8/2 -9/14/08: Santa Fe, NM

What an odd few weeks it has been. I spent the first two doing absolutely nothing, other than reacquainting myself with the internet again, writing, reading, and playing the part of the recluse.

Initially, it was actually nice to be back here. I had grandiose ideas of getting back to work and preparing to pack money away for the Latin American Adventure that is on the way... soon. I had some nagging points of friction in my mind however about trying to save thousands of dollars to do this. Money as it turned out was my major source of irritation this summer, and my primary failure was in the fact that I never really got to the point where I was learning to do with significantly less and how to generate fresh cash while out there; and there WERE opportunities to do that! I just... didn’t.

Chris and I had several lengthy conversations, and after initially thinking that he may decide against it, he has now committed to whatever this turns out to be. It turns out that, not surprisingly, we have come to the same money- page, how it relates to Mexico, then Central & South America. Less is more. Rather than talking in terms with three zeroes, it is now in the hundreds, as a means to force ourselves to be more creative, thrifty, and concentrate on eliminating excess... bullshit. Most people are probably horrified by the thought, but we both have seen the possibilities first- hand, and for me it is a matter of discipline and focus... like everything else. This trip is shaping up to begin, at least when the two of us meet up anyhow, in December or January. Much more on that at another time.

9/11 came and went again and as always, it is a point of scorn for me as we all watch the melodrama presented to us through the media, and wallow in self- pity. No one bothers to stop and reflect on how that event itself is a weapon; an instrument of terror itself. Just remember Rudi Giuliani and his every other word. What has happened since 9/11, in this country AND Iraq, is worse than the event itself. Only American self absorbed arrogance, a spoiled self-pity, and complacency prevents us from seeing the obvious. If you have not yet, check out the audio on the right hand side of the page. 9/11, and the economic events of the past few weeks, remind me of one of the best books I have read: Shock Doctrine by Naomi Klein. Find a copy; read it. You're living it.

The best radio show I ever did was on 9/11 in 2007. That show was the beginning of the end for me. The cheap bastards didn't even have a simple tape recorder for me to archive it, so like Hitler's in "Contact", my voice is simply left floating off toward Vega. I even took my own tape recorder in to let them hook it up. It sat in the same spot for 2 ½ months until I was fired! Ahhh... radio!

Chris rented a car and drove down here on 9/11. We sat up into the wee hours of the morning chatting, and we traded stuff; him bringing the things I had left there, and me returning the bivy, water filter, boca bag, etc. That stuff was a huge help! I also learned that, inspired by my return- spree, he had returned his old shoes to REI and had a brand new spiffy pair. I was immediately jealous!

We spent Friday running around, highlighted by a trip to the grand opening of the Santa Fe REI. Of course the radio station was there trying to be all ‘live n’ local’, so for shits and giggles, I led Chris into a den of awkwardness, for one of them anyhow. I had not seen this particular sales pig since they fired me, and though she would never admit it to my face, she despises me. I had annoyed her by telling her to take her live endorsements for Qwest, McDonald’s, whoever, and shove them…even though they were paid. She is the type who reassures herself with “you gotta serve somebody.” Whenever I heard her say that, I thought, “That would be a good mantra in prison.” I don’t see much of a difference in the grand scheme of things. I would rather be shanked. I guess I was.

I bounded right over to the table and there she was, strapping on the plastic smiling face with a full serving of the generic platitudes I had heard 100-times with her clients. My old PD was there too. I had not seen him since shortly after the owner fired me either. He gave me a big ol’ hug, and while he was, I was asking myself “If we’re such good friends, why were you so quiet when they were axing me…buddy?”

I do not trust people who claim to have hundreds of friends because, well… they don’t. We all have acquaintances, co- workers, and people we use for networking and furthering our interests. That is inescapable. Yet, friends are loyal, and do not sit idly by out of convenience or self-preservation, while you are thrown under a bus. The rest of them will, and that’s fine. However, don’t embarrass yourself by professing your love for me later on! They say that if you want to find out who your friends are, ask them to help you move. I like the redneck method better: go to battle and see who lines up behind you. THESE are your friends. The rest are just memories waiting to happen. Keep your relativism, hippie. I've heard it all before.

God, I love anything authentic!

