The Wrestler

Last night I went to see the new Darren Aronofsky movie, The Wrestler. It is supposedly Mickey Rourke's comeback film. He plays a washed-up wrestler twenty years past his peak, long after alienating his wife and daughter, and long after really believing he could succeed. He has hardly any money and spends most of it getting ready for his weekend fights; these backyard wrestling matches are the only bright part of his life aside from a somewhat unbelievable connection with a stripper.

He spray tans, bleaches his long hair, and uses steroids to stay in fighting shape. I didn't think much about why I wanted to see the film and about half-way into it I wished I hadn't gone. Randy "The Ram" Robinson is a character out of my own life. His troubled relationship with his daughter very closely paralleled my relationship with my father. My father was tremendously charming when he wanted to be and the deli scene quickly reminded my of him. After finding out Randy shouldn't fight anymore he briefly attempts to straighten out and works briefly at a deli counter. He banters and is doing his best to make a job he isn't fit for enjoyable.

My father would every couple troubled years try to work and act happy. The only place he really was happy was playing with my sister and I, or probably getting high. In the film Randy easily gets along with the kids but he knows there isn't much depth to his relationships. He does his best to guide younger wrestlers and to cheer up the downtrodden Pam, who is played by Marisa Tomei.

I don't really know what the end of my father's life was like, but I can imagine that he was playing out that same pattern of trying to accept being less than what he was and then relapsing into drugs. He occasionally reached out to Emma or I but he always fucked things up. He'd leave my little sister at the mall or forget about her. The film itself is great, and the most impressive development is the humor. The film is dark and a bit depressing, but it has a levity that many of Aronofsky's other films lack. Randy knows he has failed and at times while he is pressed with his morality he laughs and tries to get by as best he can.

The last time I saw my father he had just bleached his hair and came to the pharmacy I worked in. I am sure he had done his best to look presentable. I turned the corner and there was my father, in his early fifties with bleached hair and doing his best to appear young. Despite all the years of heroin use he looked younger than his age. We had a brief conversation and I couldn't help but say I love you in reply to him. A couple minutes later I realized that again he was managing to sneak his way back into my life and I lashed out at him. I told him not to come back again.

This fucking movie brought back those moments of feeling betrayed and hurt very vividly. Just as in my life, I watched as Randy fucked up and wished that he could change. I always had this fantasy that one day my father would clean up and we could talk about our days spent playing frisbee or walking through the woods together. That never happened.

Danny Boyle and the difference between growing as an artist and responding to criticism

Danny Boyle on destiny:


When I first saw Slumdog Millionaire I was enthralled. The movie is phenomenal and the most amazing aspect of it is that the direction is very clearly Danny Boyle's. Often when a popular director makes a "serious" film suddenly they discard whatever unique style they had cultivated - perhaps with the intention of putting the story first, or finally making a serious film.

Overwhelmingly critics view Slumdog as a strong film but it is also a movie that normal people really enjoy. Through flashbacks it tells the story of a young Indian boy's life and how he came to be one question away from winning a million dollars, or however many rupees that is. It is sentimental but not cloying and frenetic but not confusing.

I do not know how every single film of Danny Boyle's has been received but I do know that with a distinctive style like his, there have been many people who have hated what he has done. He is a well-known director and very successful - the majority of people enjoy what he does but it would have been easy for him to be distracted from what he saw as his path by all of these people saying how this film is shallow or it is too much - too over the top, but really what is great about Slumdog is that he seamlessly combines everything that he has done in his previous films but only better!

Most of Danny Boyle's recent films have received fantastic reviews, but two of his earlier movies post-trainspotting were thrashed, The Beach and A Life Less Ordinary. Watching either of those movies however, you wouldn't be shocked that Danny Boyle had directed them.

I am getting at the fact that as an artist it is necessary to experiment and do many things. In the art world if someone buys a late work by a successful artist they are paying a very high premium, the argument is that their later paintings are informed by every painting before them - so the buyer isn't simply paying for that piece but every failed painting that it took to create it. There is of course a balance, and if you are failing over and over chances are you need to make some adjustments - but that does not mean you should stop exploring.

