Haven't posted in a while. On the trip I felt like I had a reason to post stuff, but now I find myself just dribbling on and on about casual observations or made up conversations between myself and disconsolate leafs. Let's not fool ourselves though, chances are I'd have blogged about leafs complaining somewhere down the line anyways, whether I was here in Seattle or far away in New York.
Yesterday, my good buddies Galen, Chris(sy), and I went to Ballard. It was nice because I haven't really kicked it with them in a while. Chrissy just had her first day off in like 30 days and Galen has been busy relentlessly trying to change people like me's stubborn misconceptions about politics.
We went to a bar that had a really big fish tank in it. I got my drinks first (Hennessey x2), and went to sit down. Well, I had barely sat myself down when an older women (could've been 35-40) came and decided I needed company because I had two drinks in my hand and was by myself. She came down practically on top of me and said, "Where's the pool table?" I said, "I don't know, it'd be nice to play some pool." She said, "Yeah I know, I want to kick some butt, preferably yours." Yikes.
Welp, anyone who knows me is well aware that this sorta thing would make me quite uncomfortable. It's the kinda thing a close friend would think to do if they wanted to play a prank on me (have an old lady hit on me). She asked about a braclet I have had on my wrist for about two years now, and said she'd had something similar when she was young. She asked how old I was and she briefly touched the braclet and pulled my arm a little with it, and I couldn't believe it was taking Chris and Galen so long to get their drinks. I said I was 22, and she said, "yeah, so young, and a great skin complexion." Just before she could get to my Hennessey and swallow my soul, Galen and Chrissy arrived. Crisis safely averted. She scared the bejesus out of me. I am glad the bar didn't have a pool table.
Today, I went to read as I normally do when I am not working, and the sun was out as best it could on a November day half in winter. There were a few spindly clouds in the sky overhead that gave off an impression of cobwebs, but cobwebs a person afraid of spiders could really like. The light is always on my side on days like this.
I like the smell of coffee right after it is poured and right before it is cool enough to drink. Maybe you have to like coffee (or at least be addicted to it) to really appreciate the smell I am talking about, but I don't think so- if you want, substitute hot chocolate in its place. The smell itself is a placebo. I take it in and immediately feel like things are turning around for me. And what’s greater still, nothing has to change in my life or improve at all for me to keep thinking the same thing the next time. Isn’t that amazing!? There is no way to debunk my belief that I am turning a new leaf right then and there. It’s really quite irrational. Magical drug. The crappier things may get, the more I want it. And I don't feel bad about it, because here I am, sitting smack dab in the middle of a bunch of people just as addicted and crazed as me, all wanting that fix to save them from their problems- you know, at least make them/me feel like their/my problems are gonna dissolve soon enough. I am not saying I find solace at the bottom of the coffee cup, but maybe at the bottom of a second one. A similar event happens at bars, ice cream shops, and Disneyland. You can't just go on Splash Mountain once or just have one scoop of ice cream- unless it is mint chocolate chip. never been a fan.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Saturday, October 25, 2008
grand scene for a color film
Sorry I haven't posted anything new in a while. I am too busy getting parking tickets, playing in fallen leaves, and fighting crime.
I picked a great time to be back in Seattle. The leaves are all changing colors and really going out and doing something with themselves. I couldn't be more proud of them. They inspire me to go out and doing something with myself too. It sure is a great time to be a leaf. You're probably thinking I am not looking at the full picture, because shortly all the leaves I speak of will be dried up and dead on the ground, forced against their will to be piled up and jumped on by little kids and people like me who just love jumping into piles of leaves. But, is there any better way to go? No, probably not. If I could talk to a leaf, and a leaf could talk back, I know exactly how the conversation would go.
I would say, "bummer about that whole falling off your perch and being jumped on thing."
And it would say, "You can say that again. I was hoping I was gonna change colors and then it would get better, like what a butterfly goes through."
And I'd say, "Yeah, but butterflies are selfish. You don't want to be selfish. Think of all the people you make happy. Of whom, I include myself. We all owe you a debt of gratitude for your unselfish attitude and your display of patriotism."
And it would say, "Yeah, I guess you're right Zach. I am not surprised though, you always are. Who do those communist butterflies think they are? -Self-righteous pricks."
And then I'd rake him/her up with all its leaf buddies now smiling, accepting their role and place in the world (strictly to please me), and I'd jump into them with all the zeal that people have who jump into piles of leaves.
I guess I could have picked a better time to be back in Seattle, because if I had come back maybe one minute later or earlier, I might not have gotten those parking tickets. Maybe even a fraction of a s second would have done fine.
I am not fighting crime.
I picked a great time to be back in Seattle. The leaves are all changing colors and really going out and doing something with themselves. I couldn't be more proud of them. They inspire me to go out and doing something with myself too. It sure is a great time to be a leaf. You're probably thinking I am not looking at the full picture, because shortly all the leaves I speak of will be dried up and dead on the ground, forced against their will to be piled up and jumped on by little kids and people like me who just love jumping into piles of leaves. But, is there any better way to go? No, probably not. If I could talk to a leaf, and a leaf could talk back, I know exactly how the conversation would go.
I would say, "bummer about that whole falling off your perch and being jumped on thing."
And it would say, "You can say that again. I was hoping I was gonna change colors and then it would get better, like what a butterfly goes through."
And I'd say, "Yeah, but butterflies are selfish. You don't want to be selfish. Think of all the people you make happy. Of whom, I include myself. We all owe you a debt of gratitude for your unselfish attitude and your display of patriotism."
And it would say, "Yeah, I guess you're right Zach. I am not surprised though, you always are. Who do those communist butterflies think they are? -Self-righteous pricks."
And then I'd rake him/her up with all its leaf buddies now smiling, accepting their role and place in the world (strictly to please me), and I'd jump into them with all the zeal that people have who jump into piles of leaves.
I guess I could have picked a better time to be back in Seattle, because if I had come back maybe one minute later or earlier, I might not have gotten those parking tickets. Maybe even a fraction of a s second would have done fine.
I am not fighting crime.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Dentists make the best friends
Well, that didn't last long. Seattle came and went. The caged bird sings the saddest song, right?
Actually, I left Seattle because I had a doctor's appointment, but since I really have no idea what I want to do with myself, I look at it as another re-evaulation checkpoint. I call it a "re-evaluation checkpoint" because I am indecisive. Sure, you might be saying I should just call it what it is- nothing more than a real good inability to make a decision (a rather inconseauential one too, maybe?), but "being indecisive" doesn't have the same ring; the same pazazz. The luster is missing, so it's out. People won't buy it, and I shouldn't sell it. Plus, it is about time to start buffing up that resume til it shines, so I figured I'd start by calling lots of stuff what it actually is not- I can't believe how people transform themselves on resumes, and worse, that employers actually buy it. In my opinion, trap doors under chairs opposite the employer are built for interviews with people who beef up and over-glorify themselves to such ridiculuos proportions. I am not saying a little pride is a bad thing, but I do believe it goes a long way.
