July 11

July 11

Needless to say, the sleep was poor. It also clouded that amazing energy I had attained the night before. I bathed some more and drank black Doomba Gastalwa tea, and was brought back to that energy and quite beyond it. I was almost falling apart. My pants button popped off, and I figured there was nothing to do but conceal it with the belt. My shirt was wrinkly, but I figured it would work out. I checked out and found a pretty enormous bill, though it was good relative to the town. I walked down to North House, where I was told I needed to call. I did so immediately, and was told Pigwonzadrep would be kept away from any contact for a week, though I might be able to mail something.

After a tiny bout of hopelessness and overwhelming fear, I straightened up and decided my new mission was TO GO SHOPPING! I needed to provide her with any sort of messages of hope I could scavenge from the shops downtown along with my own words. I knew Jasmine would add a new tone to what was almost surely an olfactorily bland environment. And the nose is the closest way to the soul. Keep burning, flameyheaded Pigwonzadrep! Fueled by oils of jasmine and clove! I went to a fragrance shop in the mall, but it had closed down. Palm Springs was not the kind of town where one could easily ignore the recession. Shops were closing left and right, and apartments were vacant everywhere. But lightness of nose would be had on this day! I walked towards Fantasy, the town's new-age shop, but was stopped by two things: first, a 300-piece puzzle strewn by the sidewalk. I was compelled to do the puzzle, but when I found most of the pictoral paper ripped off of the cardboard pieces, and a boring recurrence of a blue color dotted by white in most of the pieces. I just decided to pile it neatly for the next passerby, hopefully someone more patient and creative, who would simply fill in the blank pieces.

Second, a fragrance shop! They didn't have anything more complex than a simple jasmine perfume, and though my nose was unexcited by it, it was at least enchanting. What she probably needed was a neezley adventure of surprise and the beauty of the new. As the radial fanning I felt in my brain when I first heard the Soil and The Sun's "Like Diamonds," with its xylophone and recorder. But this is the desert, and everything is scarce. It's hard to get by out here (really I should have just pressed some leaves form the millions of sage bushes around and mixed them).

I still went to Fantasy, hoping for something visually uplifting, if not linguistically. I wished I could have afforded one of the $100+ Mandalas, because one would have definitely done the trick, but after sifting through the beautifully dreary, affordable posters, I found a bright and blaring one, and was overjoyed. The owner of the shop recommended I look in the back room at the gallery, which included some marvelous 3D paintings of silly space scenes, and I was delighted. I bought the poster, and made one last stop for a effervescent bath ball, hoping the North House had some sort of bath.

I walked out, carrying the poster like a scepter. Struck by my current uselessness, whose bright side is freedom, I decided to go up a much closer mountain to downtown to hike and frolick.

July 10

July 10

I clung my space blanket closed, but it was too cold to rest. I rolled around for a few hours, and finally slept when the pre-dawn warmth allowed me to. I walked the way I came, and as I took every path right coming here, I took every path left returning. This was dumb. But it allowed for a lot of accidental explorations of peaks. I saw massive hordes of people eventually, and walking in the opposite direction of them led me back. For whatever reason, getting a ride down the tram road was much easier. I think it was because no one was in their car when I asked. A shield against compassion? Who knows, maybe we should just call off the whole car thing, as a species. It's been kind of slightly almost fun at times, but mostly a drag and a literal pain in the ass.

I looked up where the North House was, and hung out at the park for a bit. This is where I met Dweezler and Gwynn. They were married, and Gwynn was bearing a child, due in probably less than a month. They were sitting with a man named Findler who was at 20% eyesight. I gave them some granola and sunflower seeds, and took a few sips of their powerade (Which was 99 cents per huge bottle the whole time I was there!). Dweezler talked about his ancestor dreams and lightening-fast learning in karate and ken-do, and Findler talked about his lost fortune, 2012, and a meteor coming in 2018. I guess at this point, he was close friends with doom. This is nothing new. Almost a day never passes when I see some helpless person talking about conspiracies and 2012. There was a time when paranoia was a funny, new sort of scholarship to me, but now it's being distributed and eaten as a bland paste. I miss the kind of doom that had a spice to it. I want Cthulu in Area 51 or Tiger Woods secretly trying to control the world. I mean think of it, you dull conspiracy theorists, by running for President, Obama has a big target painted on his forehead, with your name on it! That's the last place you should look. And whatever happened to aliens? What, is that to déclassé for you? You want to overthrow the New World Order without your neighbors on Pine Oak street thinking too lowly of you?