So what is good for an artist is not always going to make their fans happy. Kanye West's most recent album is not his best received. I personally don't even like it, but I think having the fearlessness to try something completely new (even if he is insane 90% of the time) is going to take him farther than sticking to what has worked in the past. Fans and the market will outgrow and forget about a musician or a writer or an artist in a heartbeat. So while someone like Lil' Wayne can put out a mixtape featuring mostly him on a vocoder and disappoint most of his fans, if he were to stop pushing his own limits he could just as easily be forgotten.

Lil' Wayne is a good example here because he usually puts out a ton of mixtapes in between albums. He is working his ass off and trying a dozen different things, but in the end for his albums he gets it together and delivers a more polished and less extreme product. He is always completely outrageous, and he has honed his image to that.

I am sure many a nascent artist has been led astray by the well-intentioned criticisms of others. Sometimes in the moment actions seem bizarre and new hobbies appear to be random indulgences, but often in retrospect these experiences take on a new meaning. Suddenly the weird infatuation has clearly contributed to a huge success. The difference between giving in to these criticisms and staying the course is self-belief. This is key quality and one that I hope to cultivate.

After Dark and Haruki Murakami

After Dark is I think the second most recent book by Murakami. Murakami is the most internationally read Japanese author. His novels often deal with dreams, unconscious impulses, cats, and a variety of bizarre-ness.

After Dark is a shorter work and a bit more spartan than his typical style. Murakami often has surreal Kafka-esque dream sequences and talking cats in his books. After Dark is a mostly straight-forward story of a girl who enjoys going out late at night and reading her book at Denny's. There is a series of tenuous connections between the book's several different plotlines but really very little happens to the protaganist Eri Asai - the girl who stays up all night long.

I won't recap the entire book but I do recommend either Kafka on the Shore or The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle as good introductions to his style. After finishing After Dark and most of his books I am usually a bit perplexed. Fortunately, I never feel like I missed something but rather that this confusion is part of his process and that I am intended to feel a bit out of sorts.

After Dark is a novel about duality, and alienation. The climax of the novel centers around a violent and random act. I wouldn't say it is the most satisfying book that I have read of his.

His other more recent book is a memoir called "What I Talk about When I Talk about Running." He briefly journals about his overall progress running, but mostly focuses on how running enables him to better write novels and how he came to be an author. He started out as the owner of a jazz bar, and when he heard about a writing contest he wrote and mailed in a novel. Eight months passed and he had almost completely forgotten about it when he received a large package containing the manuscript and the first place award.

He had never really considered himself a writer, but after this he considered whether he had a talent or an obligation to pursue it. At first he would write after closing the bar but after awhile he realized that he simply couldn't really write and keep the bar. He took a chance and sold the bar. His wife would work while he wrote and after a year he sent his second book to publishers. He started running because he was gaining weight from sitting at a desk instead of some sort of more physical work. He views his running as a sort of training for writing. It clears his mind and also keeps him in a habit of constantly exerting himself.

I am aiming to create that same sort of habit within myself, where I cannot help but write daily. I am sure it will always be work but if I can develop the resiliency to continue to write even on the days that I feel very little motivation to I will be happy.

David Deida blowing my mind

Today on the ride home from work I was listening to some David Deida. He is a modern Tantra teacher essentially. He spoke about the immense power of women and their love. One woman who he had worked with for years was attacked in Central Park. The man had a gun and forced her to the ground. As he was raping her, she kept looking into his eyes but his eyes would not meet her gaze. Finally she put her hand on her face and said It's ok, it's gonna be ok, I love you. I love you."

The man broke down into tears and stopped. He said no one had ever told him in his entire life that they loved him. He said the park was dangerous at night and walked her home to her apartment.

I can't even imagine the amount of presence she had in that moment to give in and to see the pain in his heart instead of fighting or shutting off. As soon as I listened to this story I teared up a bit. Somehow this whole story cut through to what really was happening in both these people's lives and ended in this transformative episode. That man was changed immediately and lastingly from that experience. I am going to do my best to be fully present all day long, and practice bingo to see how i can better serve those around me.