Tangent aside, I am in Vancouver for who-knows-how-long and it is turning out to be good for me. I am like a car getting maintaince check-ups. I have to go to the doctor which kinda stinks, but hopefully if all goes as planned, I'll be as good as new with as little work as is needed. In addition, I got to go to the dentist today and I can't even tell you how good those trips make me feel. My teeth are shiny and so clean you could eat off them (ladies? care to try? No, no. I kid, how could I miss such an opportunity? But seriously, just one kiss?). AND, even better than that, my whistle has improved 10-fold because they got this one spot between my two front bottom teeth where a little plac was. I DO love whistling, and I love the comfortable chair I get to sit in, and I love conversing with the woman that cleans my teeth. She let me listen to a Billy Joel cd I brought in, and we laughed and laughed. I always feel bad when I go in and disappoint my dentist, so it means a lot when they approve of my brushing and flossing. I feel like a little kid in front of them, just aching for their approval, and when they give me that thumbs up or comment on the quality of my gums, I can't hardly contain my excitment. I see and hear fireworks, really.
Anyways, tangent aside again, I am indecisive. That's where we were I think. I won't beat around the bush with formalities anymore. "Re-evaluation checkpoint" was fun for a while, but formalities aren't for me. I don't want to fall down my own trap door after all, am I right? Who's with me? I am. I really like the idea of not questioning myself and just doing what makes me happy for a little while, but not questioning myself I cannot do. What makes me happy? Hell if I know. Baby steps I guess. I do know one thing that I can work off of: I don't want a career right now. I think there is a difference between a job and a career, and while a job is not something I can afford avoiding, a career is. I want to work at a bookstore, and why not? I like books. I like bookstores. I like people (more often than not). I like to read, which could come in handy if I get discounts on books. And, I like discounts on books, which could come in handy since I like to read.
Tangent aside, I really have "Vienna" by Billy Joel stuck in my head. Today after my date with the dentist (not a stretch to call it that- it was good more me, and I am betting it was good for them) Billy Joel's "Only the Good Die Young" started playing on the regular radio right after she gave me my Billy Joel cd back. Well, you better believe that got a good laugh. I started singing and she started singing and it was great. Really only I started singing. I pictured the whole office kinda movin together to the beat and having the collective best time at a dentist office that any one group of people could ever have- Everyone in the chairs kinda swinging their feet back and forth in unision and all the dental assistants and dentists singing and bopping around while they worked (us in the chair can't very well sing with our mouths forced to stay open during the duration of the song). In fact, I'd seal it up and say my life's complete if I could actualize that scene.
I can't wait to go back to the dentist. What was I talking about? Oh yeah, I am writing a short story about a man who can't find the moon. I might need some critical eyes to chew it up and spit it out. Or just read it and tell me what needs to be better, because I won't know by watching you eat it. I need help, but I am not a baby bird waiting to be fed. And you are not birds. I kinda wish at least some of you were though because I don't know any birds. Not caged birds though, I hear they are depressing (sad songs and all). Maybe an eagle? Anywho, there is more to the story than just a man not being a ble to find the moon. If there weren't I wouldn't need anyone to look at it, because there would be nothing to look at. You'd be looking at it.
How 'bout that Billy Joel, huh?
Actually, I left Seattle because I had a doctor's appointment, but since I really have no idea what I want to do with myself, I look at it as another re-evaulation checkpoint. I call it a "re-evaluation checkpoint" because I am indecisive. Sure, you might be saying I should just call it what it is- nothing more than a real good inability to make a decision (a rather inconseauential one too, maybe?), but "being indecisive" doesn't have the same ring; the same pazazz. The luster is missing, so it's out. People won't buy it, and I shouldn't sell it. Plus, it is about time to start buffing up that resume til it shines, so I figured I'd start by calling lots of stuff what it actually is not- I can't believe how people transform themselves on resumes, and worse, that employers actually buy it. In my opinion, trap doors under chairs opposite the employer are built for interviews with people who beef up and over-glorify themselves to such ridiculuos proportions. I am not saying a little pride is a bad thing, but I do believe it goes a long way.
Tangent aside, I am in Vancouver for who-knows-how-long and it is turning out to be good for me. I am like a car getting maintaince check-ups. I have to go to the doctor which kinda stinks, but hopefully if all goes as planned, I'll be as good as new with as little work as is needed. In addition, I got to go to the dentist today and I can't even tell you how good those trips make me feel. My teeth are shiny and so clean you could eat off them (ladies? care to try? No, no. I kid, how could I miss such an opportunity? But seriously, just one kiss?). AND, even better than that, my whistle has improved 10-fold because they got this one spot between my two front bottom teeth where a little plac was. I DO love whistling, and I love the comfortable chair I get to sit in, and I love conversing with the woman that cleans my teeth. She let me listen to a Billy Joel cd I brought in, and we laughed and laughed. I always feel bad when I go in and disappoint my dentist, so it means a lot when they approve of my brushing and flossing. I feel like a little kid in front of them, just aching for their approval, and when they give me that thumbs up or comment on the quality of my gums, I can't hardly contain my excitment. I see and hear fireworks, really.
Anyways, tangent aside again, I am indecisive. That's where we were I think. I won't beat around the bush with formalities anymore. "Re-evaluation checkpoint" was fun for a while, but formalities aren't for me. I don't want to fall down my own trap door after all, am I right? Who's with me? I am. I really like the idea of not questioning myself and just doing what makes me happy for a little while, but not questioning myself I cannot do. What makes me happy? Hell if I know. Baby steps I guess. I do know one thing that I can work off of: I don't want a career right now. I think there is a difference between a job and a career, and while a job is not something I can afford avoiding, a career is. I want to work at a bookstore, and why not? I like books. I like bookstores. I like people (more often than not). I like to read, which could come in handy if I get discounts on books. And, I like discounts on books, which could come in handy since I like to read.
Tangent aside, I really have "Vienna" by Billy Joel stuck in my head. Today after my date with the dentist (not a stretch to call it that- it was good more me, and I am betting it was good for them) Billy Joel's "Only the Good Die Young" started playing on the regular radio right after she gave me my Billy Joel cd back. Well, you better believe that got a good laugh. I started singing and she started singing and it was great. Really only I started singing. I pictured the whole office kinda movin together to the beat and having the collective best time at a dentist office that any one group of people could ever have- Everyone in the chairs kinda swinging their feet back and forth in unision and all the dental assistants and dentists singing and bopping around while they worked (us in the chair can't very well sing with our mouths forced to stay open during the duration of the song). In fact, I'd seal it up and say my life's complete if I could actualize that scene.
