Thursday, August 9, 1984

Ke'ie Beach, Hawaii Journal

Eating mangoes on Ke'ie Beach, 
this ropy lava, dull black pahoehoe 
with concentric swirls 
iridescent rainbow sheen
where it pooled and cracked 
like tree fingers.
We drive down to Keei Beach Rd, in Kealakekua, lava walls, white sands, and a sea grotto and channel protected by a reef. Ed says it's the local's beach. It's perfection. It's also the site of the Battle of Moku'ohai, King Kamehameha's first battle to gain control of the Big Island of Hawaii, across from where Captain Cook was eaten.

Of all the fish I see, only three or four are on my fish chart which has over hundred fish on it. I keep forgetting what day it is. I make a pact to write lots while I am here. Uncensored writing perhaps to draw from later. Matrix.

Why is it when after I've eaten half of a fruit, 
I discover the other half of the worm?

I've spent two nights on the Big Island. I not only haven't written much but the two days I scheduled to drive madly around the island were spent in Kona, of all places. 

Yesterday was spent getting to know someone, making up for a lost time that was never lost. It's strange to travel 2400 miles to find a cousin, a second cousin, so like me, but my male counterpart. 

We're exactly a year and a day apart. Our minds track the same patterns. We're accused of the same habits by our friends. We are Sagittarians, walking encyclopedias, trying everything in sight.  

Is it the stars or is it genetic that makes us so similar? Ed says coincidental comparisons are for nonbelievers. We are truly similar—at least from an artistic background, and the aesthetic and psychic realm as well. Our philosophies ring true. 

It seems I'm always the oddball out, the one with too much useless knowledge, or the one with too much squandered talent and creativity, or the one going nine ways at once. It's both a blessing and a curse to have a runaway mind. 

And here's someone else just like me. I always attributed it to the Reilly side of the family. No, Ed and I are way too much alike. We are spawned from the same pond. So it's from my grandmother's Walsh side, this zaniness. 

Many mammals, especially rodents recognize kin. Animals sharing the same DNA seem to have an affinity for one another and will protect kin closest to them first. Can we recognize kin instinctively, intuitively? 

I am staying with a man whom I literally don't know, haven't ever even talk to except at weddings, family gatherings, or funerals where we had made no deep connections. I don't remember him, other than having a vague memory of playing with him on a white carpet underneath a piano. We were less than five years old. Where were we? In LA, at his parents' place?

I made a phone call to my stranger cousin out of the blue form my hotel room. I was so scared—what did I fear?  I had wakened him. He was hung over, from the night before. But he said Come on up for coffee. I had a rental car and drove up Napoopoo road to the coffee plantation.

And we toured the coffee plantation, and shared meals, we couldn't stop talking the whole day. His lips telling me my stories, reiterating my thoughts. I begin to feel like a parrot saying yes yes yes. It's almost as if we were twins. 

Because his rising sign is Virgo, and mine is Gemini, the two cornerstones seem to balance. The Virgin and the twins. Less than 24 hours have passed, and I can't measure time by years, nor minutes. There is no shrapnel shaped time. Time is soft, fluid like bursa. 

We bent elbows and knees and pay homage to the burial bones on an island far from home. Coming back home to this place where I've never been. 

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