Don't you just love goodbyes?

I finally did it. We went to the beach and she had an attitude as usual. It is so sad to see her now. Life is very joyless for her, at least around me. I couldn't walk away without a little more certainty. I love her. She treated me awfully, I wasn't perfect but I know I did absolutely everything I could to make it work. After that what can you do?

After she ate she wasn't quite as miserable. We walked for a bit and I kissed her, told her I couldn't keep seeing her and wondering if she was betraying me. I told her it hurt and that if we were going to keep seeing each other and take things slow then we could try that for a bit and see how it went. I said there was a part of me that was very reluctant to offer this and that I couldn't really trust her. As much as anyone else can say she is awful, I know her and I know she loves me. She said she was worried we would always be on eggshells with each other, and after awhile said she would have to think about it.

Here I think I surprised her. I said forget it, the offer is off the table. She didn't understand why things had to be black and white and solved right then. Every time things are gray with her I get fucked. For me, if things were reversed and I cheated on her I would be doing everything I could to make it right, if I thought I treated her like shit I would be doing everything to fix it.

I can't fix her. I drove her home and we argued a bit. She said she was 94% sure that she was making a huge mistake by letting me go. Maybe she was doing the right thing for everyone but herself. I want to give her credit for that. I shouldn't. Love isn't giving up on trying to treat someone right, it isn't getting your head on straight then seeing if you can do things right - it is doing whatever it takes for someone else. I am proud I didn't say oh take your time think it over, I'll just be miserable. I believe she loves me, it was very sad to hear her say that she wishes more than anything that she could be everything I need. I do too, but I gave her many chances for that.

"in a big, big way
i am really small
i get off my feet
but i'm still distant"

"You say 'Hey I never fall' as you're falling down"

I get paid a salary at the gallery now. It isn't much but it is a step in the right direction. It shows that a man who is rarely wrong about money believes I am a good bet. At the end of the day he isn't wagering a lot and has very little to lose on me, but the very fact that the owner and director believe in me gives me hope. This is a tremendous opportunity. I could make very real money and I am around people who are virtually self-employed. I am excited and I also feel like I am doing something that I value and bring value to.

Also once I can sell art I can sell anything. I believe I am on the path to making serious money.

Money isn't everything. I have very little material desires, my only true attraction to money is the freedom it will allow me.

Anyways, the girl has re-gone nuts and I need to extricate myself from this situation without hurting myself too much or hurting her unnecessarily. Oddly enough, one of the main reasons I moved here was her but I couldn't take her treating me shitty whenever she was stressed out (which was often). Every month or so we would have a large fight about it, generally because I would be nice to try to keep her happy, which enabled the behavior further, and then eventually would lash out because it became too much. I should have let her handle her problems but from what I have seen she rarely does.

This sucks to say but I don't think I can be with her. After the fight where I tried to break up with her but then settled on a break, we spoke days later and she wanted a month break.. This was not at all what I wanted or needed and I got really freaked out. The one person who I have loved unconditionally wanted a month away from me when I was saying I needed more support and less bullshit.

The time was supposedly for her to change. She made me promise that the break would be one in which we remained faithful to each other. A week passed and I heard she was kissing this dorky guy she knows from work. We fought and I was set on breaking up, but I couldn't do it. I couldn't look at her sad face while she said she was sorry and walk away. A couple days later we slept together, then again, and I've told her the break is done - we can see whoever we want but unfortunately I know she is seeing him and me and she is worried that I'm not going to be here when she comes to her senses, but deep down she believes that in months we will be together again.

A part of me really wants to believe that. I love her. The reasonable part of me thinks about what us together would look like and that is where the problems arise. She couldn't see her guy friends without me being paranoid since they all live with the dorky kid. How could I really get to a point where I trusted her? Why would this time be any different?

How I see things is that in three months when I'm on my feet (no thanks to her) she could easily show up and want me back, but really what is in it for me? Someone who will back down when I need help most? Someone who cheated on me?