I can't wait to go back to the dentist. What was I talking about? Oh yeah, I am writing a short story about a man who can't find the moon. I might need some critical eyes to chew it up and spit it out. Or just read it and tell me what needs to be better, because I won't know by watching you eat it. I need help, but I am not a baby bird waiting to be fed. And you are not birds. I kinda wish at least some of you were though because I don't know any birds. Not caged birds though, I hear they are depressing (sad songs and all). Maybe an eagle? Anywho, there is more to the story than just a man not being a ble to find the moon. If there weren't I wouldn't need anyone to look at it, because there would be nothing to look at. You'd be looking at it.
How 'bout that Billy Joel, huh?
Monday, October 13, 2008
Seattle. again? yes, again.
Oh man, a lot has happened since my last post. Most notably of that lot is my current location. I am in Seattle. Seattle is a city tucked away in the northwest. It has bad sports teams and is often rainy this time of year, but it offers colorful trees and good friends (colorful trees are limited to the time of year too).
So, why am I here? Avoiding an existential crisis, I'll answer this question as it pertains only to my current location. As you, my friends and family (maybe a government agency?) know, I was on a road trip with my good buddy Brett- Brett won't always rub aloe on your back, but a good friend he is. We were headed around the country slow and steady like any two people mindful of the tortoise and the hare story, but we ran into a wall. The wall was a job. A job for Brett. Fret not. It was not like we stopped to get gas and I went to the bathroom and when I came back to get in the car, he had a job. We both knew we had different aspirations for the trip when we started it, so I have no bad blood. He found something he likes doing and hopes it will help him get into journalism, and I can't knock him for that. I mean, if he was stripping or working at the gas station we stopped at in that last analogy, then I might be kinda mad, but as far as I can tell, he was not just saying he was headed to work at the radio station, and then secretly going to Banana Hammocks a' Plenty to make a quick hundo.
The trip does not have to be over though. I could, if I wanted to, go back to Santa Fe and work until he feels he is finished, but I kinda feel the novelty will be over by then. As far as I am aware, he is still going to New York, so if you are only reading this blog in hopes of coming across some fun road trip story, keep checking his blog out because he will be continuing the trip for sure.
I came home for a wedding, and what a wedding it was. Free wine always takes a wedding up a level or two, but it also helps to have a fun family and a good guest. My friend Brett was Katie's guest, my friend Stephanie was mine, and luckily Stephanie didn't mind dancing to Ricky Martin's "Living La Vida Loca" (we were the only two out there). All the best to Bill and Reem, the lovely couple, I hope you had a good time (and continue to) because I sure did. I got to see some family members I am used to seeing on a much more regular basis. Lucky for Brian and me, one of our cousins made a comment too good to not be made fun of, so we had that going for us all night as well.
Now I am in Seattle. I came up for a couple of days, anticipating to make a decision on where I was gonna go, and I think for the time being I am gonna stay up here. I love it up here. I think it would be wrong to stay for the sake of contentment, but as far as I am concerned, Seattle has a lot more to offer still. I worry of falling into a rut, but I'll worry about that anywhere I go, so in that sense, the location does not matter. It is what I do that matters, and I am not about to blame any situation I find myself in on where I am at. The journey does matter, don't get me wrong. But I won't limit a "journey" to being something where an object's physical position changes as a function of time. I am not saying here that I'll stay in Seattle for a long time either. But for now I, this is where I'll be. Talk to you soon though.
Love, Zach
Brett, I miss you. Good luck buddy
So, why am I here? Avoiding an existential crisis, I'll answer this question as it pertains only to my current location. As you, my friends and family (maybe a government agency?) know, I was on a road trip with my good buddy Brett- Brett won't always rub aloe on your back, but a good friend he is. We were headed around the country slow and steady like any two people mindful of the tortoise and the hare story, but we ran into a wall. The wall was a job. A job for Brett. Fret not. It was not like we stopped to get gas and I went to the bathroom and when I came back to get in the car, he had a job. We both knew we had different aspirations for the trip when we started it, so I have no bad blood. He found something he likes doing and hopes it will help him get into journalism, and I can't knock him for that. I mean, if he was stripping or working at the gas station we stopped at in that last analogy, then I might be kinda mad, but as far as I can tell, he was not just saying he was headed to work at the radio station, and then secretly going to Banana Hammocks a' Plenty to make a quick hundo.
The trip does not have to be over though. I could, if I wanted to, go back to Santa Fe and work until he feels he is finished, but I kinda feel the novelty will be over by then. As far as I am aware, he is still going to New York, so if you are only reading this blog in hopes of coming across some fun road trip story, keep checking his blog out because he will be continuing the trip for sure.
I came home for a wedding, and what a wedding it was. Free wine always takes a wedding up a level or two, but it also helps to have a fun family and a good guest. My friend Brett was Katie's guest, my friend Stephanie was mine, and luckily Stephanie didn't mind dancing to Ricky Martin's "Living La Vida Loca" (we were the only two out there). All the best to Bill and Reem, the lovely couple, I hope you had a good time (and continue to) because I sure did. I got to see some family members I am used to seeing on a much more regular basis. Lucky for Brian and me, one of our cousins made a comment too good to not be made fun of, so we had that going for us all night as well.
Now I am in Seattle. I came up for a couple of days, anticipating to make a decision on where I was gonna go, and I think for the time being I am gonna stay up here. I love it up here. I think it would be wrong to stay for the sake of contentment, but as far as I am concerned, Seattle has a lot more to offer still. I worry of falling into a rut, but I'll worry about that anywhere I go, so in that sense, the location does not matter. It is what I do that matters, and I am not about to blame any situation I find myself in on where I am at. The journey does matter, don't get me wrong. But I won't limit a "journey" to being something where an object's physical position changes as a function of time. I am not saying here that I'll stay in Seattle for a long time either. But for now I, this is where I'll be. Talk to you soon though.
Love, Zach
Brett, I miss you. Good luck buddy
Saturday, October 4, 2008
The END?
No. Well maybe.
A while back Brett and I decided to go on a road trip. The route roughly took on the shape of a giant 'U' that we etched into the United States and we set a soft deadline for early to middle November. Committing to the trip, we both understood that we had independent goals and reasons taking us from A to B and that maybe we wouldn't finish the trip we started (together or separate). Blazing our trail at a snail's pace, we are one time zone away from home and the understanding of there being two independent trips in this one trip has become somewhat of a relevant matter. Brett is on the hunt and trying to figure out what he wants to do, and this has lead him to an internship in Santa Fe. Does this spell the untimely end of the Zach and Brett adventure?!
