Little Big Horn Sheep In The Valley of Fire

This post come to you from an internet vacuum... a desert wasteland deserted of cellular bars and bandwidth, and herbage, too, excepting Creosote Bush. How Creosote manages to grow in the lava rock and sand out here I'll never know, but it proves there is a place in this world for everything and everyone. You just gotta keep look'in till ya find it. I might as well get use to the shit-teh cell and wi fi service given the backwater places we end up in.

"Paved Paradise:" A Borderline Rant, Rated "R" For Nudity and Explicite Language

A la Joni Mitchell, "They paved paradise to put up a parking lot." But they didn't stop there. No, they had to build an eyebrow raising 240 million dollar four lane bridge... and connect it to a new freeway. Now, endless droves of Meg-aaahhh-po-less seniors and senior-itas from Sun City, Phoenicia, can hop a Greyhound and spend days upon daze inserting Social Security nickels into a one-armed bandit in good ole Lost Wages, Nevada.  It would be sad if it wasn't so pitiful; that if you build a gaudy, "fixed" Wishing Well, and the poorest among us will come, proceed to throw their last spare change and dollar bills into it and call it "fun." God help us.

Seams Like Only Yesterday (edited)

Like young love, those darn seams are driving me crazy. They're as hard to figure out as women. I just can't get a handle on them. Seams are not what they seem.  It seams like I'm dreaming; seams like old times; seams like only yesterday—all my troubles were so far away. It seams like I'll never figure Geology out. Ok, it's early. You we're expecting Thoreau at this hour? Click the "Read More" button to see what I mean and help me (if you can) figure out the "seams" in Valley of Fire.

El Diablo

We had been to Valley of Fire at least three previous times since '99, which was the first year of our—on-again off-again, can't-make-up-our-minds, come-and-go-from-sticks and bricks, semi-persuaded, back-to-work-cause-we've-run-out-of-money-again—RV lifestyle. But this time felt different. It must have been me, because I'm pretty sure the rocks haven't moved or changed all that much in 14 years.

"Nowhere Man, 'Isn't he a bit like you and me?'"

A song on Goldie's radio triggered memories of a troubled time. The year was 1966, and a wet-behind-the-ears kid watched Vietnam play out on the news every night... wondering if the "Death Machine" of our Industrial Military Complex would still be consuming high school graduates when he became "eligible" in a couple of years. Indeed, "Flower Power" was no match for the "Machine."  An unlucky draft lottery number put life and plans on hold, and brought the age of innocence to a screeching halt. Man-child had to become a man, practically overnight. It's hard to make a Life-plan when an "Invitation to War" stares you in the face from your dresser top.

Leaving Las Frios for Valle Del Fuego, and Assorted "Fridge Notes"

Impatient at being forced to postpone our departure from The Frozen Tundra of Le Crevice, I resorted to pacing in front of the Imax... cursing softly through clenched teeth and a forced grin. No need to drag Bobbie along on another one of my "Dark Side of The Moon" excursions. The rendezvous with Goldie in Saint George, Utah, was on hold until the southwest thawed out from near record cold. Wednesday noon we hugged Marathon Man Leonard goodbye... yes, he was wearing shorts... determined to put Los Frios and winter the rearview mirror.

It's A Winter Thing...

It's a winter thing, a vague oppressed feeling that's difficult to explain. Impatience, maybe, a longing for longer days and shorter nights. Winter sedates the clock, if not the calendar. From this wretched annual tomb springs a longing to shed my skin... cage, decorum... clothes... and throw caution to the minus 20 wind-chill. Memories of youth float to the surface like oil on water, teasing... taunting. I hear Janis, her ashes and spirit reach out from the cold, blue Pacific. She bawls, "Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose," and "I'd trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday... Lordy Lordy Lordy Lordy..."