"June 1st: looking forward to your immenent return"
"Good sir, you are waiting for Godot."
"?"
"Koyaanis quatsi;
Staerke;
dochas..."
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Hey man
How goes it?
Thanks for your lovely text messages. And for your concern. Much appreciated.
So, yeah, doesn't look like I'll be returning to the Ithaca area until either A) Grassroots or B) Aug 21st as a hiking/camping IC orientation leader. That should be fun. I participated in that program as a newbie last year, and it was awesome. It was in Harot forest, and there was much glee as drums pounded, naked rainbow hippies frolicked, labyrinths were constructed, stars were tasted, grass was sniffed, and water was lapped against flesh.
"Dont roll over so easy"?!? Wtf, mate.
Dude, I'm not one for being a sycophantic automatic door mat. But the circumstances that arose...well, point-blank, they suck. It's been mentally arduous, physically strenuous, and all in all not good. I have done-and am doing-everything I can to alleviate and remedy the situations. However, I have decided that I can't just hop on a Shortline bus and sputter away from my problems, as much as I want to, as much as I am truly SICK of it all. I have responsibilities, that have either been instilled/brainwashed in me or that I have forced upon myself (haven't figured out which one, and once a conclusion is drawn, many other question marks will be transformed into exclamation points). Escaping to Ithaca would be a temporary solution, but would have cataclysmic repercussions on innocent parties. The law of unintended consequences. We all live downstream. Ignorance isn't bliss when you have glimpsed the truth. I would be placing a period where there should be a comma.
Or at least that's what I have been telling myself.
No doubt about it, it would be stupendous to be able to see you, feel you, smell you, discuss with you in the flesh, in the same space/time punctuation. To not have to rely on undulating transparent nihil-massiton inorganic(?) intergalactic obtuse acute tasteless tactless WAVES to communicate with ya'll up there. Carpal tunnel andslashor brain tumors, pick your poison.
Alas, the ideal will have to transgress to a different reality, one located in that black box between your ears. Next summer will manifest the spectacular.
Speaking of the surreal, Ecuador was orgasmic. Quite. It lasted two weeks...didn't end up traveling afterwards, which, upon reflection, is good thing, considering I don't know any Spanish (had to resort to bodily contortions, massive arm thrusts, squats, a sort of jungle boogie dance/limbo to mime simple sentences). Instead, my concerned professor made a deal with me, that I wouldn't go this summer on my hans-solo adventure, and instead, I can return some other summer as his assistant, paid, and THEN travel afterwards. Imagine: looong hikes, toucans, hummingbirds, pumas, bastardly Incans, overgrown Yumba Indian trails, lunar baths, primary forests, ancient trees dripping with moss, pick up soccer games, 3 gringos versus 22 3-9 year olds, intense hardcore volleyball played with soccer balls, orchids, stray dogs, conversation with cattle in cow-ish, waterfalls, hammocks, fluteish instrument, mandolin/mini-guitarish thing, poncho, local youngsters enamored with cameras, wheelbarrows, beware of falling livestock, trout farms, people absent-mindedly waving hello while their machetes slice the air, riding on top of pickup trucks, visiting a mountaintop village where the average age of death is 125, entering broken towns only to find out that they exhibit more life then the supposedly civilized village you grew up in, harmony of old and new, breathtaking scenery, catching our breath after running for our lives from fireworks spouting from "the vaca loca"- some wooden contraption that launches wild fireworks INTO the crowds during a celebration in Nanegal on the last night...
So I romanticize the events in nostalgic placation. But not by much.
The local photo store recently alerted me that my photos had been developed. Delay the opening of them, stifle the hyper impulse to tear open the white envelopes right then and there in the store, creating a blizzard of paper-stock confetti as I scramble to visually relive the previous two week. Anticipation of the reward is the feeling we crave most when offered something- it isn't the end itself, according to neurologists, but the journey. Back home, plop myself down on the wood porch. As my finger hastily slices the glue, my toes curl around the grass, the action of them wrenching the green out of the drugged soil simultaneously mimicked in the whipping out of the photos, the freeing of them from their ivory bar-coded coffin. And guess what images appeared on their glossy surface? Not the blurry, grainy, overall crap that is supposed to serve as memories of my Ecuador excursion (manual cameras are a blessing and a curse- damn too-slow-shutter-speed consequence of craving anti-technological progression authenticity!) But instead! Behold! The colorful two-dimensional sequestration of Walpurgistag! Roodmas! Beltane!......May Day! I'm glad the pictures turned out, and some actually captured the raw electricity, the people and day exploding with life, fertile land and fertile minds awaiting cultivation. Although some people might claim that a camera alienates the user, either as a protective womb or as denying the person the ability to Be Here Now, their argument is irrelevant in this particular case. I experienced a sort of freedom, pure ecstasy, absolute joy, rustic, unfounded bliss there, at this grand celebration of the earth. I've had fleeting encounters with this intangible Wonderbread before, but it's been only a few times, and with a only one or two people, alone or with a small gaggle of beings. an iota in the cosmos. But recently, from the drumming circle, to the set-up, to the actual Mayday fiesta- there was a significant amount of people there. and it was...wow. just wow.
I hope the summer finds you at ease, and in prosperity of any kind, in happiness, as well as in fortitude. Hopefully we'll partake in romps and rendezvous soon enough. But if that's not going to be possible, then good luck in all your endeavors. Anytime I'm craving a [_Notsogenericwhitemale__]-ism, I'll just whip out A Walk Through America by Peter Jenkins, turn to the page book-marked with 5 cocaine leaves smuggled innocently out of Ecuador (apparently they make really good tea) and read the passage that reminds me of you. Heh, still gotta dig up the book though- it's hidden somewhere in the cavernous recesses of the mountain range of hastily dumped crap geographically located in my room. By no fault of my own. Ha! Get it? Fault? Mountain range? Oh boy am I witty...and delirious. In actuality, I transformed the topography of my floor into that of the Andes on my own accord. Sorry for that terrible linguistic pun. Actually, no, I'm not sorry. Pog mo thon, I at least chuckled. Those who laugh at themselves will never cease to be amused.
But anywho
Amani.
Tschuss,
*
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Needed a release, so where better (shut up) than posting this for the woooorld to read!
So, oh emo kid, you have a sympathizer :coughyoupatheticfoolgetonwithitandkillyo urselfalreadyyouworthlesspieceofsingsong twindextearstainedheapofscheissecough:
Showering the online community with a rain of more mindless dribble.
Now get on with your lives. Go forth and continue your rape and pillage. Huzzah for unauthenticity! For snigglets! For YOUR MOM (ooooooo)
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WHAT THE EXPLETIVE AM I DOING?!?!?!?!??!!??!?!?!?!?!
-gyrating? moving forward but standing still? debating between finding and creating?
-inconsequential
-bingo
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the more i meet people, the less i hate "people". why does that anger me?
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nihil est in intellectu quod non prius fuerit in sensu?
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What would it be like if everyone wore tweed?
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I dreamed involving me having the opportunity to fly a helicopter. Upon reflection, I believe it has nothing to do with my sub-conscious yammering for "escape" or "transcience", but rather the fact that I fell asleep listening to Echos, and must have drifted off after Emily, right at the beginning of the third song where you can hear the chopper paddling the atmos and the German linguistic slobbering.
.........................night's getting more real......................
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The End.
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Oh, and...."FNAH!"~Kc
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okako XXVI. VI. MMVI