Well, maybe. I think if he likes what he is doing and he sees it as an important step for him, he should stay and do what he has to do. And he knows that what he has to do is not what I have to do, and that staying in Santa Fe for a long period of time is no where in my itinerary. We planned on staying here for a little while anyways, so I figure I'll sit back, max and relax and as the time of original departure comes near, Brett is gonna have to let me know what he is gonna do so I can decide what I am gonna do. I want the trip to keep going as was planned, but at the same time I completely understand where he is coming from.
Who knows where I'll be in two weeks? Seattle? Maine(the light at the end of the tunnel)? San Francisco? Lost in the South? Time will tell I suppose, and also Brett's decision, and my consequent decision.
A while back Brett and I decided to go on a road trip. The route roughly took on the shape of a giant 'U' that we etched into the United States and we set a soft deadline for early to middle November. Committing to the trip, we both understood that we had independent goals and reasons taking us from A to B and that maybe we wouldn't finish the trip we started (together or separate). Blazing our trail at a snail's pace, we are one time zone away from home and the understanding of there being two independent trips in this one trip has become somewhat of a relevant matter. Brett is on the hunt and trying to figure out what he wants to do, and this has lead him to an internship in Santa Fe. Does this spell the untimely end of the Zach and Brett adventure?!
Well, maybe. I think if he likes what he is doing and he sees it as an important step for him, he should stay and do what he has to do. And he knows that what he has to do is not what I have to do, and that staying in Santa Fe for a long period of time is no where in my itinerary. We planned on staying here for a little while anyways, so I figure I'll sit back, max and relax and as the time of original departure comes near, Brett is gonna have to let me know what he is gonna do so I can decide what I am gonna do. I want the trip to keep going as was planned, but at the same time I completely understand where he is coming from.
Who knows where I'll be in two weeks? Seattle? Maine(the light at the end of the tunnel)? San Francisco? Lost in the South? Time will tell I suppose, and also Brett's decision, and my consequent decision.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Some kinda Grand
After leaving Joshua Tree, Brett and I headed northeast to hit up one of the first national parks and the grandest of canyons, the Grand Canyon. Much thanks to Teddy for being such a proponent of preserving this piece of work. And also much thanks to erosion and the Colorado River for cutting through that land with such a relentless and unbending tenacity the likes of which has yet to be seen in the other more weak-minded rivers like that Potomac River.
We intended to camp near the Canyon but ran into some kooks at our campsite... yadayadayada, we ended up sleeping in the car. But we showed them good, because this scare enabled us to get such an uncomfortable night sleep in the car that we awoke early enough to see the Grand Canyon as the sun came up. The visitor center was prepared for my ineptitude and let me know exactly where I could get the best view: "Everywhere. It's true." And boy golly were they right as rain. No one can be in more than one spot simultaneously, so I couldn't test their claim, but my view sure was a keeper.
We stayed for a good while and walked along the rim, taking in what we could. Who knows how much time should be spent taking in the Grand Canyon in order for it to be deemed sufficient? I don't. A minute? An hour? A day? Day and a half, tops? The Price is Right way of deciding (and I'm inclined to decide many a matter by applying such a strategy), would tell me that the right answer is an hour because I spent around two hours there and probably sucked all I could outta that thing. But who knows. Everyone is different, and so are the reasons that bring a person to stare into what some think is just a large crack in the ground. Maybe if my marriage was on the fritz, I was in a mid-life crisis, Sarah Palin became VP, or ice cream became extinct somehow, I might search for meaning in this mixed up world of ours by peering into a mile deep chasm. As it so happens, I've got my share of soul searching to do still, so I said bring on the spiritual enlightenment. The Grand Canyon is as good a soul searching spot as any out there, right? Right.
Jerry Seinfeld and George Costanza had a bench on a pier to go to when they had to do some real heavy thinking and I've got the Grand Canyon. I can't say exactly what I thought while I was there, nor say what I now think as a consequence, and I don't particularly want to try here. All I can say is this: if there had been a bystander at the Grand Canyon just watching me think like I watch Jerry do in said episodes of Seinfeld, then the outcome was nothing sort of down-right anti-climactic. Needed "Hello" (by Lionel Richie) to be playing in the background and a flock of seagulls to run through for the full effect I think. In all seriousness, epiphanies don't come easy, regardless of having the Grand Canyon to lean on. So, while it'd be nice to say I can answer all the questions that my pesky conscious brings up with a little Grand assistant, I can't do that. I can however direct you to people who might think they have answers. But then again... if you stick with me I'll keep using Seinfeld analogies. Plus, I don't want to be alone here, so just stick with me.
We left my thinking spot* and traveled straight east for the first time this trip. Brett and I are staying at his Aunt Alice's place. He got some kinda internship at a radio station, so currently we're playing the trip by ear. Aunt Alice is an amazing women, and while Brett brings home the bacon, I'll be attending to housework: painting, yard work, etc. I know what your thinking. Don't judge though. Sure, these days it might be looked down upon that a college graduate chooses to stay in the home- I could get a job if I wanted to, I just assume work at home. Brett's girlfriend and main squeeze is coming out to Santa Fe. This is good news for all because between you, me, and maybe some other person you know, four weeks is a long time to be hanging out with a skinny, sometimes allergy ridden poor kid - no matter how cool, awesome, and down right hilarious that person might be. And trust you me, he is hilarious.
Always,
congested Zach
* "thinking spot" not a technical term
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
A park in a Desert
It's been a while, and for all those worried that I threw my accident-prone self over a cliff or shared a shoe with a scorpion or poisonous spider of sorts, I apologize. Yep, I am still alive, and that's good too, because now I can tell you about Joshua Tree National Park (vital information to all that would have gone undigested had I gotten lost in the desert- trust me, there's no way you can get this from a brochure, book, t.v. show, film, song, verbal story, poem, bathroom stall wall, friend, family member, associate, stranger, history lesson, map, internet, journal, newspaper, blog, dream, doctor, historian, painting, etc).
To a non-expert of a given field of information such as myself, Joshua Tree looks like a desert, just a bunch of rocks stacked up one on top of the other with a few trees around that give a frustratingly inadequate amount of shade. But, to a kid who likes climbing things just to climb things such as myself, this place is a paradise. And it is not like when you're little and your mom says not to climb things because it is impolite or you'll get hurt- You can climb and get hurt all day long without anyone to tell you better! Word to the unwise: don't just climb to the top without thinking about how you are gonna get down. Getting up is easy, but getting down is harder if you are afraid of heights whenever you look down. I'll pretend I wouldn't know anything about that though.
