Saturday, January 4, 2014

Just Some Stuff

Hanging for the night in Benson, AZ.   My old friend, El Gato Loco, drove up from Sierra Vista for conversation and supper.  I must have been hungry.  For once in my life I may have beat the house on an all you can eat buffet.

My educational trip is nearly at a close.  I was in a hurry to get home, but now I'd like to turn around and do it all again.  Efforts to improve diction and grammar have paid off; so far, no more "check english" lights have illuminated.
in this part of New Mexico, they cultivate groves of dead trees.  They produce more dead fruit than any other place in the country.  It is what drives the economy in boom towns such as Deming

It really does appear to me that Texas by and large contains the highest percentage of civilized and pleasant people of any state between California and Florida, inclusive.  Sure, the Mexicans in Dallas shoot guns in the air, disregarding gravitational consequences, but most of them will at least return a greeting.  Culturally, Texans have some advantages over the rest of us.  Doesn't mean they aren't crazy too.  All cultures and populations appear to be somewhat psychotic.

And they generally drive better in Texas.  That is hard to deny if you drive from state to state, and the path carries you through Texas. Unless, of course, you are one of those who has no clue what lanes ae for, compulsively speed up when being passed, and/or compulsively slow down and pace a car or truck you are supposed to be passing.  You know who you are.

That being said, if you must top for the night, avoid Pecos.  Lodging costs a fortune and the place smells like oil.  It is not pleasant.

What I learned on this journey: I can avoiding reacting when being cut to the quick as only family can do, I can still feel things I haven't felt that give me a glimmer of hope.  That will likely lea to disappointment and rejection, but at least I know.  Babies can keep people entertained for hours without trying.  The government may be piking the water in Louisiana with LSD or other psychedelic additives.

The neighborhood of my youth has turned into a tropical paradise.  It looks the way naive activists picture a rain forest.  Quite impressive.  S.Florida is one rude place, but the Keys are still petty good and must never be lumped in with Broward and Dade county culture.

I still prefer Miami to Ft. Lauderdale.  The Quality Inn in Live Oak is a good place with the nicest desk lady in Florida.   Friends along the way are more tolerant of me than I would be.  Southern hospitality is alive and thriving.  I guess I mostly experienced it with a Texas influence, even outside that state.

In general, I was troubled or confused or stunned or surprised, yet was treated as if I had value, especially en route to and from the target destination.  There, I was treated as well as could be hoped, considering I've lived a useless, unproductive life.  Even there, certain infidels appeared unaware of my glaring deficiencies.

Already I have work lined up for Monday.  Money would be good.  I have stories to write.  Already I wonder if my pursuit of Trouble Lady is hopeless.  I'm most likely too pedestrian.  Lack of fortune, title, acceptable degree, etc. has been an embarrassment to a couple of flame in the past.  I'll not tolerate that again.  One can sense these things.  I'd have scored the degrees while they were in reach and money available for it had I known.   Who knew it would queer the deal on woo.   To be snobbed, when once I was the snob.  It is just wrong.  But, you snooze, you lose.

It may not happen, the thing of not fitting the status required, but I suspect it will.  Only this time, I do not care in the same way.  And I am more prepared should a suitable candidate actually want the fabled "nice guy" who would be dedicated, true and a hopeless sap.

One fact of life is that, as much as you hear females bemoan the alleged scarcity of nice guys, I have observed very few who actually want one.  Rare is the woman who could spot a nice guy, even if he bit her in the butt.  What can you do...

I need a kayak, particularly a hobie with mirage drive.  It is the perfect thing for the legs without screwing up knees and feet.  It is a healthy item, but too costly.  One day, we'll figure it out.

It must be the approaching the end of the trip blues.  When I get home, I'll start working on guitar, and continue streamlining and organizing my life's junk.  I may not see the group I drove down to see for quite some time, if ever.  If I manage to make significant money, I may visit, but not stay with them.  I guess I'm enthused and shattered at the same time.  It happens.

So, maybe it is time to do it on my terms and quit letting myself be defined by those whose definitions are no fun.

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Ballistic Mountain, CA, United States
Like spring on a summer's day


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