My Refinery

Well, I did it. I actually went on vacation. Oil came with me... though I have to say I thought I would be more structured about it -- I did talk and learn about oil every day -- but I wasn't structured. I really needed a vacation.

On Lake George, at the dock gas station, gas is $5.00/gallon -- and it is the place to be. Lesley had a bad night the day we were there. It had to do with John and Jason, I think. It costs $100 to fill up a small motor boat -- the you can drive around in circles with a 20 year old cousin mocking you about 80s music...

Last week I was in a writing workshop -- and it was really interesting to me to see the number of people involved with oil. One friend, it turns out, translates oil documents from French and Spanish. He promised to share some.

In the same small workshop there were two women who had grown up with families in the oil business. Life is very strange. I did a few interviews, but I think that I want to intersperse them as I go back to business as usual.

Memory and history are very funny things -- not fixed at all, I think.

Lorna said that in the daytime "my refinery" looked like any old industrial site -- metal and cement -- with a smell that made her have to hold her nose as they drove through.

But at night the white lights seemed to float in the sky -- alien and beautiful and frightening.

"It created in me a thrilled terrible feeling that I was approaching an alien landscape."

Not fixed at all and filled with all the different visions and experiences of time and perspective at once...