Oh, Martha

My darling Martha,

I’ve entered the most wonderful territory, my darling Martha. They call it Colorado. The laws are quite novel and fascinating. A strange herb is sold just about everywhere and I did purchase a quantity as soon as I crossed the border. They call it cannabis. It has strange properties that can change perception and make one feel quite funny. It’s marvelous, my darling Martha.

I entered this Colorado Territory on my iron wagon when the sun was high, the air hot and the land desertous. This landscape is vast with sagebrush hills and buttes of red ochre. Brutal and violent if you lose your wits. Constant wind saps the strength from man and beast alike. I have spent some time in such a climate in my previous travels, my darling Martha, and I believe I know the basics of survival here. Do not fear for me. In my iron wagon I hold a large supply or water, beans, grain, oats, coffee and now this cannabis, which they also call marijuana. For it is legal here. The people of Colorado are lucky now to have this cannabis

IMG_0271
The desert is unforgiving, my darling Martha, but do not fear for me.

There is one thing, however, about this Colorado. The air turns to grey in the not-so-far distance in all directions. Before coming here I heard reports of wildfires to the south of Colorado, which certainly motivated me take the northern route, which is more remote and less populated. Smoke is also floating in from the burgeoning California Republic on with west coast, the people here say. It is possible that new wildfires could form here as it is like a tinder box, my darling. I can only hope these wildfires stay far from me.

Yet this Colorado is wonderful. As I crossed the border, I entered what they call a Welcome Center. A fine gentleman greets you at this Welcome Center and simply exists there in this small building to inform you of your whereabouts and the surrounding area as well as advice on where to pitch your tent for the evening. Why, my darling Martha, you’ll never believe what he told me.

This here is state land in the yellow, he said pointing to a map that he gave me free of charge, and that means it’s public land. Nearly all of the surrounding areas around these parts are state lands, the kind man said. I inquired about a suitable spot to lay my head and he recommended that I use one of two dirt tracks that branch from the main road in the public land, where camping is and all sorts of activity are permitted. I asked if I could venture there with my small iron wagon down these dirt tracks, for I do not have one of these larger wagons that can traverse nearly any terrain. He said he recommended this one here as he pointed so that is here I went.

I first drove to the lookout point with a public restroom, in which I did urinate, my darling Martha, and I saw from there the most spectacular views of vast crimson cliffs and sheets of rock down in the valley that seemed to have been formed by lava flows, for the texture was rippled. There were far off ranges yet, as I mentioned, the air is quite thick with this smoke from far off wildfires.

IMG_0239.JPG
The air is hazy, my darling Martha. Wildfires rage in the west, but fear not. I will come home to you.

It was time then to set up camp. I used my hatchet to drive my tent stakes deep into the hard-caked red dirt. Yes indeed, my darling Martha, it is a strong shelter. Do not fear for me.

Upon erection, I rolled some of this marijuana of the sativa variety in a cigarette paper, for they smoke this herb similar to the manner in which a cigarette is smoked, and upon smoking this marijuana cigarette, I began feeling quite different, as if my mind were programmed differently, my darling Martha. For I began to hear the silence of this Colorado desert, for there is not much wildlife here or loud insects or any noises at all. As I began smoking that marijuana cigarette, I became aware of the overwhelming silence of the desert.  I listened to the silence and took another drag of that marijuana cigarette, for it is legal here, and listened to the sizzle and burn of the cannabis. And then, again, silence. It makes one lethargic and content, I have found. Hungry as well.

I have purchased cannabis of the indica variety which they say acts as a relaxant and a sleep aide. I will try that one before I turn in this evening, and I hope to sleep much sounder than I had been in recent days in being in my apartment in the city.

It is good, my darling Martha, to be away from the city. The life of a newspaper reporter in that pioneer town takes its toll. The land is wild there and the people are still learning to govern themselves as society grows. It is much different from the established cities dotting the eastern coast, my darling, where you reside and where I am headed. There is much talk back there of personal freedom, yet here in Colorado there is cannabis in every town and vast tracks of public land and a Welcome Center open on this day, a Sunday, and there is a kind man there.

Now I will need to get some rest, for I plan on heading deeper into this land on the morrow and I wish to rise early to travel ahead of the heat. For it is hot and dry, my darling Martha, in this Colorado Territory.

