Confessions of a Lip Biter

I’ve always love summer storms. Secret? When I was 18, I lived in a small town in Oregon. And on stormy summer nights, I would lie in bed restless until I couldn’t resist: I’d grab this big yellow fisherman’s rain coat out of the front hall(probably left there by some junkie—it was somewhat a punk house) and I would run around town in the dead of night—wearing nothing but my undies under (because it was so sweltering hot in that rubber jacket). And if I were feeling PARTICULARLY restless…I would make my way to the docks, strip completely and leap into the Columbian River with my loudest shriek—daring someone in that sleepy town to come out and catch me. It felt magical: wading nude in the warm water while lightning lit up the sky and cool raindrops fell on my face…and every once in a while I’d see the large shadow of a sea lion swimming beneath me. Then I would go back to my little blue room and scribble away in my journal (this was pre-blog era). I was convinced that someday I would forget my youth and that my journals would be the only way my adventures would never die. How could I know that I would relive them year after year with every summer rainy night….