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.

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.

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)

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?

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.

"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.

Zach Stealing My Blog

Zach made his own blog. Pssshhhhhhh-real original Zach.

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.