The brutal landscape looks dead and completely unwelcoming at first, but what you (really me, but potentially 'you') learn is that it is actually extremely temperamental to small changes in weather and the collective interaction between the landscape and living things is really fragile. Joshua trees (not actually trees, but yuccas- I know, why call it a tree?) are scattered everywhere and are considered 'life-giving' trees because they provide lots of resources for other living organisms that rely on the trees. I was not sure why they got the name 'Joshua' in particular, but I looked it up and trusty wikipedia said that Mormon settlers gave it that name because the shape reminded them of some biblical mumbo jumbo where Joshua was reaching up towards the heavens. Not the reason why I would name a tree, but to each their respective own.
The piles of climbing rocks I was talking about look like a kid with an inability to put LEGOS together just haphazardly started placing incongruent ends together to compete with a better, slightly more skilled LEGO builder. LEGO building is fun, but that will have to wait for another blog. What actually happened was this: Volcanic activity deep below the Earth made these large pieces of monzogranite. Over time, these massive slabs were forced upward and as that happened, surface conditions (wind and rain) forced cracks in the previously singular chunks of monzogranite. The cracks widened and deepened, and presto, one piece becomes many pieces. if you look at them long enough or brief enough with a keener eye, you can see how one pile of rocky puzzle pieces actually makes up a single puzzle of puzzle-like rock pieces. And it is easier to see than those puzzles who's contents include about 500 blue pieces (of all the same shade) that all look the same because they make up the stupid sky.
Next we went to the Grand Canyon, and now we are in New Mexico, the Land of Enchantment. I'll talk about the Grand Canyon in my next blog, and the same goes for Enchanted Land. Goodbye for now.
To a non-expert of a given field of information such as myself, Joshua Tree looks like a desert, just a bunch of rocks stacked up one on top of the other with a few trees around that give a frustratingly inadequate amount of shade. But, to a kid who likes climbing things just to climb things such as myself, this place is a paradise. And it is not like when you're little and your mom says not to climb things because it is impolite or you'll get hurt- You can climb and get hurt all day long without anyone to tell you better! Word to the unwise: don't just climb to the top without thinking about how you are gonna get down. Getting up is easy, but getting down is harder if you are afraid of heights whenever you look down. I'll pretend I wouldn't know anything about that though.
The brutal landscape looks dead and completely unwelcoming at first, but what you (really me, but potentially 'you') learn is that it is actually extremely temperamental to small changes in weather and the collective interaction between the landscape and living things is really fragile. Joshua trees (not actually trees, but yuccas- I know, why call it a tree?) are scattered everywhere and are considered 'life-giving' trees because they provide lots of resources for other living organisms that rely on the trees. I was not sure why they got the name 'Joshua' in particular, but I looked it up and trusty wikipedia said that Mormon settlers gave it that name because the shape reminded them of some biblical mumbo jumbo where Joshua was reaching up towards the heavens. Not the reason why I would name a tree, but to each their respective own.
The piles of climbing rocks I was talking about look like a kid with an inability to put LEGOS together just haphazardly started placing incongruent ends together to compete with a better, slightly more skilled LEGO builder. LEGO building is fun, but that will have to wait for another blog. What actually happened was this: Volcanic activity deep below the Earth made these large pieces of monzogranite. Over time, these massive slabs were forced upward and as that happened, surface conditions (wind and rain) forced cracks in the previously singular chunks of monzogranite. The cracks widened and deepened, and presto, one piece becomes many pieces. if you look at them long enough or brief enough with a keener eye, you can see how one pile of rocky puzzle pieces actually makes up a single puzzle of puzzle-like rock pieces. And it is easier to see than those puzzles who's contents include about 500 blue pieces (of all the same shade) that all look the same because they make up the stupid sky.
Next we went to the Grand Canyon, and now we are in New Mexico, the Land of Enchantment. I'll talk about the Grand Canyon in my next blog, and the same goes for Enchanted Land. Goodbye for now.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
When We Left Earth
I just spent the better part of the morning watching the Discovery Channel six part series, When We Left Earth: The NASA Missions, and the story is awe-inspiring. I've seen my fair share of documentaries on the NASA missions and done my fair share of reading concerning the subject, but watching this series makes me feel like I am taking it all in for the first time. The stories from those who were there and apart of it all amplify the breathtaking imagery, and this series is just spectacular. Watch it. Do it. I mean it.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
ON THE BEACH
On the Beach is a post-apocalyptic novel that takes place on the beaches of Australia. Virtually everywhere else is unlivable because of a nuclear fallout, and the people of the book only have so long until the pollution reaches them. Lucky for Brett and I, this is only a book (for now?), because it would be a lot harder to enjoy the beaches of San Diego with thoughts of impending death weighing on us. So, here Brett and I are, also on the beach, but it couldn't be further from a gloomy time of "if-only I had done..." or "I can't believe your the last face I have to look at..."
We are posting up at Brett B's parents place, and again the hospitality is out of this world. Nancy keeps telling me to make myself at home and unbeknownst to her, I have already decided to stay through 2012. She offered us an extended stay, and since we have not turned down any such offer yet, why start now? It's a good thing I don't live in a place like this year round though, because I'd never get anything done and just check out- it's like living on a resort and it's always nice out. Yesterday I swam in a pool, played basketball, ate way too much food, and walked on the beach. Nothing in this routine remotely resembles a 'real' day. It's a dream world. They say that if wishes were horses beggars would ride, but here I am (as much of crumbum as is possible) and I am getting around just fine.
I like the sand down here too. It's especially soft and you can just sink in it a little when the water rushes back down the beach and out again. "Scouring" as it is called, happens in the water whenever something obstructs the path and causes the water to be redirected downward, eroding what is below and beside the obstruction (in this case my feet). For me it is no big thing, but for bridges it can disastrous. Thank you History Channel.
I am forgetting I had a work ethic. But don't worry about me. I'll be back and climbing some latter somewhere sometime. I won't be satisfied with just any gig. Like Conan said, "Until I am on Hollywood Squares, it won't feel like it's real." If you don't know me, Conan is a key fixture in my life. So are dry cheerios and constantly losing phone, keys, or wallet. Brett doesn't understand either of latter, and it's gonna be a continuing and ever widening gap on this trip. By the end, we probably won't be able to stand each other. I'll be constantly shoving dry cheerios in my mouth just to spite him, and he'll constantly be treating me like a two year old: "Zach, do you have your keys? Where is your phone? Why don't you JUST put them in the same spot always?" He reminds me of my mom, because she is always saying I'd lose my head if it weren't attached to my body. If it sounds like I am laying into Brett, I'm not. Just giving him (and mom) a little taste of some medicine- backtalk medicine.
I don't always talk about useless stuff. Stayed tuned- Maybe I'll talk about the state of the economy. But maybe I'll talk about my favorite episode of Family Matters, because there are enough people talking about the state of the economy, and they might be a little more informed (on the economy, NOT Family Matters).