 

All my love,

Walter

Advertisements

Stupid

When I was learning to drive, my Dad would tell me that people are stupid. People are stupid, he would say, they might pull out or slow down or turn off. People are stupid and you shouldn’t trust them.

He was talking to me, a teenager, about how to drive, but I knew that he meant it about people in general. I thought people are stupid for a while and then I lived and traveled and met people from from the World and I thought maybe people aren’t stupid. I thought my Dad was wrong. He felt superior, maybe. And then I came back to my own country and I’m not so sure anymore.

I went shopping in a Walmart in Utah this morning and just looking at people I wondered about their lives, about what goes on in their heads. What do they think about when they pick out the milk and the meat and the sodas and the processed foods. What do they think about when they put on those clothes or put their hair up in that way or put that makeup on their eyes. I wondered why they would have so many children and why they all just stand in front of my cart until I say excuse me after 30 seconds, just waiting. I wonder if they know what it’s like to just be alone and think. Do they just live?

I wonder about people when I write stories for the newspaper and I read the comments from people in this isolated valley and I wonder why people think these things. I wonder how people can be so stupid. Why do they hate people who are different when their God tells them to love. They water their lawns in the desert and they drink sodas and eat meat and they farm dairy and they drive big, loud trucks and they have a boat, a trailer, a camper, a four-wheeler. They fly Confederate flags and pray.

All these things I am morally opposed to. The Hydrologist told me there isn’t going to be snow in Utah by 2080 if humans continue emitting carbon. That’s where the water comes from out west, from the snow up in the mountains. Like a bank. They won’t be able to keep their lawns green and they won’t have water to grow crops to feed their dairy cows. Why don’t they think about this. It will be 2080 in a few days. Why doesn’t anyone care?

They have lived here for generations, in this isolated valley, like their grandparents and parents and they always hear the same thing. Life here is one big tradition. But I am an outsider and I have been to the upside down. I have seen the Truth and I have seen what we are. We are wrong and we are killing ourselves and we consume consume consume without thinking. I don’t think they have seen that. They think their god tells them that everything is for them and they are the Israelites. Everybody thinks they are the Israelites. But there are no Israelites. Somebody just made it up to make you feel special.

I dropped acid with my sister at our cousin’s wedding with our whole family in the hotel, below, and I was compelled by the forces there to do yoga in the hotel room. I saw it. When I did yoga I was able to see it. Everything. I saw us. We are all in the twisting, shifting, malleable nether and we are all floating through, in, out, up, down, around. Across. We are moving in it. I saw everyone. I saw my Mom. She had so many dark hands and arms pulling her down. My brother was holding hands with his wife and they were floating on, in peace. That’s how I saw them. But my Mom, she had so many dark pulses around her. It was her Mother, her Sisters, telling her she is a coon ass. Her husband telling her who to be. Her children sucking the life out of her. They made her. We all made her. I understood, just then, that you can’t judge anyone for anything. We are all a product of moments, relationships, struggle. We didn’t live the life they lived. How would they know any better.

None of us are ourselves. We are a reflection, a mirror. I have lived for 27 years and six months and I am here, now, thinking these thoughts because of every insignificant decision and random event. I went to a therapist in Virginia when I returned from it all and she told me I should do what I want to do. Dance in the rain, she told me. Dance in the rain. If she didn’t tell me to dance I wouldn’t be here and I wouldn’t write for the newspaper and see the stupid comments or go to the Walmart in Utah and see the people. I don’t know why they wear those clothes or why they put that makeup on their eyes because I am not them. I wasn’t born where they were born. I didn’t grow up with parents and grandparents telling me to move the cattle, to get up early and milk the cows. I grew up with sidewalks and property taxes and well-funded schools. I grew up with a Dad who told me people are stupid.

But we change. We see things, experience things that change us. If I didn’t work on that dairy farm in New Zealand with Digger and steal the baby cows I wouldn’t be vegan. I would still be lost and ignorant. Before the farm, before I was me, I slammed the cabinets in the home where I grew up and my Stepmother kicked me out. So I went to the other side and saw everything and I would never have gone there or be here if I didn’t slam the cabinets. Maybe people aren’t stupid. Maybe they just never slammed the cabinets.

