dusting off the workbench

The unpopulated beaches of north Jersey are a godsend. There’s something to be said for an empty stretch of beach on a Saturday in August. And by ‘stretch of beach’, I mean that the closest people were about 100 feet away. During the week, there’s nobody here except for a few flying surfers with giant kites.

My sister lives a whole five blocks from the beach. I came to visit my buddy and swim, and to leave my inertia in Brooklyn. I’m still stuck on the treadmill, but when I get off at the end of the day I have a new venture to turn my attention to. It’s creative and has nothing to do with writing – which is a breath of fresh air.

I’m only half-way through Gone-Away Lake. Not because I’m not enjoying it, it’s just that my sis has shelves and shelves of books and I couldn’t resist picking one up.

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