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Hollow-Holler

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August 28, 2006 - 3:00

Yesterday I went to the river with friends. I sat cross-legged in the river bed, discreetly pumicing my feet with river rock while Sarah and I talked about girl's bodies and her art. Crossing the river barefoot against heavy currents, while my feet repeatedly slipped on slime to be bludgeoned by stones, I became incensed and wanted to quit, but thought of how this was just like "life". I mean, come on Rachael- buck up asshole. Once you get to the swimming hole (our destination), this trek will have been worth it! I wonder when will I learn to abandon the metaphoric formula that life's drudgery will eventually be rewarded with the promise of something relevant and grand; it only bums me out when my metaphors fall flat. Though the swimming hole was lovely indeed, with a little waterfall that I was too afraid to swim out to. The stagnant pools of river water frankly sketched me out, not because of nature and its slime, but because of human and dog slime. But what's nice are the heavily currented areas, where if you stood against its flow, your lower legs created enough resistance to make crashes in the water, and if you bent over you felt like you're moving instead of the other way around. The sand at this river had strange properties, reminding me of the magnetized bearded man game you can buy for cheap at a grocery store.
That night Zac and I heard a woman emit animal screams over and over from where we were in the parking lot. The screams were awful, very clearly for mercy. Not attention, or vengeance, or passion. A man's low bark responded to it everytime with "Get up! Get back in the car!", but her screaming never stopped. Zac and I rushed over to the freeway outlet where it was coming from, along with the security guard who was in the parking lot at the time. At this point the woman was back in the vehicle (which was parked at a stand-still in the middle of the road) but there was a stirring commotion inside the vehicle, and semi-muffled woman sounds. We waited at the sidewalk where they would eventually have to drive past us and we could lift their DL number. Which was 951 CJV, if you happen to notice a large van with multiple ladders on the roof. The security guard had notified police upon first hearing her, but they didn't arrive in time to intervene. Too busy with their bear claw pastries and Postum I guess. The van was spotted a few minutes later driving the wrong direction up the same freeway outlet. My concern stays with me, only because I've never heard screams like that before.

I almost cried and puked simultaneously when I heard it.