Friday night, we watched a few movies and he returned to Denver Saturday morning. A quick trip to be sure. We managed to keep busy enough that we did not dwell on the upcoming trip too much, but it was never far beneath the surface.

The longer I was here, the more I began to realize that I miss traveling. I am no longer domesticated. I never have been, but it is worse. I have next to no interest in participating in anything in Santa Fe, and it took me two- weeks to call anyone I knew.

My personal writing has always been a refuge for me, but now that is no haven. I tried, with some success, to gain some clarity and perspective after I returned, but it was a disappointment. I had most of the conclusions before I came back! The writing has since turned into a simple annoyance because I seem to be writing the same things repeatedly; shit I have written a thousand times before. In the end? It's feeling like a bunch of self- absorbed bullshit, because now I have some experience to add perspective. One of my favorite quotes from Thoreau says something to the effect that it is quite vain to sit down and write when you have yet to stand up and live. Alot of writing going on this month. Living? Not so much.

I know this is temporary; everyone knows that. I only wish I were making better use of the time. The answer is not to ‘get a job’. I am quite certain that I would be fired, or walk out within a couple of days, and that does not bother me at all. The answer is to find cash- work with someone that doesn’t annoy me with all the “ladder- climbing” career- bullshit.

After 9/15, I would be more certain of that than ever.

8/2-8/4/08: Denver V-Manipulating the Universe

Saturday it felt nice to just chill out and do nothing. Chris and I finally managed to get to the grocery store for food in the afternoon, thankfully without incident! On the return, we crossed paths with a friendly homeless guy hanging out in an alley with his little dog. We both commented that he seemed like a decent guy and noted that he was one of the few who will chat with you without the conversation turning to what we could give him.

Chris worked, and I wrote, until 10:30 then it was off to Barracudas to relax and have a bit of fun. So much for not drinking. It was an enjoyable night highlighted by a conversation surrounding the definition of ‘art’, on which I won (!), but we agreed to disagree.

After the bar closed, we were outside chatting with some people we had met and gawking at what appeared to be a souped up hearse, driven by some characters from a Gothic novel. Quite interesting. As we were about to leave, we saw the homeless guy from earlier. Chris began chatting with him, and before I knew it, had offered him a place to stay for the night. 

That Friar...he had offered Catfish a place the week before as well; it is his way of returning the generosity he’d found on his cross country walk. I didn’t think anything of it. Sounded like a nice gesture and a good way to generate some good will in the universe. I also remembered the alley earlier in the day, when he was content to chat with us and not expect anything. I had a good feeling about the guy. Ron was 50, seemed to be pleasant, didn’t reek, and had an ornery little dog. A perfect combination for a house guest!

We headed back to the Friary with Ron and Bella (the dog) in tow, and broke out the remainder of the Jim Beam gallon Chris has had since May. We all drank up, chatting, while Chris and I were getting to know Ron. He was from Raton, NM so I felt a kinship to him in that regard and he seemed to have a Christian background; spoke of “Jesus” quite often. 

We asked him why he was living on the street, and he said it was because he was ‘tired of all the bullshit’. He did not seem to be an addict of any kind, but did like his Jim Beam.

I began to notice some things that seemed odd, however, when I began to press him on some of his opinions. He would not elaborate. Just rattle off the same answer again. I pictured Eric’s analogy of the punks selling speaker boxes with no guts inside! That was enough for me, and I essentially shut myself down, and let them chat until it was time to pass out. Then...

I had been giving Ron cigarettes since he had been there. No big deal, but then out of nowhere he decided to reach over, grab my pack of Pall Malls, and start to put them in his pocket. I asked him, “What the hell do you think you’re doing with my cigarettes?” He responded that these were HIS cigarettes, Goddammit! I took them out of his hands, forcibly, let him know that he was full of shit, and asked him what kind of idiot he took me for. Again… he couldn’t elaborate. Just to further explore what he was all about, I reached over and picked up the glass of Beam & Coke Chris had poured him. Christ on His Throne! “Hey, that’s fuckin’ MINE!” I had my answer.

Chris didn’t see any of this going on. I was going to let it go, to try to practice my new policy of forbearance. However, after I laid down, I realized that if this guy were going to try to steal my cigarettes with me SITTING there, what the hell’s he going to take while we’re asleep? My backpack and everything else I had brought with me was at the foot of the couch! I pulled Chris aside, told him what had happened, and he agreed that Ron had to go.