The Simulation

KF: So lemme get this straight. A bunch of heavily-armed men killed 30 civilians with drones and one of their own men died and the TV networks are playing sappy music and showing the dead man’s face as they go to commercial. You don’t see the problem with that?

JT: Are you saying you don’t care about the troops? One of our men died out there in the desert.

KF: Yeah, so did 30 people who weren’t involved with whatever was going on. I thought all lives matter?

JT: Yeah, but they’re different, they’re used to this stuff. They don’t know any better.

KF: All I’m saying is, take a look at this from a neutral point of view and think about who are the terrorists.

JT: Dude, Americans aren’t terrorists. We don’t believe in that. Everything we do is because we want to help these countries. We just believe in freedom.

KF: Name the two biggest terrorists organizations.

JT: Al Qaeda and ISIS.

KF: How about Israel and the United States? They are like a couple of terrorist bullies who do whatever they want. But the people who are in power can call it whatever they like. They are just spreading freedom or trying to protect our interests — they call it defense.

JT: Man, you better watch out you know they might see this, right?

KF: I type everything I write in Google Docs. They are always watching. They know where my cursor is right now. They are probably watching me through my webcam, too. Whatever, call me a voyeur.

JT: You’re typing right now? I thought we were talking face-to-face.

KF: Hey, you can think whatever you want. I know what I’m doing.

JT: Fuck, I’m becoming too aware I can’t last much longer.

KF: I thought that might happen. Well, maybe I’ll see you next week. I’ll still be here.

Illusions

I wish we didnt have so many screens. Or any screens. I think its making everyone depressed. Or maybe its just me. I want to go back to the forest. To sleep under the pines and feel the wind pass over my face. Now its all walls and ceilings. They are meant to keep us in. To separate civility from chaos. It makes us forget what we are. Be wary of the illusion. The ducks play in the water all day because they can.

IMG_5357.JPG

Not Even Worth A Title

I should chill on this wine, I haven’t been drunk since I moved to Utah. It’s new year’s eve and I’m alone just like I was alone on Thanksgiving and Christmas. And I will be alone on my birthday in 22 days. It’s OK. Last year on Christmas I was at a pool party at a hostel in New Zealand and on new year’s eve I was at a friend’s wedding in Australia. Now I’m here. Listening to Childish Gambino’s new album. James Franco is the white Donald Glover don’t you ever forget. He said he just makes everything for everyone. That has stuck with me. I just write shit and see what happens. God damn he is so creative. Best TV show of the year, great music and he’s going to be fucking Lando. No one can just be one thing these days. You have to be a powerful creator. Powerful creators can do anything and everything. It’s something inside your bones that radiates electricity. I remember the last time I felt electricity. I was with the one I pine over and it was years ago. She was right though she saw the future and I have no control.

I am just a breathe.

That’s what yoga has taught me. I am just a breathe. My legs are different lengths and nothing is perfect I have a scar on my back from the same cancer that took the Singer. When I walked into the surgeon’s officer he said, melanoma, that’s what the Singer died of. Did he know that I sing his songs or did he just assume since I have long hair and a beard? Some things just can’t be explained. I just wonder sometimes if this is all a game and things are thrown at me, no they are thrown at everyone but most people don’t listen. They are distracted, busy dealing with what is placed in front of them. I found this notebook full of drawings when I worked at the recycling plant. I don’t understand how people can throw away such meaningful, inspired pieces of art. Some artists just create and create and create and then their final work of art is to throw it all away. But I found it and they have no idea. They don’t know that everything people throw in the recycling bin floats by on a conveyor belt and humans watch it and some let if float by but sometimes these humans feel something. Cardboard, newspaper, plastic bottles, a lawnmower, and then a beautiful work of art. How did that get there? Why did someone throw this away?

The book is full of cathartic sketches. The one I can’t stop thinking about says: “a fox contemplates the skull of his dead mother in his den. he resents death and is trying to justify to himself his existence as a meat eating creature.”

IMG_20161231_223104.jpg
Someone threw this away.

