basically
saying it rhymed with "ass" and involved with praying. Well, these 3 guys went
through every damn word EXCEPT mass, even non-words ... "bass" "dass" "cass"
"lass" ---- and even said "What comes after el?"
Great campfire with Pam, my brother Fran and Kerrigan and Mike after Nancy and
her gang left. Small moment of panic when Kerrigan's extreme sunburn started
to blister and she almost started to cry, but I found a can of Solarcaine and
she took some kick-ass pain killers she's supposed to only use for migraines
(necessity....) and we figured it was a second, not 3rd degree burn so it would
be okay. She was right as rain and telling us Irish fairy stories as soon as
the pain killers kicked in. I think the S'mores helped as well.
Well, that was my Sunday in Pinecrest. I know you're thrilled. Yikes, it's late,
I better go to bed---
Good night, you Prince of Maine.....and whatever the hell else he says.
The Pinecrest Papers, Days 3&4 (6/25-26):
My Dear Professor:
Another peaceful night spent in the cone of silence; the workmen didn't start
making lots of noise until quarter past 9, so that's when I had the Chief and
Max let me out for coffee and a donut. Kind of overcast today, so I'm staying
in - nothing like being on a hike when you get caught in a sudden torrential
downpour, which has been known to happen out here. Although frankly, thunderstorms
up here are kinda cool.
Had a lovely morning with Kerrigan, Mike P. and Pam in which Mike told us about
having gone fishing - or having gone fishing without a pole himself - with the
Three Stooges as they are now becoming known. This story is too good and frankly,
I'm soooo glad he was there because they needed a grown-up supervising them
making sure they didn't start a forest fire. At one point, one of them was flicking
matches at another one. Uh, guys -- "dry forest land" mean anything to you?
No, but apparently "almost out of beer" did. Mike P. had to go and unhook their
snagged lines because, like the impatient 12-year old brains they possessed,
they couldn't quite figure out how to do it themselves. (Picture RCA Victor
dog with head cocked to one side: "Baru?") One of them had also gotten the idea
that trout adore frozen corn, and was littering the lake with the stuff. Mike
P.: "Uh, guys, (a) chumming is illegal, and (b) the idea is to lure the fish,
not to bomb them with it. May as well get a grenade." This corn chumming theory
of course, even if true and legal, was putting the fish at the advantage, since
simple mathematics and the law of averages shows that the more pieces of UNHOOKED
corn there are floating about in the lake, the less likely the trout is going
to choose the piece sitting on your hook.
Another one thought that instead of slowly reeling in, there was some sort of
race on. "Hey Moe, lookit how fast I can reel in!" Ah, well, the children soon
tired of baiting the fish and turned to trying to hook each other and tossing
matches at each other. Mike P. said occasionally an old granny and her progeny
would pass by on the trail nearby as these three were going at it, and you could
practically hear them thinking, "Oh, my! Hoodlums!"
Forgot to tell you important piece of information about Nancy's arrested adolescent
beau: spent entire 2 days rolling around on sneakers that had retractable wheels
on them. Rolled throughout cabin and porch pretty consistently/constantly. Was
apparently annoyed when others could not keep up on the way to store.
Well, but if they hadn't made it to visit, I would have NO funny stories to
tell you, so I'm very glad I can act all superior and laugh as I sip at my coffee.
Actually, I don't think they're actually stupid, but I call it the Truman Capote
"In Cold Blood" Syndrome, wherein you get a group of people together that really
should NOT be put together. BAD things happen, especially when alcohol is involved.
Listen to me, I take a few antibiotics and don't drink for 10 days and suddenly
I'm Miss Tee-totaller. Well, even at my worst, I never threw hooks OR matches
at anyone.
More later.....Time for lunch.
******* Tues. a.m.:
Okay, I can't believe my vacation is half over....... and there's a minuscule
bug crawling around on my keyboard....... Anyway, vacations go by too quick.
The rest of last night Pam and I spent mostly talking, not playing games ---
we were all played out, and we both agreed we couldn't concentrate on any sort
of movie or anything like that. Your basic giggle till one a.m. festival, although
I must say I felt a bit EDITED due to the presence of my brother Fran. Up at
8 a.m. with the arrival of the construction workers, who are being actually
very quiet! It's as if they are tiptoeing around in their big heavy boots. Nice
guys, those fellows. I'm guessing they can't do too much because things are
rather damp out here.