She is supposedly coming to the art opening tomorrow. I will probably end up sleeping with her but I need to stop seeing her. This cannot end well, best case scenario we both keep our hearts cold and aren't fully available to whoever else we see. Other good scenario, at least according to my naive hopeful fantasy self is she decides she wants me, that one is bullshit. Even if that happened, it would not be right. She has betrayed my trust and done nothing to redeem herself. She was sorry but did she really do anything about it?

"Your blood is all around you now but you see nothing at all."

Eureka!

I finally, not on my own, but finally stuck a move on this problem I have been working on for weeks. It's tough, you get pretty spread out leg-wise then have to pull up on a hold that is out far to your left. Apparently, if I had had my hand out one more inch the hold gets a lot stronger and now I can pull myself up and transition into a small dyno up to a flake and then continue the traverse. Unfortunately, I need a mat because the traverse gets sketchy there and I don't want to fall and hurt my ankles or something.

Fortunately, I have some work - just some internet stuff but it is a very welcome windfall. Between that and hopefully getting a part-time or full-time job, maybe the disney digitization job I will be putting money into my bank and be able to buy myself a crashpad AND start going to the climbing gym so I can work on some upside down stuff. Moving out would be nice too, but climbing first!

I just finished reading Beautiful Boy by David Sheff. It is his account of his son's meth addiction. I've gone through sort of the reverse situation with my dad and it has been painful reading but also helpful and soothing. One of the little points Sheff makes is that, since addiction is such an unrecognized disease people hide the addicts in their family, and instead of getting the support of say someone with a family member who has cancer people generally get no support. When I was in school, some people in our small town definitely knew, but I was ashamed. I never felt like it was my fault that my dad was a heroin addict but I also knew it was something to hide. No one ever said, "David (my dad) has a disease, and he needs treatment." Of course many people do not believe this, but Sheff and the research on this matter hold up very strongly. Heroin is bad, but Meth is worse in terms of what it does to your brain and serotonin levels.

If you don't want to read about this stuff, by all means stop. It isn't super happy or necessarily something you want to know about me, but it feels good to write about.

My father started using drugs pretty seriously as a teenager. He was a child prodigy on drums, jazz musicians would travel to Albany to witness his skills, and on some level I think he was ashamed to play rock music. He couldn't play in any of the clubs at that age and in that location. His mother had Huntington's disease which is a degenerative brain disease and is easily passed from mother to child. It is one of the few diseases that is a dominant genetic trait, meaning that generally if your parent has it you have a 50% chance of having an untreatable and nasty disease. Her condition was actually fine when David was young but around his early twenties things got much worse. No one really knew what was wrong, but she began to act very erratic, cooking spaghetti for hours, beating some of her other children, and so on. His dad's reaction to everything was to keep things normal and act as though everything was okay. It was a massive denial and is something he regrets deeply now. David was the only one who acknowledged it and ended up having to tell his three younger sisters that there was something very real wrong with mom and that their dad didn't want to deal with it.

I wasn't there, but in my eyes this was the moment that killed my dad. I'm sure that not meeting his potential weighed on him, but I understand what it is like to go through something like that at a young age. I know deeply what it is like to suddenly have way more responsibility than you are ready for. Ironically enough, my dad's position as a young man mirrors what I went through as a teenager.

Someday, I want to write a novel based upon my family's story from David onto my family. I do not think it will be easy, but the story is very compelling and bizarre.

My dad went on to be one of many supremely talented musicians with a huge substance problem that prevented him from making it in a large way. He toured, made money, but eventually was relegated to playing sets with local bands for shitty covers. Any drummer who ever saw him was impressed, and it was in those moments that my dad seemed momentarily free of everything that held him down in his daily life. I'm not too sure that he felt it, or would acknowledge it, but he was free then, more free than on heroin or codeine or coke. It wasn't the whole set, or even every set but sometimes in the middle of a drum solo as his drumstick slammed into a cymbal his eyes would open just a little more and a small smile would cross his face.

