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The wind is angry, she lashes at my pennant slowly and methodically beating it to death.  The boat lurches in a gust and my internet dies, the sounds of the spring storm are my only company, the Erie moan matches my mood.  Time stands still… With a ping I’m alerted that my small connection to the outside world is back and I follow the trail of my electronic mail to Katie and Jessie on a boat.

I lay back in my bunk and contemplate words. Words like journey and authentic.  I ask myself, is it possible to tell an authentic story and still create an authentic life; or do we merely become puppets on the end of a string dancing and performing for people we will never meet, people we will never know and most importantly people who have never and will never care about us beyond the superficial shell that amuses them in thier time of need for escape.

From the very first day we met through the web, the photography and writing of Jessie’s has held a deep place in my heart.  I had never heard of the blog until the one day I had a chance meeting with her father, a very generous and kind man, the type of person you would expect to have raised such a stellar young force in this world.

A good story, the truly authentic type needs more than good character development, it needs truly authentic charters, enter Katie, co captian and co conspirator.  Two young humans, practically children by today’s standards when they set off but what they lacked in experience they gained through chemistry, teamwork and mutual trust, more elements in an authentic journey.

Over the years I’ve read every word, dissected ever image and played them like an old time movie in my head while the story unfolded in front of my eyes.  The gaps always filled to the exact preportions necessary to tell enough of the story without ever stepping across that invisible line where an adventurous soul is lost to the story, or the readers or…

Just a few days ago I was bitching to a friend that there are no authentic stories being told, no blogs worth reading and no writers that aren’t in it for more than the misguided attention one receives from the blogosphere. More than ever I needed to be reminded that there is and there are Truly talented individuals out there telling a real story of a real adventure.  And so today I stand corrected as I followed a link to a story that is far and away beyond any form of art, authentic is far too small of a word for Five miles per hour

I finish the essay, turn off my iPad and fall asleep listening to the sounds of the storm.  My last memories before drifting off into that private world where all your dreams can come true are the words journey and authentic, if you don’t know the definition of either of these words you might just click here and go for a magic carpet ride…

From the log of Sookie,   Most people in this world despise authenticity, mostly because they are envious of it.

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