I’ve put together a new blog, this one written by my imaginary friend Sorrell, about his new home on the Isle of Wake. Join him as he explores a world of wonders!

Harubaru * Far and Wide: Letters from an Imaginary Island

While the passing of the second year following the New York tragedy still hovers over American minds, I wandered around a bit through the internet, perusing what people might be saying about it. As expected the Net, press, and television are inundated with the same old American self-pity and “we had it worse than anyone else in history” mumbo-jumbo. The sentimentalism is cloying, the excuses nauseating, and the self-righteousness impossible to sympathize with.

Lately I’ve been contemplating the need for lightening my load. This is meant in all aspects of my life. The idea first took root three years ago when, upon returning from a five day walk in the North Alps, my knees ached so badly from the enormous weight of my backpack that for nearly six months the nerve at the side of my left knee remained numb. I carried all the “right” equipment: all the stuff that the outdoor magazines had insisted were necessary for a safe and successful spell out in the “dangers” of nature. I was protected out there and instead of relying more on my brain for coping with emergencies and circumstances, I limned myself with all manner of gadgets that would make my time in the wild less stressful.

The window is open and through the screen drifts the music of various crickets all rehearsing for the Autumn Gala. The repetitious strokes of the Common Cricket, the melodious. liquid-like warble of Teleogryllus yemma, the slow-sawing buzz of Loxeblemmus doenitzi, the high-pitched, metallic twitter of Ornebius kanetataki, and, later this evening, the non-stop, ringing vibrato of the non-native tree cricket Calyptotrypus hibinonis, which fill the trees like the chorus from the Aida, a musical rhapsody just above your head.