Many times as a child, and even now I've thought about whether I did enough. I was only twelve when things got bad. David had overdosed in the past, and no one really knows the total, but up until then he had kept it out of the house. Like all addicts he started out saying he was deathly afraid of needles, but one day after he picked my sister and I up from the bus stop and drove us home he went into the bathroom and didn't come out. He had been very argumentative in the car, but he was probably anxious to get his fix. After waiting awhile and then asking if he was okay, I went outside and climbed onto our old rocking chair with the red paint flaking off to peer into the bathroom window. There lying face down on the floor with his beret on the floor next to him was my dad, a needle in his hand, and a bag on the floor. I didn't panic. I honestly, do not know if I would handle that same situation as well today as I did when I was a child.

Something clicked in my head, and suddenly my only focus was on that moment and fixing that situation. I went inside to my little sister Emma, and told her to go play with Anna our neighbor. She knew it was serious but I wanted to shelter her from whatever was happening. Then I called my mom, who was at work and she called the ambulance. I ran down the street to intercept my friend who was coming over. It was a cold dry day in the middle of January. I ran in my t-shirt and saw him riding his bike past the fire station. I said, "I can't hang out Brooks. I'm sorry." He was a little mad, but I had other concerns. I ran back to my house, only a short distance to find the ambulance there, and my dad being pulled out of the house on a stretcher.

He went on to go to rehab, relapse, and then clean up after having been kicked out of the family and divorced. Sometimes Emma and I would see him, or he would come to the house. He overdosed again, and after that I was done with my relationship with him. I had court mandated therapy with him, but after I turned sixteen I stopped that and had virtually no contact with him until he died when I was nineteen. There were moments where I could look at him as though he was a complete stranger, and there were others where I loved him with all my heart.

At times, as an underachieving "intelligent young man" I thought what would my life have been like if my father wasn't an addict? What school would I have gone to? Would I write regularly instead of this intermittent bullshit? Would I be exactly the same and just have a less compelling excuse? It doesn't matter, it is what it is. I am who I am because of what I have been through and I am proud of my identity and where I am in life.

I didn't intend for this to turn into a spontaneous rehashing of my dad's overdose and death but it helped. Thanks.

Start of life in a new location

Getting here was easy, staying here and building a life is going to be the hard part. I believe it will be worth it and that I will grow immensely in the process. I have thrived in worse situations, I am strong - and this is the first difficult situation I have chose for myself and that is a very welcome change. I think too often in my life I have avoided difficult situations, avoided pushing myself, and that I have missed out on a lot of my potential because of that impulse.

I'm not sure where its origins are but it probably has to do with having a hard childhood and feeling powerless during many parts of it. I am doing my best to push myself, and put it on the line to make something out here. The plan was that when I got here one of my uncle's would supply me with gainful employment. Supposedly, I had several safety nets, if Uncle Peter couldn't get me a job, then Rik surely could, and if it really came down to it I could work with my Uncle Roger. As it turns out, none of those are possibilities. Layoffs, business difficulties, and my lack of a specialization all have made me getting a "real job" difficult. This is surprisingly a good turn of events. I had and have no desire to work in any of those businesses. None of them move or motivate me, working for some assholes at a hotel or assholes at a studio, no thanks I will pass.

My resume has been sent a ton of places, but so far only one has called back other than a couple internships - Blue Clay fitness or something. I have an interview soon, to be a trainer. Who knows what will happen, I'm sure I will interview well, my only concern is that my slight build will be an issue. I am interested in personal training but I don't know if it speaks to me in the same way writing or art does.

A couple weeks ago I went to Bergamot Station and handed resumes out. I was offered and accepted an internship at a prestigious gallery there. My bosses are very friendly, and concerned about teaching me what I want to learn and helping my along my path. I am excited about it and it makes me happy to go work there. It is a wholly different world than the one I know, my boss lives in a ten million dollar house, they drive matching 2008 Cadillacs, have 400 dollar sunglasses, and sell artwork for over a 100,000 dollars at times.

Money is running low, I have 500 or so dollars left and it won't last longer than say a month or more. Now I am applying to part time jobs and hoping something will come through. I have been in tougher situations before and I have turned them around. The thing is, as much as I loved everyone in my life in New Paltz and loved the town, I needed a change and a space to grow into. I was stagnant and could have lived on okay in New Paltz for a long time, many people do, but I would not have grown into the person I am meant to be.