Instead of producing this awesome speech, I went down the direction of the North House and, overcome and stupefied by fatigue, decided to get a room at the Best Value Inn, because that sounded cheap. I figured out that the North House was 2 doors down, so I was in luck. I washed my reedey hair, and then drew a hot bath. My muscles were dying, and since the bath was there, I wanted to try out a theory I learned in Tom Robbins of extending longevity by taking several hot baths followed immediately by sitting in a cold area. Although "try" is a strange way to put it, because I would only see the results when I died/after a century. I think one way to exceed a century in lifespan is to not feel crushed, decayed, and crippled just thinking of the word. I need some time before I can master that.

As I drew into my bath, my heart was absolutely writhing. Tomorrow the truth would come. I was so frightened that so much of what I love in this world might be fading, and honestly, even scarier would be the possibility that I would be the only person willing or able to stop it. And knowing myself and the lack of times I've been in such a situation, my chances of failure would be great. But as I let the heat surround me, even though it calmed my mind, my heartbeat almost made waves in the tub. My muscles were so eased I moaned and giggled loudly. I guess a rented room in which no moaning or giggling happens is money terribly ill-spent.

By the end, I could have fallen to sleep forever. But remember the crucial next step was to sit in a cold area. I sat in front of the AC on max, and was thrown violently into the opposite state. I was reflecting sharply and clearly through everything that had been going on in the past few days, and sat down to write a bit. I probably bathed and sat by the AC once more, and went off to bed, feeling obligated. My mind would not rest. I couldn't let go of the urgency of the situation, and my reflections. I saw the inner core of the sun, separate little pieces melting into each other to become something entirely new and strange, and releasing a burst of energy in their wake. Like sexual organisms. I realized my ancestry back to the sun, and also the practical traditions that it has taught us time and again. As I held all ancestors in the center of my soul, allowing it to shine with brilliant light, I laughed as I only have once before (my last time in a hotel in California). The laughter of enlightenment is a disgusting, guttural number, with no regard for decorum. It is surprised, all-comfortable, all-exploring, and has an upward progression.

July 9

July 9

I think I had realized why I had avoided sleep in such a high-energy state the night before. Because I was still mostly in this state in the desert and dreamed that life was conducted through the text-based interface used in the game Liberal Crime Squad. Do not underestimate the terror of this situation. In the little bouts I'd wake up to roll over, I was still using that interface for conscious action. I would type the key for "attempt 4 more hours of sleep," and fall back asleep.

In the morning, I heard a man speaking at the edge of the desert. DONE FOR! I looked around and realized I couldn't be spotted in my prone position. What ensued was a crouching, rushed cleanup. I had managed to organize Chip's messenger bag once so that everything fit neatly, but this time I stretched the cloth of the zipper, because I packed it too thickly (Sorry Chip!). When I finally got up to speedwalk out of there, I saw the source of the earlier noise. A man in a stark pink shirt was on the phone, facing with his line of sight just missing me. I couldn't tell if he was just enjoying a view while on the phone or calling the cops and being cute, averting his gaze. I walked out of there, no problems.

I saw many people at their storefronts, cleaning and preparing for the day, and did not bother asking if they needed help. Beard self-consciousness was drowning my in shyness. I needed money somehow, but I ignored that for the moment. My gigantic walks should have been wearing me down, but the spirit juices of sunlight and purpose made my body feel indestructible.