My sister is doing Teach for America right now. Last time I talked to her I was super excited because we were in San Francisco and I was meeting some real cool people. She had strep throat because she teaches kids and kids are filthy and disgusting and carry around lots of germs and they just give um to everyone, especially teachers. I am not equating good grades, a hard work ethic, a desire to help people, and all that good stuff with strep throat... but, it doesn't not come off as a slippery slope, if you know what I mean. No, no, i only kid. It's fun to kid with Katie. Brian knows. Brian is my cousin and we pick fights with the whole family. We're like Niles and Fraiser picking on their dad for his taste in furniture (see ugly green chair appearing in every episode). For all those people/friends/family/etc, working hard and having a positive impact on society, I salute you, because without you...
I'd have no where to stay.
Sincerely, Lovingly, and always,
Zach
(Katie, don't you dare give up. That's just what those coldblooded kindergarten kids want you to do. Fight evil with evil too, maybe throw an elbow or two- stick thumb tacks on their chairs. Remember, you can always take a lesson from Arnold Schwarzenegger in Kindergarten Cop- check local listings)
We are posting up at Brett B's parents place, and again the hospitality is out of this world. Nancy keeps telling me to make myself at home and unbeknownst to her, I have already decided to stay through 2012. She offered us an extended stay, and since we have not turned down any such offer yet, why start now? It's a good thing I don't live in a place like this year round though, because I'd never get anything done and just check out- it's like living on a resort and it's always nice out. Yesterday I swam in a pool, played basketball, ate way too much food, and walked on the beach. Nothing in this routine remotely resembles a 'real' day. It's a dream world. They say that if wishes were horses beggars would ride, but here I am (as much of crumbum as is possible) and I am getting around just fine.
I like the sand down here too. It's especially soft and you can just sink in it a little when the water rushes back down the beach and out again. "Scouring" as it is called, happens in the water whenever something obstructs the path and causes the water to be redirected downward, eroding what is below and beside the obstruction (in this case my feet). For me it is no big thing, but for bridges it can disastrous. Thank you History Channel.
I am forgetting I had a work ethic. But don't worry about me. I'll be back and climbing some latter somewhere sometime. I won't be satisfied with just any gig. Like Conan said, "Until I am on Hollywood Squares, it won't feel like it's real." If you don't know me, Conan is a key fixture in my life. So are dry cheerios and constantly losing phone, keys, or wallet. Brett doesn't understand either of latter, and it's gonna be a continuing and ever widening gap on this trip. By the end, we probably won't be able to stand each other. I'll be constantly shoving dry cheerios in my mouth just to spite him, and he'll constantly be treating me like a two year old: "Zach, do you have your keys? Where is your phone? Why don't you JUST put them in the same spot always?" He reminds me of my mom, because she is always saying I'd lose my head if it weren't attached to my body. If it sounds like I am laying into Brett, I'm not. Just giving him (and mom) a little taste of some medicine- backtalk medicine.
I don't always talk about useless stuff. Stayed tuned- Maybe I'll talk about the state of the economy. But maybe I'll talk about my favorite episode of Family Matters, because there are enough people talking about the state of the economy, and they might be a little more informed (on the economy, NOT Family Matters).
My sister is doing Teach for America right now. Last time I talked to her I was super excited because we were in San Francisco and I was meeting some real cool people. She had strep throat because she teaches kids and kids are filthy and disgusting and carry around lots of germs and they just give um to everyone, especially teachers. I am not equating good grades, a hard work ethic, a desire to help people, and all that good stuff with strep throat... but, it doesn't not come off as a slippery slope, if you know what I mean. No, no, i only kid. It's fun to kid with Katie. Brian knows. Brian is my cousin and we pick fights with the whole family. We're like Niles and Fraiser picking on their dad for his taste in furniture (see ugly green chair appearing in every episode). For all those people/friends/family/etc, working hard and having a positive impact on society, I salute you, because without you...
I'd have no where to stay.
Sincerely, Lovingly, and always,
Zach
(Katie, don't you dare give up. That's just what those coldblooded kindergarten kids want you to do. Fight evil with evil too, maybe throw an elbow or two- stick thumb tacks on their chairs. Remember, you can always take a lesson from Arnold Schwarzenegger in Kindergarten Cop- check local listings)
Friday, September 19, 2008
I love Lilly
I love getting up early. I've always claimed I am a morning person, even if it takes a couple of snooze alarms to get me out of bed. Of course it has been quite easy to get up early now that nothing strenuous physically or mentally weighs on my eyelids from the night before. Particularly, I see the morning as an opportunity. Sort of a chance to change what I didn't like about the day before. Even though my mornings follow one after another in similar fashion, with a routine regularly playing out in which I take in a cup of coffee and the early sun, I can't help but feel like I am really getting at something, just waking up to slow down. A good way to start the day if I do say so myself. Plus, what's better than getting a "good morning" from a stranger? You don't get any "good mornings" after lunchtime, and let's be honest, "good afternoons" don't have the same zest or pizazz.
I've pretty much slowed down all across the day though, not just in the morning. That, or the day has slowed down around me, which is quite probable, considering that I've spent the last few days surfing. One day we got up early to go wine tasting. You know its gonna be a relaxing day when you are getting up early just to go taste different wines. The beach bum/surfer lifestyle has its kicks. It's quite therapeutic, just sitting on the board waiting for a wave to come. Bobbing up and down under the sun on a giant water bed. If I weren't terrified of accidentally floating out to sea, I'd of taken a nap right then and there. I can't imagine a daily activity being much healthier. I am just chock-full of vitamin D now, and if I know anything, I know I like being chock-full of vitamin D. It's a great workout too. Maybe my aunt would be forced to stop calling me 'toothpick', but I won't go overboard. I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea though- I am not a real surfer (yet...), unless you count getting up for about three seconds and then being swallowed by the tail end of the wave. A rag doll is a more accurate description of me out there.
Surfers say surfing is like a symbol for personal freedom. I personally don't know what that means, but I'll go along with. I know I don't have any freedom out there. I just hold on for dear life- the ocean has my number for sure. It throws me around like the wind blows the feather around in the beginning and end of Forrest Gump (Chrissy, I am gonna start using Forrest Gump analogies as much as I can- good idea?).
So, we've been living pretty damn comfortably down here. We'll be leaving for San Diego in two days, and I'll probably just stick to the usual. I read, nap, and pet Lilly (the cat that owns the place I am staying at) and call it a pretty successful day. I don't know who is going to fill the empty void in my life left by the absence of Lilly the cat once we part.
I miss doing voices and impersonations with coworkers- the John Wayne voice especially. I do them in my head sometimes but it all sounds stupid. Not like when I do them out loud at all.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p6kFXyF-lF8
I was just kidding earlier about not being good at surfing. That's me to the left- catching some gnarly waves, yeah?
