(no subject)

[chthonia]

It's raining unbelievably hard, so I've put off today's errands (on no small account because the windshield wipers on my lemon of a truck tend to stop working unexpectedly, enhancing my appreciation of life through paroxysmal near-death experiences). Fall always puts me in a reflective mood, so I'm wasting the afternoon sipping absinthe, reading my old (paper) journals, and sorting through old photographs. Damn. What a long strange trip it's been. And how the hell did I get so old?! LOL! Perhaps the greater question is how the hell am I still alive! Being a little drunk, I started to reflect here on my past, but I got bored about 1987 and deleted it. Lucky you! Instead, I will leave you with two pictures of sunsets I found while sorting through old photos. The first one is in Lincoln National Park just over the Texas border from New Mexico. It was taken on a caving trip a number of years ago. The second picture is sunset over the San Miguel reservoir in Ixcatlan, Mexico. We camped on the beach that night, and the sunset really was that color. All night I kept hearing strange snorting noises from the direction of my friend Doug's sleeping bag and wondered just what the hell he was doing in there. The next morning, I woke up surrounded by horses and realized it wasn't Doug making those weird noises. We also woke up to a large group of locals who had gathered to stand around staring at the pallid Americans. Next to the beauty of the reservoir, I most vividly remember the town outhouse perched on the slope leading down to the lake. It was a one-holer with a tattered curtain, perched on a steep slope so that the hogs roaming on the shore could wait under the seat for breakfast.

You know, Oscar Wilde could sip absinthe and write something like Salome. I sip absinthe and find myself writing about hogs and outhouses. *shakes head sadly* I'll stop now.