My days are simple outside of looking for jobs or spending my weekends with Emilie, I wake up and go climb. I'm working on a really long traverse around a 40 foot tall boulder. It starts off pretty easy, but gets facey about half-way through and there is only a really sketchy undercling to use. From there you have two very far apart feet and a strong hold far out left, leaving you very spread eagled. I can't manage to stand up on the further foothold. Its about 20 feet into the traverse and when I finally manage to stand up I will have to climb up 15 feet and continue the traverse on shallow feet and awkward handholds. I try to be sociable when I'm there, and have met some very cool old california guys, and friendly young people. Sometimes I keep to myself, it depends on my mood. Other than that, I play chess, read, and sometimes write.

I sleep in a bed shack under a palm tree, it's actually a very nice room and super comfortable. There's a ton of cats here and I love all of them. There's also a blind dog, and a goat. The goat is stubborn and often rams the kitchen door when it wants food or something else. It took some getting used to but now I don't think twice about it, Emilie won't really come over - the goat freaks her out, but it isn't much different from a dog with horns. It is definitely a bit more difficult to pet and sometimes shakes its horns at me when I pet it.

My goals right now are to get a part time job, use that money to save + get a climbing gym membership while working hard at my internship and hoping I can parlay that into a full time job opportunity at a large gallery. From there I want my own place.

I have started reading Beautiful Boy, a memoir written by a father who's son was a meth addict. I'm curious what sort of emotions it will evoke in me. Other than being more sociable, and financial goals, I am focusing on being present and feeling good. More later..

Carifornia

So I've been away from my home over 2 months now. I stayed with Devon for awhile before I left and then drove cross country to California. Driving cross country was very cool, our first stop was Asheville, North Carolina. We drove all day the first day, switching on and off between Lacy, Kubi, Kaitlin and myself. We got bad pizza in a small town in Pennsylvania. Pennsylvania wasn't too memorable, it smelled like manure and that is all I can recall. Our next stop was at this diner in Virginia. It was a pretty crazy diner, half of it was obsessed with Elvis, the other half was all about I Love Lucy. Every burger had mayonnaise on it. The lady had a huge drawl and the general vibe was much slower. I unfortunately don't have any pictures, from there we drove on and we finally got to Asheville around one. I drove up and down rolling windy hills in the dark as everyone slept and thought about how happy I was to be moving on. New Paltz will always have a special place in my heart, and I may someday return to that coast, but I needed to generate inertia, I had been working the same job for years and didn't have anywhere I was heading.

We stayed at the Days Inn and snuck in. There was a pretty close call, Lacy and Kaitlin paid for the room but they gave us the wrong keys, so as they were sneaking up the stairs Kubi had gone down to get the attendant. I told the girls he was coming up so they ran down the stairs just as Kubi and the attendant came around the corner. It felt really good to get out of the car and relax for a bit. We all fell asleep fast and woke up in the morning to check out the city. It was warm, about 55 in January and the land surrounding the small city is beautiful, composed of rolling blue hills and young trees.
The city has a similar vibe to New Paltz or Woodstock but on a larger scale. I forget the name of the place we had breakfast at but it was the best food we ate all trip. Bistro breakfast food with a southern flare, all organic stuff, exceptional prices. Our next stop was Nashville, Tennessee to see the replica of the Parthenon. It was pretty bizarre to see this huge piece of greek history in the middle of downtown Nashville, right by the university. I was really taken with it, it is one thing to hear about entasis and so on, seeing it in person is a whole other experience.

Being in a Honda Civic with 3 people you know well, and one person who is familiar was challenging. It definitely helped me develop my patience and flexibility. I'm sure that could be debated by those who came with me, but I am not always the most patient person and I definitely did my best not to cause any overt conflict. By the end of the trip there was a hostile undertone but 2 weeks is quite a long time to be cooped up with people.

