Regarding the above map in reference to my summer romance with Eli - I spent the first month as a counselor to spoiled slutty hellions. It was like living in a cabin full of myself at that age and it was TOUGH. ( Try sitting in on a meeting about how you let your 12 (but I'm almost 13!) year old camper out of your sight long enough for her to get caught blowing a counselor in training.) Um lets see, I was never there after they fell asleep and the brats weren't morons! Sneaking out to Eli's was easy - he lived in Boy teen village and I lived right across that small path in girls teen. When I went (read: it was mutual) to horseback second session, I lived over near the girls camp, in a staff cabin, past that tennis racket icon... That was what we call the walk of shame, getting caught walking around Lake Wendy in the morning... Luckily horseback staff started way before everyone else, so I usually just brought my work clothes and walked straight to the dining hall from his (literally) tent. At least it had a platform, which was quite useful for late night calls of the wild...
I thought it appropriate to start with some of the poems I copied into this journal from the kind of decrepit notebook only a writer could visualize... This is a fun poem I wrote when I was getting ready to leave for the hills of Georgia...
For My Friends While I'm Away (c)
Do some drugs
and think of me
bitching to bugs
in 110 degree
your laugh an echo in my head
I hope my girls don't wet the bed
and that there will be pot to smoke
that kosher food won't make me choke
So shake your head and roll your eyes
but if Orit can do it, so can I
So write me lots and party hard
We'll see if I'm the camp retard
That comes home from a hike to say;
" I lost only one camper, it's been a good day."
In ten short weeks I will return
Of course there'll be a joint to burn
Of course there'll be new boys to meet
preferably ones who eat cheese on meat.