A note on bathrooms: as far as Palm Springs, Rite Aid and Ralph's (A supermarket chain very clearly owned by Kroger. They even carry Kroger store brand stuff! I'm not sure why Ralph's is not just Kroger.) are very nice to homeless people just going in, taking a birdbath, and taking tap water to drink. CVS were dicks, having keypads on their doors, and demanding you buy something (That 49 cent gum pack is going to pole-vault your revenue!).

There was a spigot I washed my head and hair in, and then I put on fancy pants and a button-down. Google had showed me two buildings, and I tried one at random, hoping to just waltz in there. I did, actually, and a man who looked like a counselor just was going to let me mind my own business (fancy disguise?). I declared to him heroically, "I'm here to visit Pigwonzadrep!"

"Ohh, this is the men's house. The women's house is North, and visiting hours are Sunday. I concluded that it was time for a random adventure UP THE MOUNTAIN TRAM! Walking towards the tram, my right foot started being seared by the sidewalk through my scuffed sole. I snatched sandals and attached them firmly between my squishy toes. Feeling the sun's brilliant heat on the tops of my feet, I concluded that one side of my feet would burn, and I'd much rather the top did than the bottom.

My face had been burned by this point, but I don't hold it against the Sun. For what little destruction it has brought to me, there has been so much energy and learning I've had from it in the past couple of days (Avatar 313).

I traversed downtown, wafting heart-lightening smells from perfume shops, new age shops, and bath&body shops. I was surprised by how much longer it was to walk to the tram the second time around. Usually the confusion involved with going somewhere for the first time makes it seem immensely longer. Especially having walked 2 hours in sandals, I was ready to fall down and sleep right there at 7 PM. Instead, I poured some granola and sunflower seeds into my body, and rested, feeling my hot blood flowing through me, very near to my skin. I saw two men park by where I was eating, saw the road, which might be immense and winding, for all I knew, and approached the men. One was on the phone, so I asked the other through the window if they could spare a ride. He pointer to his ear and shook his head, indicating he couldn't hear, and pointed to the driver on the phone, gesturing that he, too, was in the conversation. I stood there, waiting for the conversation to end, and they drove away from the tram road, which is extraordinarily odd considering they were in the tram road welcome center parking lot, and were not coming from the mountaintop.

No other cars seemed to be in sight, so I started up the road on foot. As soon as the shadown was on the mountain, I put my shoes back on. There are many different ways to use your legs to move you uphill, and I tried many of them. I had plenty of opportunity. The road, indeed, started seeming quite long. I heard Toph telling me over and over again that I needed to face this rock head on. I was facing a lot of weakness, the great desire to sit down, and fear that this road would be almost endless. But for an hour or so, I was able to walk full stride with no breaks. At first, I just sat for water, food, and rest as a precaution. Half an hour later though, I could barely stay standing, and started breaking every 10 minutes. I had forgotten to fill my water pack at the bottom of the road. It ran out. Panicked, I started putting my thumb out, to many apathetic BMW drivers. I came upon another walker, who was also taking frequent breaks. I turned a bend as he was sitting down, and I began to feel truly awful and dehydrated. I sat on a rock, flopped forward on my knees, and let my thumb-raised arm protrude from my barely-living ball of self. Despite half an hour in this obviously miserable state, I never saw the man walk past me. I assumed as an old man with short hair, he was able to get a ride. I guess that's how it works. Two women were spunkily walking their dogs with nothing but a single water bottle at their sides, and I could not comprehend how they were accomplishing this. Immortals or something. They told me about a hot spring out by the top, and told me it's easy enough to sneak in, and walked with mysterious spunk onward.

My stride was maybe three inches long per step. All I could do was go forward. I would die if I didn't get to the tram soon. Then I heard something to my right. A noise which has probably been going on for centuries there, much to the delight of any trying to traverse these foothills. It was a sexy, sensuous, sinuous, pure, rushing, unadulterated, gushing stream! I jumped on it and dumped my water bladder in it. I then poured the water all over my face and into my mouth. There was nothing to stop me now. My stride was still only 10 inches long, but I was alive. Quite alive. I had 2 of the longest miles of my life to walk still, but I was alive.