Am listening to my "Dazed and Confused" and "Even More Dazed and Confused" soundtracks.
Fun! Next on my never-ending roller-coaster ride of excitement: mop kitchen
floor before Dad arrives! Also am hoping to get more actual REAL creative writing
done today, maybe some journal writing.
Bring Me the Head of a Thieving Playwright (6/26):
(This is in reply to some bad news Steve gave me about a title I'm using having
been STOLEN for a play by someone else) That's okay. I generally don't kill
the messenger. It did bug me though, no fault of yours. I mean, there and I
thought I was being very clever and original. Harrumph. I'm going back to one
and two-word titles like before; couldn't go wrong there.
I couldn't sulk for too long. It's hard to be all long-faced and grumpy when
your nice Daddy is buying you lovely lunch and taking you for motorboat rides
all over the lake and going, "Look, remember Cantwell Rock? Let's go to Cantwell
Rock!" And stuff like that. It's really just impossible to be at all glum with
Dad and Pauline around. We boated around the lake and I saw all the stuff that
I'd forgotten about, and we saw Canadian geese and the mom ducks and her ducklings
I see every year (they're already very big though) and the cute little cabin
that I love that looks like a Swiss chalet and has red, green and yellow trim
AND and AND I got the funniest photograph of the tower at the dam (mind you,
it's surrounded by water and it's the thingies that generate electricity so
no one's clamoring to get in there anyway) which has signs on it reading "WARNING:
KEEP OUT SECURITY DOG" With a lovely little drawing of a dog on it. Dog?????
In the middle of the lake???? I'm callin' the SPCA! My photo is probably all
crummy due to rain and interfering fisher people, but at least you can make
out the drawing of the dog.
So I'm downright cheerful now, and off in search of Lula's cabin, which is a
statement which might someday make sense to you. In the meantime, you may un-hang
your head. As long as this PLAY isn't about the same thing my story is about,
and I don't see how it could possibly be, there's no point in being glum. Cleverness
is overrated. That's for arty pretentious types whose titles are better than
their damn works. So there.
With that, I'm unplugging the computer, going for my walk, which I figure should
take me about twenty minutes there and another 20 back, and that should leave
me time for a shower before we leave for dinner at the inn in Strawberry. Ta-da!
I'm finally getting out and exploring around here; yay!
Diane the Explorer
P.S. And I'll just keep my title, thank yew verra mooch! : )
(6/27/01):
Dear Bristley,
I'm pooped. Dragging myself off to bed verrrry shortly, and it's just 11 p.m.
Still, I can't be blamed! I never thought my Dad would wear me out with fun.
He's been a veritable Willy Wonka all day. Am expecting him to suggest we do
Disneyland next month. Actually, I think the long walk up one side of the lake
and back along with the heavy meal at the Inn at Strawberry probably have something
to do with my current exhaustion. Filet mignon, and it was actually good! Sometimes
these mountain places will serve up an old shoe and call it filet and charge
you $20 ("Ha! Townie!"), but this was pretty damn good. Mmmmm, vacation is all
about the food -- and my return to wine! Although sadly, these stupid antibiotics
have done not a whole hell of a lot to help the bronchitis. It's mostly gone,
but it lingers. What the hell?????? When will it go away??????? I want my money
back. Or at least my lungs. I'm going to demand to SEE my DOCTOR in PERSON upon
my return. As a matter of fact, I'm calling tomorrow and making an appointment.
For all I know, I have black lung or some coal miner's disease. Ick.
Anyway, TERRIFIC hike (although like I said, it's more of a walk, not so much
a hike around the lake) out to Lula's cabin and back earlier, but it took longer
than I thought. I may have wrecked part of my film though, because I dropped
my camera and some of the film got exposed. !!!!! Just a little so ...hopefully
not all of it was wrecked. I'll find out I guess. Got pics of mom duck and her
ducklings (hi kids!) but of course it was from kind of far away, so it probably
won't look so hot. Wish I could have gotten pics of the Canadian geese but oh
well, we all know what they look like. They were pretty -- too bad I didn't
get to see them take off either. Can you tell it was my nature day? : ) There's
one thing I'll have to snap a photo of for you, which you would like: the pay
phone that stands out there, smack dab in the middle of nowhere on the hiking
trail, in the middle of the WILDERNESS. I guess if you're a bear and need to
call Carrot Top??? Or eat him?
