My head was throbbing like an unfortunately erect waterbed. The sun was beating down with more intensity than met my liking. There was a local farmer's market nearby. That morning, I had awoken alone in my tent with a peculiar lack of memory but an immediate concern for that reason. I took care in unzipping my sleeping bag and slipping into pants from the night before. I had begun to plod toward last night's fire and was shortly in the presence of friends. They all had a look of relieved awareness. I was a bit embarrassed at how drunk I had become the previous night, but we were all glad to be together that Saturday morning.
Joshua Tree National Park and the surrounding area are breathtaking. If one has not visited, they ought to highly consider it, because the serenity of the flat & rocky desert is something to behold. That morning, we were all helping ourselves to breakfast, some of us cradling the fire. Some of us, myself included, had ascended the nearby small mountain of rocks to enjoy food & coffee. I must have thought that this higher vantage point would elevate me above the hangover I was so desperately trying to outrun. There I sat with Ruby catching up on life in a way we hadn't yet that weekend, and I took in the beautiful land below and in front of us. We (I, more slowly than others) packed camp, cleaned up, and loaded the cars to reenter the default world.
Joshua Tree National Park and the surrounding area are breathtaking. If one has not visited, they ought to highly consider it, because the serenity of the flat & rocky desert is something to behold. That morning, we were all helping ourselves to breakfast, some of us cradling the fire. Some of us, myself included, had ascended the nearby small mountain of rocks to enjoy food & coffee. I must have thought that this higher vantage point would elevate me above the hangover I was so desperately trying to outrun. There I sat with Ruby catching up on life in a way we hadn't yet that weekend, and I took in the beautiful land below and in front of us. We (I, more slowly than others) packed camp, cleaned up, and loaded the cars to reenter the default world.
We headed west on 62 toward Twenty Nine Palms, CA, where we had heard of some nifty spot or other for coffee & healthy bites. We waited in line for an obscene amount of time nestled among others that looked as if they were in Echo Park. And we finally received our breakfast. I retreated for a cigarette. Although, I didn't quite want one, I so much looked forward to another moment of alone time now, once back in the that normal world. Standing there, looking beyond the line-up of Priuses and into the far-off ranges of desert mountains, a stranger approached me. A man about my age, wearing an open uncured leather vest and various trinkets, confronted me in the friendliest of ways and asked me what my favorite color was. I replied. Orange. "What is your second favorite color?" Green. He pulls a penny and roll of nylon string out of pocket. As he pulls the string around my wrist to measure its circumference, I realize what he is doing and mention that I don't have cash on me... Bur he insists with a smile.
I stand there, offering one my smokes to him and exchanging light conversation, trying to understand where he had come from and what brought him to be a seemingly hippie crafts creator in the high desert of Southern California. He replied, but never deeply as to fully answer my question. As cynical as I am, I enjoyed his presence, and he seemed to reciprocate. And my friends exited the restaurant to join me. Something in their interaction with this new friend sparked a haste in him that led him quickly to tie off my new gift and move on to the next suspecting "customer."
I wished him luck. On the car ride home, post-smoothie, we listened to a podcast and discussed the truly wonderful prior day and evening. It was a beautiful day, blue skies devoid of clouds, almost identical to the one before it. And the one or two weeks following. We drove for another 150 miles. We arrived in the San Fernando Valley, ready for shower and clean clothes. Myself, a night without alcohol and with a cuddle from someone special. I hope I'd never lose this feeling. Because no matter how difficult, this feeling of raw life experience is the best proof of being alive.
Oct 2019
- 7Ply Epic
I stand there, offering one my smokes to him and exchanging light conversation, trying to understand where he had come from and what brought him to be a seemingly hippie crafts creator in the high desert of Southern California. He replied, but never deeply as to fully answer my question. As cynical as I am, I enjoyed his presence, and he seemed to reciprocate. And my friends exited the restaurant to join me. Something in their interaction with this new friend sparked a haste in him that led him quickly to tie off my new gift and move on to the next suspecting "customer."
I wished him luck. On the car ride home, post-smoothie, we listened to a podcast and discussed the truly wonderful prior day and evening. It was a beautiful day, blue skies devoid of clouds, almost identical to the one before it. And the one or two weeks following. We drove for another 150 miles. We arrived in the San Fernando Valley, ready for shower and clean clothes. Myself, a night without alcohol and with a cuddle from someone special. I hope I'd never lose this feeling. Because no matter how difficult, this feeling of raw life experience is the best proof of being alive.
Oct 2019
- 7Ply Epic