I've pretty much slowed down all across the day though, not just in the morning. That, or the day has slowed down around me, which is quite probable, considering that I've spent the last few days surfing. One day we got up early to go wine tasting. You know its gonna be a relaxing day when you are getting up early just to go taste different wines. The beach bum/surfer lifestyle has its kicks. It's quite therapeutic, just sitting on the board waiting for a wave to come. Bobbing up and down under the sun on a giant water bed. If I weren't terrified of accidentally floating out to sea, I'd of taken a nap right then and there. I can't imagine a daily activity being much healthier. I am just chock-full of vitamin D now, and if I know anything, I know I like being chock-full of vitamin D. It's a great workout too. Maybe my aunt would be forced to stop calling me 'toothpick', but I won't go overboard. I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea though- I am not a real surfer (yet...), unless you count getting up for about three seconds and then being swallowed by the tail end of the wave. A rag doll is a more accurate description of me out there.
Surfers say surfing is like a symbol for personal freedom. I personally don't know what that means, but I'll go along with. I know I don't have any freedom out there. I just hold on for dear life- the ocean has my number for sure. It throws me around like the wind blows the feather around in the beginning and end of Forrest Gump (Chrissy, I am gonna start using Forrest Gump analogies as much as I can- good idea?).
So, we've been living pretty damn comfortably down here. We'll be leaving for San Diego in two days, and I'll probably just stick to the usual. I read, nap, and pet Lilly (the cat that owns the place I am staying at) and call it a pretty successful day. I don't know who is going to fill the empty void in my life left by the absence of Lilly the cat once we part.
I miss doing voices and impersonations with coworkers- the John Wayne voice especially. I do them in my head sometimes but it all sounds stupid. Not like when I do them out loud at all.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p6kFXyF-lF8
I was just kidding earlier about not being good at surfing. That's me to the left- catching some gnarly waves, yeah?Monday, September 15, 2008
Simi Valley, rattle snakes, and Sun
San Francisco came and went. A little too fast for me, but the road calls, and the wallet thins. It's not like I am against the clock; no bells tolling the hours, and I certainly don't have anywhere to be, but I guess it is important to see what might be out there to see. I'll just assume for the time being that I don't know everything yet, and I'll go out on a limb and say that the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe, and everything is not 42.
The California coast is spectacular. We camped right next to the beach, falling asleep to the sounds the ocean had to offer. I slept quite uncomfortably, but alas, so it goes when you begin sleeping on uneven dirt ground after four nights on a carpet that might as well have been clouds (spacious as the Sahara to boot- not too shabby). Brett and I woke up and traveled to Santa Barbara. Brett skated and I slept in the sand not five feet from the car. I wade in the ocean for a bit, but since no one was around to have a water fight with, I didn't stay long. Certainly I didn't want to splash some little kids just to get beat up by their dads (or moms)... (or the kids). We got to Simi Valley in time for dinner at Brett's Uncle and Aunt's place. A feast for fasters, the food hit the spot. What to do after loosening the belt a notch? Why not slip into the hot tube? Well, with a beer in hand we did just that. I went to sleep early, preparing for the hike into rattler town the next day...
Don't let those late day shadows deceive you and wash away the ridges and sharp terrain of the mountains in the background. Also don't allow the flatness of the two-D image to let you think there was no elevation change. That said, we didn't have a shot in hell to make it up the thing (laziness may have also been a factor...). The hills are also chalk full of rattle snakes. Well, at least one. Maybe. Well, we thought we heard one. Weighing the options and both deciding being killed by a rattle snake would be a pretty cool way to go, we pressed on. And then we pressed off... I wasn't about to suck poison out of Brett's leg, and God knows he'd have been home faster than it took me to hit the dirt had I been bit.
Tonight I got in the hot tube again and just stared at the stars. The city light washes away most of them, but some persevere.
Brett gave me some pointers today, and like Conan O'Brien says, "if life makes you lemons, make some kinda fruity juice." We could all do to take some pointers from Conan.
The California coast is spectacular. We camped right next to the beach, falling asleep to the sounds the ocean had to offer. I slept quite uncomfortably, but alas, so it goes when you begin sleeping on uneven dirt ground after four nights on a carpet that might as well have been clouds (spacious as the Sahara to boot- not too shabby). Brett and I woke up and traveled to Santa Barbara. Brett skated and I slept in the sand not five feet from the car. I wade in the ocean for a bit, but since no one was around to have a water fight with, I didn't stay long. Certainly I didn't want to splash some little kids just to get beat up by their dads (or moms)... (or the kids). We got to Simi Valley in time for dinner at Brett's Uncle and Aunt's place. A feast for fasters, the food hit the spot. What to do after loosening the belt a notch? Why not slip into the hot tube? Well, with a beer in hand we did just that. I went to sleep early, preparing for the hike into rattler town the next day...
Don't let those late day shadows deceive you and wash away the ridges and sharp terrain of the mountains in the background. Also don't allow the flatness of the two-D image to let you think there was no elevation change. That said, we didn't have a shot in hell to make it up the thing (laziness may have also been a factor...). The hills are also chalk full of rattle snakes. Well, at least one. Maybe. Well, we thought we heard one. Weighing the options and both deciding being killed by a rattle snake would be a pretty cool way to go, we pressed on. And then we pressed off... I wasn't about to suck poison out of Brett's leg, and God knows he'd have been home faster than it took me to hit the dirt had I been bit.
Tonight I got in the hot tube again and just stared at the stars. The city light washes away most of them, but some persevere.
Brett gave me some pointers today, and like Conan O'Brien says, "if life makes you lemons, make some kinda fruity juice." We could all do to take some pointers from Conan.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
"If you're going to San Francisco, be sure to wear some flowers in your hair"
The spirit of the flowers is alive and well says a scroll taking the form of a bathroom stall. I know bathroom walls say many things, but how can that not be true? It can't. Based on the content of the wall post, you'd bet I was in a bathroom in San Francisco, and you know what? You'd be right. Yep, good ol' San Franny... she's treating me real well I must say. We pulled up two days ago, and are staying with a real chill group of girls (one will make mac and cheese for you at 12:30 in the night and you don't even have to ask!- that's hospitality). The city is kinda hard to maneuver through. I can attest, as I got lost looking for a drinking well the other night. I just wanted to find a bar and was strolling through neighborhoods desperately looking for a neon light in the shape of a martini to guide me. Well I found one eventually, almost at my whits end, as disconsolate a mood as ever. But I got to talking with the bartender about what the city has to offer, and as luck would have it, I met Phillip. Well Phil and I introduced: "Hi, I am Zach." "Hey Zach, I am Phillip." - that sorta thing. Formalities aside, we proceeded to drink ourselves into a great time. Phil gave me his history, and I gave him my future best I could see it. I told Phil lots of cities look and feel the same to me at first. He said, "of course they do at first. Whatcha gotta do, and I'll letcha in on a little (Phil)osophy, is you gotta look for the soul of a place- and you know where that is? Its in all the people that make it up." Well, I thought ol' Philly was the coolest thing since sliced bread. I bought him a beer, he'd by me a beer, "and so we danced." He is the most knowledgeable former hippie I have ever had the pleasure of talking to at the Pig & Whistle.
