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.