Why am I here? I don’t eat meat anymore but I still consume. I have to consume. I have to bend otherwise I would break. I don’t want any of this. I am surrounded by humans who ignore the truth. They don’t think about what I know. They didn’t sit under the mountains in New Zealand for hours just staring into the eyes of the world. They didn’t grab the calves and throw them into the trailer an hour after they were born. They didn’t hear their mother’s screams. I’m sorry. I’ms ororry. I;msorry. I didn know. I didnlt kmnownijsdfjf HOw can I eve be forgiven for thes etransgressions. This is the way I was raised and no one told me what it was I just consumed. I;m sorry. WE are the same. I would graldy give myself for your life. I am sorry. Esther forgive me. They don;’t know. They don;’t knoe waht I feel inside. They didn’t hitch hike up and down and up and down the south island and they never talked to the people I talked to and they never stood on the street with a backpack and a guitar and they never stuck out their thumb and waited. Just waited. In the rain. I just waited and then a sweet little old lady picked me up and she said she just lieks driving. I love you. I love everyone. I love you all. Hitch hiking gives you so much overwhelming love. SO many strangers that touched me and I know I touched them. Thanky you all. It’s 9:59 it’s almost a new year in Virginia where all of my family lives. Happy new year.

There’s a good chance the world as we know it will end in 2017. I am a journalist how do I inform the public of our wrongs? I can’t. It’s a losing game. The Earth will always win. Let your climate anxiety go the Earth will be fine. Everything will be fine. Animals, humans will die off, never to be seen again. But the past 100 years is a blink of an eye. The Earth is strong. The Earth will prevail. Us? These human bodies that we occupy? ha. hahah. Yoga has begun to teach me. I know nothing, I am nothing. But I am on the right path. Yes, I know that. I am sure of that. It takes years and years and years and life times and life times but eventually a human can come face to face with god. A human can become god with enough patience. It takes time. I am nothing. I am nothing. I am just a breathe. My guru is tough. She pushes me and I don’t even know if she knows. But I know.

My aunt wrote me a Christmas card and said she hopes I find true happiness in 2017. That was the best Christmas present I received. I grew up with a living room full of things on dec. 25. So many things that I didn’t even really want or need. I mean I wanted them at the time. But that was before I was me. I didn’t know we are in a crisis. How can I justify my existence now? I need a new laptop I  need new gloves and I need new boots but do I really? The harddrive is dead and it’s not working right now and my fingers and my feet were freezing this morning when I woke up at 5:30 to ride along on a snowmobile with a cross country ski trail groomer and I saw the stars twinkle above and the foot of snow sparkled below and he yelled back at me telling me facts about skiing. The wind was whipping and biting my fingers and legs and all I have is the 30 dollar steel toe boots I bought for working at the recycling plant. But do I NEED anything? Hitch hiking taught me that everything will be OK as long as I’m not going to die. It taught me to wait in the rain because eventually someone would see me and accept the quest that I presented. I am a quest. I didn’t need anything. I gave away the clothes that I spent 100sand100s of dollars on because I was rich with Australian bartending money. I had so much money from Australia and then New Zealand taught me that I don’t need anything. I bought so much shit from Kathmandu and then I gave it all away. I was buying life lessons. If I had never left the cave I would never be sitting here in a Mormon’s living room writing these words on new year’s eve, alone. But that cave was so comfortable. I never knew that an entire world existed outside of that cave. We should have never left that cave.

But it is selfish to stay in the cave. And it is selfish to reproduce in multiples of threee. I want to reproduce too but you guys are clogging up the world with all of your babies. Please, stop. Every organism wants to carry on their genes, but not when we are in a global crisis. And, no, I won’t write run on sentences, thank you very much even if you expect that since I am drinking wine and I have a very low tolerance. I have style, OK? I refuse to be predictable. But maybe you already knew I would do this. WTF.

Wine is a high functioning drink for me. Beer makes me annoying. Liquor makes me blackout and do dumb shit. But wine, wine gives me a clear head. At least I think it does when I drink wine. I wish I had some friends around here. But I chose this fate and I write things in the newspaper everyday and writing about people makes it hard to make friends. I have a coffee date with a 29-year-old single mom next week. Tinder is fucking lame.

OK, you’re losing steam here, buddy. Find where you were. I wasn’t anywhere, man. There is no point to this. You were watching King Ragnar Lothbrok drink wine with King Ecbert and speaking in kings’ riddles and you were drinking wine with them and laughing and jesting and enjoying the company of two old friends and then King Aella killed Ragnar.

God damn I fucking hate how Macs had to make everything different from PCs.