heading out

[mnaz]

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.

[mnaz]

Sorry, gone retro...

No more dust-borne escapist illusions after this.


Well... maybe a few.

[mtmynd]

how close to reality do you live..? sounds good wherever it may be.

[creativesoul]

yes it is a day of travel, and quite intriging
hve not been on a journey as such in quite some time! thanx

[mnaz]

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...

[creativesoul]

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