Given the frequency of the posts after my return, one may think I'd have been kidnapped en route. I reckon the problem is I've been meaning to say so many things that they all just filled something of a blockage. Now, I'm not entirely sure if I should go for the big picture, or the meaningless little things. The latter is infinitely easier to write about, and requires no invested thought, yet the only pleasure comes from the former, naturally. Well, let's dispose of the garbage first, and then move on to the vague thoughts that trick me into feeling, well, thoughtful.
Deadwood's amazing. Seriously, you need to watch this show. It's a western the way westerns should be. That is, crude, raw, and filled with whores. If you like... well, I'm not entirely sure what to compare it to, seeing as it's never really had any other show to come close to it as far as style goes. I'll just say that if you like damn good television, you'll like it. Oh, and it's probably best if you aren't really bothered by the phrase "fuckin' cocksucker," but even if you are, you'll get over it right fast.
Next bit of trash (although I deeply regret calling it that) is that I'm flat out addicted to Queen. Seriously, it's bad. Really bad. I... I can't listen to anything else, because nothing even comes close to Freddie's vocals and the unbelievably epic style of Queen. All I can do now is sit and wait for it to phase out like every other thing that takes my fancy, but part of me hopes to God it never does.
Last bit of trash here. I appear to have taken ill. A cold in July. How's that for bizarre. Anyways, I feel rather like crap, and no thanks to all the social calls. Two days, two days since we got back (including the day we arrived). That's how many days I've had to myself. I reckon that ain't helping much.
Alright, now all that being said, I can move on to the fun bits. And naturally, they all escape me at the moment... ah, fuck it, not again.
I suppose one may be curious as to the outcome of the trip. It doesn't feel right to be home. A day for both Canyonlands and Arches? What a load of crap that is. During this trip I saw sequoias, waterfalls, plains, deserts and valleys. I've seen sunsets on the Pacific and sunrises on the canyons. I've come across the greatest beauties nature has to offer. So then, I suppose you can figure how coming home isn't an entirely pleasurable experience. Routine and good company are enjoyable enough, but there's nothing sweeter than adventure.
Timing has never been a strong suit of mine, either. I was so eager to be a 6th Grader and be "top dog", yet alas, I took sick, in my own fashion, and missed out on nearly all of it. I planned this trip with idolizing eyes. Every day I lived, I lived for the day I'd see those canyons again, yet a month before we departed, apathy, like a plague, began to creep over me. This trip could have been so much sweeter, had it occured six months earlier. Most pressing, though, is the fact that, at the moment, I couldn't give a rats ass about Harry Potter. Whether he lives or dies is no longer of concern to me at the moment. I'm afraid my timing is just flat out rubbish, but I will say that it is nice to be back and relieved of the close quarters with my parents. Here's a picture that serves as a proper finishing to all things that need finishing.
Deadwood's amazing. Seriously, you need to watch this show. It's a western the way westerns should be. That is, crude, raw, and filled with whores. If you like... well, I'm not entirely sure what to compare it to, seeing as it's never really had any other show to come close to it as far as style goes. I'll just say that if you like damn good television, you'll like it. Oh, and it's probably best if you aren't really bothered by the phrase "fuckin' cocksucker," but even if you are, you'll get over it right fast.
Next bit of trash (although I deeply regret calling it that) is that I'm flat out addicted to Queen. Seriously, it's bad. Really bad. I... I can't listen to anything else, because nothing even comes close to Freddie's vocals and the unbelievably epic style of Queen. All I can do now is sit and wait for it to phase out like every other thing that takes my fancy, but part of me hopes to God it never does.
Last bit of trash here. I appear to have taken ill. A cold in July. How's that for bizarre. Anyways, I feel rather like crap, and no thanks to all the social calls. Two days, two days since we got back (including the day we arrived). That's how many days I've had to myself. I reckon that ain't helping much.
Alright, now all that being said, I can move on to the fun bits. And naturally, they all escape me at the moment... ah, fuck it, not again.
I suppose one may be curious as to the outcome of the trip. It doesn't feel right to be home. A day for both Canyonlands and Arches? What a load of crap that is. During this trip I saw sequoias, waterfalls, plains, deserts and valleys. I've seen sunsets on the Pacific and sunrises on the canyons. I've come across the greatest beauties nature has to offer. So then, I suppose you can figure how coming home isn't an entirely pleasurable experience. Routine and good company are enjoyable enough, but there's nothing sweeter than adventure.
"Certainly, travel is more than the seeing of sights; it is a change that goes on, deep and permanent, in the ideas of living." - Miriam Beard
Timing has never been a strong suit of mine, either. I was so eager to be a 6th Grader and be "top dog", yet alas, I took sick, in my own fashion, and missed out on nearly all of it. I planned this trip with idolizing eyes. Every day I lived, I lived for the day I'd see those canyons again, yet a month before we departed, apathy, like a plague, began to creep over me. This trip could have been so much sweeter, had it occured six months earlier. Most pressing, though, is the fact that, at the moment, I couldn't give a rats ass about Harry Potter. Whether he lives or dies is no longer of concern to me at the moment. I'm afraid my timing is just flat out rubbish, but I will say that it is nice to be back and relieved of the close quarters with my parents. Here's a picture that serves as a proper finishing to all things that need finishing.
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