I'm not going to go through every single place we stopped, our next interesting stop was the Grand Canyon. I would really love to hike down it and stay in the ranch they have there. Recently, I saw Joe Rogan doing standup and he went into this whole riff on how people think the Grand Canyon is huge, but don't even pay any attention to the stars above us. I wasn't especially struck by the size. It was just gorgeous. We got there around sunset and stayed at a hotel on the South rim. The Northern rim is closed during the winter. Contrary to my expectations there was snow all around, and it only was melting deeper in the canyon where temperatures remain warmer. They really gouge you at the grand canyon price wise but fuck it. I loved looking at the rocks and thinking of climbing out of it. It got me really excited. We did a 3 mile hike down into it, and 3 miles back out. Walking at that angle is pretty tiresome. You aren't allowed to hike down and back up in the same day since people often die or pass out from exhaustion. It was so quiet as we got down lower, really peaceful and wonderful. Each step took me further down and further away from everything else. At first we were nervous and careful about where we walked, and most of the walk down I was watching my feet not the views.

Seeing pictures of the canyon never really did anything for me, I had heard a million times how great it was, but I hadn't even planned on seeing it - We had originally planned on hitting Moab instead but the weather forced us to Arizona and it was a fortunate turn of events. The experience was really soothing and wonderful. From there we drove south to Phoenix to visit Kubi's family. The sunsets in Arizona are gorgeous, mindblowing insanely, super carcrash gorgeous.

His family put us up for the night and stuffed us full of awesome food in the morning. They were really friendly, fun and real people. Kubi and I hiked with his uncle up a small park near them and caught a glimpse of Camelback mountain. Arizona was great because I didn't have any allergies, for the first time in a long time.
Behind us to the right is the camel:

From there we drove through Sedona which has these sick mountains and Jeeps you can rent to offroad in. It looks like a ton of fun, and I'm really grateful that Lacy had us go. Then we hit vegas..

Vegas was not something I was excited about. It wasn't my thing, although there were a couple of interesting things. One of the Casinos had lionesses in a glass booth you could walk under. They looked drugged, or just miserable since they had no where to go and the trainers just sat in there with them. I think it was the MGM grand. The cigarette smoke was killing me. The aquarium at Mandalay Bay was pretty cool and a nice break from VEGAS INSTANT EVERYTHING AHH LAND. The first night vegas made me nuts and I went into some crazy pimp character and bugged kubi, after that we wandered around vegas and I watched Kubi play slots and such. My stomach was fucked up by the time we got there from eating weird food and stress. I took Tums for the first time in my life and it helped. The Treasure Island show was cool, kind of a sexy weak story pirates of the caribbean. The fountains at the bellagio and it's insane blown glass ceiling were impressive but after that it was looking at super expensive stuff and being sold whores by mexicans on the street.

The last really impressive place we went was Big Sur, and Carmel. The drive was awesome, right up the coast winding through cliffs and smelling the sea is a perfect way to travel. As we drove there I noticed green algae growing from the tree branches and it turns out it is a combination of algae and fungus which grows only in places with especially clean air. The algae lives in symbiosis with the trees, and is a pale green color. We stopped before reaching our campsite and watched the sunset on the beach.

Big Sur was very remote, and the whole town is the post office and a couple buildings. We got delicious sandwiches and firewood and set off for our campsite. It was a bit cold at night, and building a fire as a group really brought us together. It felt good. We went to sleep after the fire went out and it was FREEZING in the morning. Kubi woke up and said fuck it, and went to sleep in the car. It was really pretty to wake up in the red woods and then set off from there.

As we drove on we saw a nature preserve at Carmel and stopped. It was gorgeous and a ton of fun to run around on the rocks. We got to see a bunch of sea lions sunning themselves and got very close to them. After that we headed up to San Francisco and ran around and had some sourdough bread, apparently there's a kind of yeast that only survives there, it was good and seeing the bridge was cool. I didn't get to walk on it since we weren't there during the day. That was a downer since after seeing The Bridge it has been something I wanted to do, but I chilled out with Kubi and had awesome ice cream twice in one night.

After that everyone flew back and I came to my aunt's house where I am now living. More later.