I moved like a metronome. I picked out my tombstone. There were no gray areas except for the office walls. I had an arrangement; it should run its course. But the hours mounted like the Sierras, so I stopped to meet the God inside and kill it promptly with whiskey and words. But I stopped. Until I noticed a large blank spot on a map, so I crossed a few mountains-- don't recall which ones. The point was to get across. And I came out on a long, spectacular grade, down from snow-jeweled granite toward a rich field of barren tan. It might be warm there.
So I went down, out of the high thrusts and pine-pricked scree, through counties of scrub juniper gin, hard to outrun. I went down, past a few rusted hulks and faded shacks that were a good idea, lower, toward a vast dry lake, where Ed Abbey's sunburnt ghost reclined on a large thrum of pumice and cracked open a rusty Pabst. "You should shut off that damn petrol-swilling beast", he opined. "You don't know the first thing about the opera. You don't know who lives here. I bet you can't even remember the numbers of your last three highways". Had to concede that one. And I went on, lower, past Abbey and his rusted Pabst, toward the vast dry lake, where it might be warm. And quiet.
heading out
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jour-ney
yes it is a day of travel, and quite intriging
hve not been on a journey as such in quite some time! thanx
hve not been on a journey as such in quite some time! thanx
To "flesh out" my internal myths on renewal by separation seems to infuse me with a more positive sort of energy and help bury noise, in general... kind of a hard thing to figure. Thank you, Cecil and creativesoul. I might write more about Abbey's ghost-- seems an irresistible image to me. He was one hell of a great writer and true explorer of deep wilderness space, but man he could be a prick at times...
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ahh-- at times
yes at times perhaps when i am so sure of what i am feeling
so overly confident even arrogant, that i could judge another
ah but i am guilty
the memory brings back some conflict with a certain savy atmosphere of humor and love
that a friend of mine should dare to disagree with me
and walk away laughing shaking his head
yes it is true
these moments are truth in colors of blindness and sight
so overly confident even arrogant, that i could judge another
ah but i am guilty
the memory brings back some conflict with a certain savy atmosphere of humor and love
that a friend of mine should dare to disagree with me
and walk away laughing shaking his head
yes it is true
these moments are truth in colors of blindness and sight
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