posted by the dog @ 12:17 PM
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OVER THE LAZY DOG
All things excellent are as difficult as they are rare.
Friday, May 23, 2008
We arrived. The girl left. I moved into the house I rented, bought a bike to supplement the car, and settled in for a three month stint in the desert. I enjoy meeting new people, I love philosophy with all my heart, and this city was amenable to both. Quite suddenly and unexpectedly, my world was wide with challenge and opportunity. During those first few weeks I felt free in a way I hadn't in years.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Everything breaks down eventually. What matters is whether you get where you're going before it happens. In this case, I didn't. A hundred and fifty miles outside of the nearest city, the girl and I spent close to three hours stranded on a cold desert highway, talking, reading, turning things over.
We could see the 18-wheelers coming for miles in the rear view mirror. The gusts they made as they passed by rocked the car rhythmically every few moments. Our tow truck driver was an ex-convict, jailed--he said--two years for car theft and assault on a judge. We talked about weather, politics, motorcycle gangs, dead bodies, and some odd points in between. Interesting guy.
From the cab of the truck we had an excellent view as we drove into the foothills of the Rockies. I had never seen mountains before. They were beautiful.
We could see the 18-wheelers coming for miles in the rear view mirror. The gusts they made as they passed by rocked the car rhythmically every few moments. Our tow truck driver was an ex-convict, jailed--he said--two years for car theft and assault on a judge. We talked about weather, politics, motorcycle gangs, dead bodies, and some odd points in between. Interesting guy.
From the cab of the truck we had an excellent view as we drove into the foothills of the Rockies. I had never seen mountains before. They were beautiful.
posted by the dog @ 12:36 AM
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Friday, May 16, 2008
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Looking back, I'm not sure there was an answer to the question: Why go to the desert? I just went. One moment I was here, and the next I was speeding down the highway out onto the plains, a girl, a wardrobe, and a small library of political philosophy packed into the corners of my '96 Lumina.
Of course there were reasons for going. But I'm not sure any of them, respectable though they were, was my reason. With the benefit of hindsight, I think my real reason had something to do with 'getting lost,' in its most colloquial of senses. Who knows. The question now is: Can I find my way back?
Of course there were reasons for going. But I'm not sure any of them, respectable though they were, was my reason. With the benefit of hindsight, I think my real reason had something to do with 'getting lost,' in its most colloquial of senses. Who knows. The question now is: Can I find my way back?
posted by the dog @ 4:44 PM
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