"The world does not reward honesty and independence, it rewards obedience and service. It’s a world of concentrated power, and those who have power are not going to reward people who question that power."-Chomsky

"The trouble with self-delusion, either in a person or a society, is that reality doesn't care what anybody believes, or what story they put out. Reality doesn't "spin." Reality does not have a self-image problem. Reality does not yield its workings to self-esteem management." -J.H. Kunstler

"You don't need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows."-Dylan

Sunday, July 27, 2008

7/27/08: Denver V

The bus back to Denver was scheduled to leave at about noon and I spent the morning repacking the backpack trying to swap out some gear and eliminate what I didn’t need.

The nearly two weeks I had now been off the road had been oddly lacking in the previous obsession with routes and the destination planning. It occurred to me that I had eliminated all of the pressing destinations that I just “had to see”, and now was struggling to find another! The only places in this country I had yet to see were upper New England, and Montana/The Dakotas. It seemed like neither place was really calling me. I didn’t know what to make of this, but figured it would become apparent with time.

Getting on the bus was a bit more difficult this time after spending some nice, productive time at home. Laina and I seemed to have found a happy medium where we both now understood what to expect. I knew I was doing the right thing however; there is nothing for me to do in Santa Fe now but return to where I’d already been personally and resume counting the days until death!

The ride back here was again uneventful except for a minor, amusing experience involving another redneck. I’d chatted with this guy only minimally at a couple of smoke breaks, but by the time we reached Colorado Springs he apparently thought that we were both members of the unspoken White Brotherhood. He began rattling off race jokes thinking that he was endearing himself to me with his well-practiced humor. I found myself just staring at him, wanting to explain to him that 1955 was far behind, but thought it better just to say “I know a few people who would still like these jokes.” I saw the same vapor lock in his eyes that I had seen in Hippie McDouche. I rather pitied this guy because I knew this was a product of his culture and upbringing, and the fact that he was from the South. I had seen this “assumed racism” while growing up in small-town Michigan, and have numerous anecdotes about how accepted it still is from my time living in Florida. I tried avoiding him the rest of the way, giving only yes/no answers when he tried again to bond when we arrived in Denver.

I’d arranged for Eric to pick me up, and got back to the Friary at about 9:20. I quickly dropped off the stuff, and made tracks to his coffee shop to say hi before it closed and to see if he wanted to go out for some drinks. I felt a growing urge to blow off some steam, even though it made NO sense since I had t get up early. “Just a couple… I have to work tomorrow” I said.


I should have known better. “Just a couple” turned into closing the bar. We ran into an interesting old school hippie while there. I give the Nuevo Hippies much grief, and abhor the 60’s sellouts-turned-Capitalists, but for those who have held on to their ideals through the years, despite their systemic annihilation, I have a great respect. I am always curious to get their perspective. I kept asking Catfish, “What the hell happened to you guys?” He only would answer that he didn’t know because he was in Federal Prison! I liked him even more.

I staggered home at about 2:45 while Chris went off to buy a bike, managing somehow to set the clock for 7:30 before I fell asleep entirely too drunk.