Old Self
Old Self by Robert Basilisk
You might think traveling to
a distant land conducive to
writing poetry; both being drugs.
You find yourself lost
in the same old world
(5 walls, 1 invisible)
always known, yet
different as in a dream
just before you awake
teetering on some brink?
of some thing wholly strange
and new and of course
by the time you find
what you wanted it is only
to return home
to yourself and the way
you were before.
(Photo by Lance. Me, in a cave, playing in the dirt, in Utah)
bad scene, everyone's fault
Santa brought Jawbreaker, Dear You on vinyl this year. I was reading the song lyrics in the liner notes and taking a little trip back in time this morning. Remember "Bad Scene, Everyone's Fault"? I can't be entirely certain, but I'm pretty sure I've been to a party exactly like this. Maybe even recently.
There and back
Two weeks of traveling and now I'm back home again. There is nothing better than your own bed. That's the truth. But I'm already missing the road a little bit. And missing my family. And missing the snow—that kinda cold makes you feel alive. Anyway, a few snapshots of a Colorado Christmas—lots of snowboarding, wine, sugar in all its forms, and Dexter on Netflix.
Christmas day was extra sparkly this year.
Nephew Patrick and his army of dragons. Seen How To Train Your Dragon? So good—that's no joke.
We went hotdoggin' every single day.
Pretty, pretty.
Playing. It's good for ya.
desert moon
Arches National Park is my new favorite spot. We camped out in the snow and went on all the hikes—and I'm being truthful when I say that we saw every goddamn arch in the whole place. The nights were bitter cold though, and so you'd sit as close as possible to the fire, so that your face and the front of your legs were almost burning, but your back would still have to face the icy night.
Now I'm in Colorado in the middle of a snowglobe and it's quiet and lovely, too.
Slim ridge rocks like rows of teeth.
Look very closely and you'll see a tiny creature in black and white striped tie-dye. That's me.
Petroglyphs. Ironically, they very closely resemble nephew Patrick's kindergarten drawings.
Hole in the wall.
Nerds on a mission.
Canyonlands was lost in the fog, but you still felt the enormity of the place.
Less of a hike, more of a scramble.
Merry Christmas from Arches. Brrrr....
After cold-ass camping, we went east to Colorado and dropped in on Aspen. There, we drank hot toddies with Trish and the Bleiler-Hotells. Whiskey, lemon, nutmeg, honey—everyone felt very warm inside.