There were taunting parking lots, making me believe the tram was near, but it was not so. Whenever I hit the gym, I tell myself "Run on this elliptical so long that you can't even walk afterwards." I never do, of course, but I was almost in that state now. After a couple of eternities, I reached the tram, which charges $20 a ride (the bastards! Well, I couldn't turn back now.) Despite the fact that I wanted to fall over in the tram instead of standing up, the incredibly sheer rock faces steadily becoming greener and describing in their shapes a host of mysteries unknowable to humans was a bit too much Halfway through the ride, I was so overtaken by their beauty that I silently wept in joy, while the tram operator talked about some restaurant and gift shop in the landing station.

I tried to sit on the balcony and enjoy the view and the raccoon crawling around, but I knew the documentary about the tram's construction would involve comfy movie seats, and couldn't resist, feeling like my legs were cut open. In fact, I passed out immediately on it. SLUMBERZLEST! When the park ranger came into the theater after the first tram descended, he was stricken by unbelievable terror. He thought I had died in his theater. Fortunately, I emerged from what was likely an immensely deep sleep, and was terrified to be rousted by a ranger. I was immediately relived at how amiable he was.

"I was like, aww Jeeze, don't tell me he's dead!"

It was odd to hear from an official that he desired that I live. I haven't ever experienced or imagined that before. He told me to go out and find a campground, but I knew I needed a permit, and was wildly confused, so I instead to hide in some wilderness. It was cold out. Cold! I had forgotten about that temperature. I headed vaguely in the direction of the campground, admiring the alien flowers, like a pink chickpea-looking thing, and the strange wood, these fallen trees whose insides were segmented like pizza. This is the strangest place I've ever been in my life. I found a gigantic fallen tree next to a giant stretch of brush, which provided an immense amount of hiding space.

Joshua Tree Park is largely Lower Montane Coniferous Forest. So what are those like? I haven't found any useful links on google, but I do know that they're freakin' weird.

By the time I nestled into a bunch of shrub in my space blanket, I had already lost too much heat. I figured since hot breath makes a bubble when you put a quilt over your head, the space blanket would produce a similar effect. Not so. And I didn't want to make a fire. Too obvious, and plus, I couldn't make a good clearing for one. I'd find out later that it's illegal to make any sort of fire in the Coachella valley area because it's so dry. One stray spark could make its unrelenting message heard and believed all across the land. So fire is much more destruction than energy and life in this case.

July 8

Mr. Overshankey Nuzz, why are you being so insane?

My heart's generating energy like a fusion reactor! It's making that much heat, too!

Do you need to go to the hospital?

I'm just gonna make some more plans.

And then he fell asleep. Please?

I know what I'll say to Pigwonzadreppy: "You don't need to go through with this. Your family has true love for you inside, and it won't come outside until they make an effort to learn to do so themselves. Let's call them, there's no need for you to sacrifice your soul. I'll take you on a sobriety retreat myself. I hear there's a mountain." Nono, I don't want to worry her, I'll say: "I know your inner fire. It will shine brightly against everything. Feed it daily! In the darkest times, Hope is something we give ourselves."

Really? You're going to quote Katara from Avatar: The Last Airbender?

What other Avatar is there than the last Airbender? Anyway, I'll have you know that show is very meaningful to me. In fact, this sleepless heartbeating is actually giving me an idea about what Aang and Zuko felt when they learned firebending from the sun warriors. Which is awesome, because that episode was really unclear about what was going on.

So now you know firebending? Good, now you don't need a sleeping bag.

No, it feels like things are coming together in my heart. Like hydrogen at the core of the Sun. And completely different weird things and energy are coming out of it. My friendship with my brother that was lost. My feelings of self-anger whenever he was beaten up, because I couldn't do anything about it. My inner self that I focused on after I thought God spoke to me one night. The self that I lost trace of when I hurt innocent people by shooting my mouth off about them, regardless of the love I felt. I think I'm finding it. I'm not sitting down for anything that might be harming Pigwonzadrep. I'm feeling emotions. It hasn't happened in a while. I'm becoming me again.