Anyway, on the way back to the cabin after dinner, my Dad regaled us with stories
of going to teen dances at Pinecrest in 1940 and being all embarrassed that
his Mom and his Aunt Edie would come along and watch. : ) Also about how from
8th grade on he took dance lessons at Miss Ellworth's with a bunch of other
kids for a quarter; one hour of learning dance moves and then the good part
--- one hour of actual dancing with the dames! Even back then, my dad was a
scoundrel.
Ugh --- heavy dinner, fire-warmed room and no nap = need for bed. Brother John
and sis-in-law Charlene land tomorrow, Dad and Pauline leave. Feel like a new
administration is beginning.
Okay, that's it. I'm goin' to bed fer reals.
-------
Wednesday-----
Okay, the week needs to STOP advancing so damn fast. Especially when yesterday
was the first day I really started appreciating this place and got to walk around
and junk. Dad and Pauline took me out to breakfast -- once more to the Inn at
Strawberry, which was once more terrific, where a fresh-faced young lass named
Brittany served up a short stack of blueberry pancakes and LOTS of fresh coffee
(yum!). Steve Buscemi/Mr. Pink would not be disappointed by the service and
repeated refills/warmers of coffee.
Intrepid Traveler, Diane
Weather is positively icks-ville today. Supposed to get better by tomorrow.
It better! I've only got two more days here. John and Charlene arrived; we walked
to the Snack Shack to find it arbitrarily CLOSED and then we wandered around
a bit before getting rained on and heading back for lunch. They're walking around
a little, prepared for more rain. I, coming from last Saturday's sunny Oakland,
am prepared for no rain at all. Ah, well, perhaps it's time to build a fire......
Diane
Lord (Lady?) of the Flies (6/28):
Dearest Prof. Sutwell:
Well, as the weather did not permit me to promenade further about the lake,
I made like a Jane Austen character visiting friends at a distant Manor and
read, did extensive writing (okay, actually, revisions on extensive writings)
and paid bills while John and Charlene worked on a puzzle. Yes, you could have
been in on all this excitement. No great loss on your part. It was actually
nice in a relaxing sort of way. I mean, I wasn't on the computer (I do revisions
longhand on paper) and I wasn't at work, and I was in good company. We joked
around and relived our favorite "Malcolm" moments over rice crispie treats after
dinner by the fire. But then.........horror struck when.....
Let me back up to a fifteen minute period this afternoon when I massacred about
15 flies that were just buzzing around the cabin. They were no-goodnik, hoodlum
flies, and there were WAY too many of them. I've no idea how they all got in.
Anyway, I killed 'em.
So anyway, I was finishing off my beer which I'd been nursing for QUITE SOME
TIME (like, too long, over 2 hours) when I realized there was....something at
the bottom which I'd just almost swallowed. A foreign object. Hmmm, I didn't
think I wanted to swallow that, so I just nixed the whole thing and spat it
back into the bottle, taking it into the kitchen for closer examination. "Charlene,"
I said, "It appears that a fly has committed suicide in my beer!" It took a
moment for me to realize just how long I'd been drinking that beer. Who knows???
"Time to brush my teeth!" was all I could come up with. "Does Colgate Total
have bleach or antibiotics in it???"
I imagine perhaps the fly did this kamikaze dive in some sort of attempt to
get even with me: "This is for Mom!" it cried in despair before slipping into
the hops and barley flavored ale.
So now I think the surviving flies are conspiring to get me. Okay, maybe not,
but that was hardly encouraging. I'll just keep the cap on my water bottle,
thank you very much.
End of Wednesday transmission. (Space Ghost Coast to Coast!)
Now Thursday: Quick note: WONDERFUL WEATHER -- off for hike to dam! Yay! Nieces
allegedly arriving sometime between 5-9 p.m., depending on stops and driving
speed. Going now to enjoy the day....
Diane "I have the conch shell" Cantwell (End of e-mails, since correspondent
finally just showed up at the cabin.)