The next day Brett and I scoured the town as far as we could walk just taking in the sights and sounds ol' San Franny has to offer. I'd say it was a jaunt, but Brett has already informed me that I shouldn't say we are jaunting anywhere, "not that there's anything wrong with that." He didn't quote Seinfeld there, but I can imagine he would. I think by the end of this trip I'll have said it enough that it will drift into his subconscious and he'll accidentally say we jaunted from a to b and I'll laugh and laugh. "Checkmate," I'll say. Well we both wanted to quench our thirst we'd worked up from all the walking so we stopped at the Bean Bag Cafe. It suspiciously lacked bean bags. One person bemused, "There are no bean bags here." I liked here for her attention to detail. We spent the remainder of the evening drinking in merriment with the new roomies.
This morning I woke up and went to get coffee with Audrey (one of the new roomies). We were having a good chat, but the old man next to us made the day. He interrupted to inform us that I look just like Gene Kelly. The same Gene Kelly that he coached and helped become the dancer he has become known as. Before we knew it, he was talking about Dean Martin, Condoleezza Rice, Romania, and a lot of other fantastic stuff. He said he was over a hundred years old! Needless to say, he was really spinning that yarn. Loved every minute of it.
I like how close the buildings are together down here. Primarily because I have this idea that everyone is real neighborly to each other and they all get to know each other real well because of the proximity, and it all works out real well. Plus who doesn't think of Full House when they look at these kinda buildings?
What ever happened to predictability?
The milkman, the paperboy, evening TV.
Everywhere you look , everywhere you go (there's a heart).
There's a heart
A hand to hold onto.
Everywhere you look , everywhere you go.
There's a face
Of somebody who needs you.
Eveywhere you look,
When you're lost out there and you're all alone,
A light is waiting to carry you home,
Everywhere you look.
Everywhere you look.
Lots of kooks here in San Fran. It is great.
Maybe the next blog will have something important to say, but it'll probably be more of the same rambling, so if you're ok with that, great. if not, try harder.
The next day Brett and I scoured the town as far as we could walk just taking in the sights and sounds ol' San Franny has to offer. I'd say it was a jaunt, but Brett has already informed me that I shouldn't say we are jaunting anywhere, "not that there's anything wrong with that." He didn't quote Seinfeld there, but I can imagine he would. I think by the end of this trip I'll have said it enough that it will drift into his subconscious and he'll accidentally say we jaunted from a to b and I'll laugh and laugh. "Checkmate," I'll say. Well we both wanted to quench our thirst we'd worked up from all the walking so we stopped at the Bean Bag Cafe. It suspiciously lacked bean bags. One person bemused, "There are no bean bags here." I liked here for her attention to detail. We spent the remainder of the evening drinking in merriment with the new roomies.
This morning I woke up and went to get coffee with Audrey (one of the new roomies). We were having a good chat, but the old man next to us made the day. He interrupted to inform us that I look just like Gene Kelly. The same Gene Kelly that he coached and helped become the dancer he has become known as. Before we knew it, he was talking about Dean Martin, Condoleezza Rice, Romania, and a lot of other fantastic stuff. He said he was over a hundred years old! Needless to say, he was really spinning that yarn. Loved every minute of it.
I like how close the buildings are together down here. Primarily because I have this idea that everyone is real neighborly to each other and they all get to know each other real well because of the proximity, and it all works out real well. Plus who doesn't think of Full House when they look at these kinda buildings?
What ever happened to predictability?
The milkman, the paperboy, evening TV.
Everywhere you look , everywhere you go (there's a heart).
There's a heart
A hand to hold onto.
Everywhere you look , everywhere you go.
There's a face
Of somebody who needs you.
Eveywhere you look,
When you're lost out there and you're all alone,
A light is waiting to carry you home,
Everywhere you look.
Everywhere you look.
Lots of kooks here in San Fran. It is great.
Maybe the next blog will have something important to say, but it'll probably be more of the same rambling, so if you're ok with that, great. if not, try harder.
Monday, September 8, 2008
Zach Stealing My Blog
Zach made his own blog. Pssshhhhhhh-real original Zach.
The original-www.byebyebrett.blogspot.com
Brett
The original-www.byebyebrett.blogspot.com
Brett
"hold on to 'ya butts"
Currently, Monday, September 8, 2008 I am sitting at a coffee shop in Humbolt county. I started this blog because until now I have been telling myself I will write and every time I give it a go, I quickly stop and tell myself I will start writing later, knowing full well I will not. Why do I want to write? Mostly to talk about my trip. What trip am I talking about? I am glad you asked. Well, my buddy and I are traveling the country. Filled mostly with romantic ideas from the likes of Kerouac and Steinbeck, I decided I really wanted to see the country and what better time to go then when your lease is up and you have no where to live? Also we're young, and there will be no realistic time for a trip like this when I am old and want nothing more than to just sit around and gripe about how the tv "nowadays" just doesn't compare to the tv of old. Brett and I left with a rough outline for the first couple of states two days ago. We hit up Crater Lake first. And what a lake she was. "Deep Blue Lake" as it was first called, was discovered by some '49er whose name escapes me now. Indian legend has it, that the lake bird was originally grey, but upon dipping its wings in the water it turned blue. The lake is the seventh deepest lake in the world, and is approx 1900 feet deep- some even speculate that it is 8,000 feet deep, but those people have been largely discredited. I won't name names. We spend the next night somewhere outside of Medford which is nothing to write home about. So I won't. Today was a good day- I must say, this is easy living. We woke up at our own leisure and headed to California, where the beer flows like wine and the women flock instinctively like the salmon of Capistrano. We had heard the Redwoods were the place to be, and needless to say, I was not disappointed. The trees were so big, "you'd expect a trex to pop out behind one at any moment." That's what a park ranger told us anyway. They were pretty big, and since I had nothing to compare them to, I took him at his word. I kept wondering how many redwood trees they had to cut down to make a road people could drive on to see redwood trees. You gotta spend money to make money though, and I am sure these redwoods really appreciate the attention. We are in or right outside of Eureka now, Brett is skating and I am at a coffee shop trading off between beers and coffee. Easy living indeed. At Crater lake I spent the time reading and sleeping, in the car I've spent time talking to Brett or listening to music, and in the Redwoods I just took in the view. Tomorrow we hit up San fran- anyone know any cool places we must go, just drop a line.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
