New Haven to Boston, Part 3

CONNECTICUT BEGINS WITH THE SOUTHERN, NORTHERN TRAFFIC OF THIS RIVER.

YOU GOT I.D. ON YOU?

8am, sitting on the bridge, Connecticut state police pulls up. Among the drivers passing, “a couple people” have made worried calls about me. He’s either a jumper or a terrorist. The cop takes in the view and says “I can see why you’re doin’ this, though.” The spare, straightforward beauty against the slow action of the sunrise. My whole mind is transformed and brought to a good state. (The first automobile bridge was built here in 1911, the toll was five cents. This eight-line bridge was put up in 1993.) [See sketch.] The cop sets me back on my way, gets me walking again.

[The last great impression I had was the solace from that sunrise? I felt like a poet. I’m a little depressed now, late at night, poring over these weather-beaten old pocket notebooks in order to type them up. But I should strive to be faithful to the original, hard-won impressions of the world.]

“Having lived, one has done more becoming [I wrote, flinching and striving], one must have become more of something.” And—“ART: you have to collude with a big lie, but it’s the GREAT LIE that humans can truthfully depict ORDER and PROCESS (to a goal).”