A Letter about Today

by tobias crabtree

This is from a letter to a friend. Sometimes it’s easier to write the real shit to a person that knows you. After all, the ones that really know you, know where the skin gets thin and the darker blood flows closer to the surface.

in the process of living i end up spending a whole helluva lot of time thinking about the could be’s and the would be’s. it’s probably pretty stupid. i doubt the whales do that. or the bats. or the bristlecone pines. i always figure that them things with wilder souls don’t think about the maybe’s they just breathe and live and see the stars. wild as i wanna be, i’m a pale, frail, little shadow that can’t even concentrate on the moment i’m in long enough to be in the real, honest to jesus, midst of things. what a flop.


i swam today. i went out where the seals and sea lions are herding through the sea grass. the ocean pushes and pulls so much out there that i can’t ever tell if i’m even making any headway. looking down, it looks like i’m in soup and i’m just part of the ingredients being stirred up. the distance, i think, was about a mile, point to point along the cliffs. someone told me they saw a shark from the cliffs not that long ago. “thanks,” i said. when i was done, i hauled my sorry ass outa the water and up the sea rocks to where the big pools that look like goldfish bowls are holding water, waiting to give it back to the sea when the moon pulls the tides up like stockings. the moss was slick, green grease and the smells of dead and alive and everything in between filled me up and up. there ain’t no rhyme or reason to why i do that shit, i’m a little scared of it. sometimes, like today, when i’m out there far enough and alone, i wonder about my heart and when it’ll just kinda have enough of this shit i put it through. little flutters. hesitating life. 


there’s a bar down the hill. i went down and had a beer and a bourbon and a burger, the triple b’s.  seems like everyone in this town is beautiful, almost like they were all made for each other. i feel old today. and worn. neck hurts. body aches. grey in my beard. hard to find the good looks between all the wrinkles i’m cultivating. back up the hill on the bike, it’s steeper than usual. where’s the moon anyway, i think she’s waning so maybe she’s out later. the sky is empty tonight. i’m sick of words and drawing and stuff that i do, i think that’s a good sign that i need to move along. go out and out a little farther. i’ve been thinking of going somewhere else in the world, but i’m pretty sure it’s just me running from something that’s buried down there in my nasty squirmy guts. i think the trick to everything is giving it all less power. the wishing and the loving and the lifting and the pulling…just turn away and walk toward the open spaces. 


i was told that my dreams are abnormal. i went to see my psychiatrist, did i tell you i have one of those? isn’t that weird? lot’s of questions about lots of stuff. i guess i do like it a little, i just haven’t ever had someone that doesn’t know me ask me those kind of things. they got their theories and i got mine. i don’t ever tell them everything, that’s probably why they always want me back. cat and mouse. they gave me a ton of pills, i could make some good money on that stuff! instead they all just sit and roast in my little r.v….i don’t wanna flush them, i worry over the ocean too much to put that weird stuff in the water. i will have so many pills by the time i’m dead that i’ll be able to dope the government and make them stop being idiots. that’s the plan, i’m saving all my pills so that i can dope the government and make them go to sleep, they do less harm when they’re sleeping.


anyway…that’s about it. not much else to report, captain.