Tuesday, July 06, 2004

After the morning's orders I came back to buy more books. Two for private collectors and the aforementioned autographed Caitlin Kiernan for myself. I've been doing well which is comforting right before a big buying trip.
Then I was stricken with the heat. Around lunch it was something like 104 degrees with 53% humidity. I decided it would be as good a time as any to check out the Centerville Cemetery. If for no other reason than I could drive with my window open instead of sitting in my sweltering room.
The drive to the Centerville Cemetery is one on which I thought I'd get lost but was surprised. All I knew was that it was somewhere on Centerville road and that I had to take Skyway and Honey Run to get to it (I'd only ever been on Skyway before.) The drive is hilly, whips around corners and falls off the side into a river which isn't Butte Creek but something else. Something that stops moving in places crusts over with green. Yet people still seem to swim in it. There are large mountains that come into view with no warning that aren't there when you get back to the main road. All the hillsides are a blonde yellow.
You kind of have to shift the car into Neal Cassady on that road. It's one of those where, if you were to try and drive safely and sanely you would die. It's one of those roads where the designer thought, "I shall make a road where people will get in head on collisions at 70 mph."
When I got on the correct road, I was alone. I didn't encounter any other drivers until I finally got back onto Honey Run. The cemetery has a white picket fence around it for some reason.
I got out of the car and immediately almost stepped on a syringe. I thought, "What does this portend? Two syringes found in four days."
I hope it doesn't mean Rojas is going to show up in my life again.
Anyway, it's an old miner's cemetery that's now reserved for Centerville locals. It was all overgrown and the paths were spaces where people had walked many times through the brush, some of which was poison ivy. There's a lake behind it. I didn't see any that I wanted to make rubbings of, but it's kind of neat that there are crumbling, kicked over tombstones from the 1850s right next to people buried last year. There are also a few markers under trees away from all the others. Very slapdash. Everyone seems to be named "B.J. `Tex' Olsen" or "Arnie & Millie Kitchen." If I had a cemetery story to write, I'd set it there.
I don't have a cemetery story to write. Aside from what I just wrote.




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