I'm reluctant to become you again. This narrative style no longer serves the blog.

I decided to take a hot shower to ease my heart. I finally did get to sleep after a half hour rolling around restlessly, giving me three hours of barely relaxing sleep. My mind state when I got up, was, however, much quieter, and my heart had stopped writhing around in nervousness. My dad, who was as willing to drop everything for anyone as I was, switched his work shift around to drive me to LaGuardia. He slipped some much-needed cash to me, without me asking. But refusal would be ludicrous. I was mostly silent, playing through more and more schemes, twisting my heart from greatest fears to greatest joys and loves. The music on the radio were very standard, popular songs on an oldies station. As a teenager, I wouldn't have noticed them. I was in a sense that if most brains in the country were processing that information, I should go for much rarer things. But right now, I was looking for something to center my mind, which practically felt like it was burning right now, no doubt a searing mixture of adrenaline, worry, tensness, and my constantly racing pulse.

There are some who think the mind is excellent about acting according to past, present, and future simultaneously. The music my brain would soak up on that car ride would serve me later ("In My Life").

The plane ride was more of this, minus the music, plus a dose of feeling at once shy and curious about fellow passengers, silenced by the creepiness I perceive in myself as a bearded stranger. I managed to get much more sleep, and felt almost human by the time it was over. But I felt like an alien when I stepped out of the airport. It was twilight, and the breeze was perfect. The temperature was amnoitic. Speaking of which, I did feel a bit buoyant. Everything about the air was different.

It was on those wings I sailed misguidedly about town. I was looking for Joshua Tree park, which I learned soon enough was acessible only by a multi-thousand foot tram 10am-9pm. Whoops. Fortunately, in my ever-northerly path, I ran into a huge stretch of unmarked desert. Or semi-desert? I think so, because there are bushes all over the damn place. Businessmen like the word "desert" more than "semidesert" for obvious reasons, and poor people agree with them, as "semi-desert" understates their trials dealing with 120 degree heat and wintertime feet-tall floods. I planned on being careful, and walking out of earshot from the road, but I let my fatigue sit me down less than a quarter mile away. There was no prep, just plopping my space bag down on the clear patch of sound and snuggling on over its soft surface. And I was far out enough to get a healthy eyefull of stars.

July 7

What does a bull do racing across space in a cold, metal pod? Can his mind endure? Say this were to happen for years. His final and long-awaited landing would be blissful, but also confusing as all hell. It would come as a surprise to the bull that his previous years of charging, fighting, and protecting in the fields had not, in fact, been a dream.

I use this shitty allegory to bring you closer to a heart that has longed yearned for action, held back by a head of bad habits, and the deadly allure of crumbled feta and tomatoes between slices of eight grain bread, with curry powder and hot sauce.

July 7

When Pigwonzadrep called, informing me of her being launched to California to rehab, it only took me a couple hours of mentally swaying this way and that, reading an opaque description of the place on the website, to decide that good institution or not, it was ADVENTURE TIME!!

[Adventure time

Cmon grab yer frands

Go to very

din

Distant lands

Jake the Dog and Finn the Human;

Fun, that never ends

Adventure TIME!]

And adventure I would! I bought the plane ticket almost immediately and argued with my mother that night. She was won over by the universities the counselors went to, because they weren't southern (There's more descrimination than that to come, my friends!!), and I countered by how pandering to paranoid parents the marijuana article was. It was settled because there was no real amount of information to sway us one way or the other, and old Pigwonzadrep would be overjoyed to see me anyway. With that, I packed my things, mapped out some places a hobo like me would enjoy in Las Swoozlers, California, and fell asleep.

And fell asleep.

God dammit Eftenbad! Go to sleep! What's wrong with you!?

This could be so terrible I mean what if her family is offended and they want to kick my ass what if I worry more by showing up what if my beard prevents me from entry? Should I cut the beard? How will I hear from her what if the damage is done before I can get there!? What if I have to pick the locks, making a daring jailbreak! Uuuuuuhuhuhuhu!