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.