Chris, being the Divine Friar he is, gave Ron a shot at redemption. He asked him about the cigarettes and, of course, he said he did not try to take them. When I told him to look me in the eye and say that, of course he could not. It is about here that my blood began to boil. Ron had been lucid all night, standing and walking just fine, then suddenly he was too drunk to talk! As this little exchange continued, my voice steadily got louder and I was getting angrier by the second. The one thought I remember having is that THIS is the EXACT stereotype I was fighting on the road. I was assumed by many people to be THIS character! I heard echoes of Eric’s sentiments on the welfare state, how people will gain a sense of entitlement. Then I heard the hippies saying "Oh, they’re ALL just down on their luck and need a second (or thousandth) chance" with the upward inflection on ‘luck’ and ‘chance’ of course. The longer he sat there, the angrier I was getting.

Chris finally told him he had to leave. It was then that Ron, mysteriously, lost all use of his legs. When he tried to stand, he crashed into the makeshift bookshelf and onto the hardwood floor with a loud thud. Then, he couldn’t stand up from there! Chris gave him the benefit of the doubt, but to me this was too coincidental and convenient and began telling him so. I believe my response to this was “Oh, just get the fuck up, and get the fuck out of here.” 

Upward inflection on "fuck" and "here".

After some effort, Chris finally got him out the door, down the steps, and outside where Ron, again, mysteriously lost all motor functions. He crashed onto the sidewalk, and refused to move. His dog was not any too pleased about any of this, and I tried in vain to get her back on her leash so she wouldn’t run off in what was left of the night.

Ultimately, we decided that if we left him there at least we could keep an eye on him from the window. That solution lasted maybe 3-minutes before Chris chose to go back down and try to get him back to his couch. I declined to take part.

Chris was gone quite a while, and I began to get a bit concerned to the point of getting up to go looking for them. When I heard the door open, and just Chris walked in I was quite relieved. Apparently, Chris had gotten him to the couch when Ron’s motor functions just as mysteriously returned, and decided that THIS couch was not quite the proper place to be. He set off for a few different places, and Chris in his concern stayed with him until even he was fed up and had come home. Thus ended the Saga of Ron.

I had no idea how to digest this, but it occurred to me that many of the conservative leaning friends were correct. At what point does a person have responsibility for themselves? When does "‘I need a little help" turn into entitlement and a "get everything I can" mentality? How many of the ‘homeless’ people we see are simply looking to exist solely on handouts in an effort to avoid personal responsibility? Charity has its place, but so do common sense and the ability to see through a swindle.

Chris and I discussed this for a short time before we passed out with the sun already in the sky. The only conclusions were that we are probably a good counterbalance to each other, and that Chris was right when he asked Ron “How many people try to help you out after you try to steal from them?”

Sunday consisted of nothing but recovery. We talked a bit more about Ron and a few other things including more about South America. I touched base with Eric regarding work on Monday and that was it.

Monday was again mostly uneventful. We worked almost all day, then Chris and I walked to a video/CD store where he bought, then we watched, “What the Bleep Do We Know”. One of my favorite movies, and one that inevitably triggers deep discussions! However we both, and Eric too, had been noticing a type of mental fatigue. Chris and I spend most of our time in discussions, and Eric and I do the same thing, all day. It seemed that it was starting to wear all of us out! A good thing I guess.

Despite the fatigue, we talked about the movie, the Latin America trip, and began to do some research on what to expect once we got to Mexico. I also had arranged tickets for a Rockies/Nationals game at Coors Field for Eric and I. THAT would turn out to be quite eventful, and even more eye- opening than the weekend had been, and it would begin to illuminate the door out of Denver!

Ron was obviously the Event of the Weekend, but over the past couple of weeks, as you have probably noticed, Chris and I have been having more in-depth conversations about this winter’s trip south. I have neglected to detail much about this intentionally; I wanted to see how the ideas developed and whether we would have second thoughts. It is a much bigger decision for Chris because it means abandoning some of his plans and expectations in favor of the nomadic lifestyle again. Over the last 2+ weeks, it would appear, and he has stated, that this open ended adventure seems to have almost set itself in stone. It feels right; synchronized. 

The “Rest of the Americas” trip outline and philosophy deserves its own space.