(no subject)
1.25.06
The last time I remember sitting in this particular spot was a year ago in the midst of a soggy winter -- watching the bottoms of winter storm clouds rolling down the canyon, snagging on rocky peaks. Thinking of something I had written a few days before, something I wrote not to share, instead just wanting it out of my head:
poverty of experience, acceptance of loss - all thoughts lost in the attention deficit static. Coherence one word at a time. . .Yes I equivocate. Yes there is the everpresence of choice. But then surely as the caffeine flowing through my veins will soon be at the head of an electro-chemical chain, you do things to me. Yes, I am quite certain that there are networks of neurons activated by precise sequences of chemicals that only you can initiate. A drug. Your margin walking and sinuous jags - I see it all, blame you none, and struggle to be me. To breathe. . . I know better than to share myself with you.
Still reeling, more hurt than I let on, slowly moving on. F-16s hiss and roar kerosene doom, the sound of freedom is a homophone for the sound of the end of time.
Six months later in the core of the summer I passed this spot headed to the last escape from the afternoon heat - the shadow of a Palo Verde. Exhausted, well into my 9th liter of water, staring at the brown filth horizon in a state of dynamic equilibrium. Outrageous joy on one hand counterweighted by angry sadness on the other. I can't describe quite what I felt like without sounding overly dramatic, ie, my heart is a smoldering crater, soul fire carbon brain, etc. Alone, I'm almost at the point of no return - it was almost the time when I turned my back on everything and walked away.
Today started under clouds auspiciously signifying "rain." The only solar blessings came as sun shafts penetrating the glory holes in the clouds. Exist at the right point in spacetime and you, like me, would feel these protrusions tap your head in between stretches of shade. During the drive here, the radio voice announced a 30% chance of rain; indeed, the eastern third of the sky is swathed in clouds. I'm under the sunny 2/3rds.
Of course, the prediction was of no significance. As the day went on, rain would have made an imperceptible difference to me. I'm outside, wet feet or sweaty neck matters not.
Not too long after the weather, the radio-man played Grieg's "Holberg Suite" -- delightful. It lasted until the precise moment that I finished backing into the parking space at the trailhead - fortuitous to say the least. Every time I've been on my way to some mountain or isolate valley and either Grieg or Sibelius came on the radio, the trip would turn out fabulous.
Last March found "Finlandia" hailing our entry to the North Maricopa Mountains Wilderness - a vast empty sheet of green. My pants around my ankles, she using her arms to brace herself against a rock. Clamshells, hands on hips, skinny white cheeks proudly mooning the southern expanse, tickled by the first hints of rain. Electric skin at the first thunderclap of approval and we can't help but laugh at the sheer joy but soon all I lose everything to thoughts of the popcorn bloom of a flower expanding through every nerve fiber. Laughing, drained of motivation, outrageous smiles. Oh Finlandia!
Ascendant steps into other two years ago spring-time hills and smiling at "Pohjola's Daughter" marked the beginning of the sturm und drang that came into my life. I would chuckle, feeling a certain kinship with Väinämöinen as he ridiculously performed his hopeless tasks under the mocking voice of the northern maiden. At the time, Jen and I were trying to figure out something that we couldn't possibly know.
And today? A compromise between the scorch and wet freeze - toasty sun deep blue and a soft cool breeze. Today is the "princess's" last day, she being the latest in a long line of good people to leave this crap factory. I'm wondering what I'm going to say to her trying to break my somber mood, trying to think of a good laugh to be had. Maybe goodbye will have to be enough. Does it matter?
And you? What do I want to say to you?
Today, I came here to eat my lunch in peace.
This was transcribed from my notepad. More to come soon.
The last time I remember sitting in this particular spot was a year ago in the midst of a soggy winter -- watching the bottoms of winter storm clouds rolling down the canyon, snagging on rocky peaks. Thinking of something I had written a few days before, something I wrote not to share, instead just wanting it out of my head:
poverty of experience, acceptance of loss - all thoughts lost in the attention deficit static. Coherence one word at a time. . .Yes I equivocate. Yes there is the everpresence of choice. But then surely as the caffeine flowing through my veins will soon be at the head of an electro-chemical chain, you do things to me. Yes, I am quite certain that there are networks of neurons activated by precise sequences of chemicals that only you can initiate. A drug. Your margin walking and sinuous jags - I see it all, blame you none, and struggle to be me. To breathe. . . I know better than to share myself with you.
Still reeling, more hurt than I let on, slowly moving on. F-16s hiss and roar kerosene doom, the sound of freedom is a homophone for the sound of the end of time.
Six months later in the core of the summer I passed this spot headed to the last escape from the afternoon heat - the shadow of a Palo Verde. Exhausted, well into my 9th liter of water, staring at the brown filth horizon in a state of dynamic equilibrium. Outrageous joy on one hand counterweighted by angry sadness on the other. I can't describe quite what I felt like without sounding overly dramatic, ie, my heart is a smoldering crater, soul fire carbon brain, etc. Alone, I'm almost at the point of no return - it was almost the time when I turned my back on everything and walked away.
Today started under clouds auspiciously signifying "rain." The only solar blessings came as sun shafts penetrating the glory holes in the clouds. Exist at the right point in spacetime and you, like me, would feel these protrusions tap your head in between stretches of shade. During the drive here, the radio voice announced a 30% chance of rain; indeed, the eastern third of the sky is swathed in clouds. I'm under the sunny 2/3rds.
Of course, the prediction was of no significance. As the day went on, rain would have made an imperceptible difference to me. I'm outside, wet feet or sweaty neck matters not.
Not too long after the weather, the radio-man played Grieg's "Holberg Suite" -- delightful. It lasted until the precise moment that I finished backing into the parking space at the trailhead - fortuitous to say the least. Every time I've been on my way to some mountain or isolate valley and either Grieg or Sibelius came on the radio, the trip would turn out fabulous.
Last March found "Finlandia" hailing our entry to the North Maricopa Mountains Wilderness - a vast empty sheet of green. My pants around my ankles, she using her arms to brace herself against a rock. Clamshells, hands on hips, skinny white cheeks proudly mooning the southern expanse, tickled by the first hints of rain. Electric skin at the first thunderclap of approval and we can't help but laugh at the sheer joy but soon all I lose everything to thoughts of the popcorn bloom of a flower expanding through every nerve fiber. Laughing, drained of motivation, outrageous smiles. Oh Finlandia!
Ascendant steps into other two years ago spring-time hills and smiling at "Pohjola's Daughter" marked the beginning of the sturm und drang that came into my life. I would chuckle, feeling a certain kinship with Väinämöinen as he ridiculously performed his hopeless tasks under the mocking voice of the northern maiden. At the time, Jen and I were trying to figure out something that we couldn't possibly know.
And today? A compromise between the scorch and wet freeze - toasty sun deep blue and a soft cool breeze. Today is the "princess's" last day, she being the latest in a long line of good people to leave this crap factory. I'm wondering what I'm going to say to her trying to break my somber mood, trying to think of a good laugh to be had. Maybe goodbye will have to be enough. Does it matter?
And you? What do I want to say to you?
Today, I came here to eat my lunch in peace.
This was transcribed from my notepad. More to come soon.