Airing Out Insomnia

I've never had trouble sleeping before lately...

It's 3:32 a.m. right now and I'm powerless but to set some things down.

I've had a few people encouraging me to "lock it up".  Hell no.

No, I'm not DRUNK... nor (very) HIGH.

This old Viaje is finally sinking in.

Maybe I'm actually learning something.  Very slowly.

It is my sincere hope that some of these little thoughts, when read, ping around yer brain just right and yer off better off for it.

Maybe you're laughing.

Maybe you're crying.

Maybe just the slightest little curiosity has been fulfilled

Whatever.

***

Lyric of the Night

GRAND FUNK RAILROAD, Sin's a Good Man's Brother

Ain't seen a night,
things work out right,
go by.

Things on my mind,
and I just don't have the time,
and it don't seem right.

Ain't seen a day,
that I don't hear people say,
they know they're gonna' die.

This may seem a little bit crazy,
but I don't think you should be so lazy.

If you think you've heard this before,
well, stick around I'm gonna' tell you more.

One just like the other,
sin's a good man's brother,
but is that right?

You tell me that I don't,
then I say I won't,
but then I might.

You said this is the way it's supposed to be,
but it just don't seem right to me,
and that's outta' sight.

Some folks need an education,
don't give up,
or we'll lose the nation.

You say we need a revolution?
It seems to be the only solution.

***

The only problem with doing whatever you want whenever you want is that sometimes you can't.  I've gotten so used to having it my way that I've spoiled myself rotten.

Life's been too good for too long, and I was due.

***

All these outdoorsy sports I've taken to heart are essentially the same.  Skiing.  Climbing.  Kiting.  Sailing.  Surfing.

The point of them is to exist completely in the moment exhibiting power, confidence, and grace in an ever-changing, occasionally dangerous environment.

Ideally, one takes that power, confidence, and grace and applies it to the ever-changing, occasionally dangerous environment called REAL LIFE.

Easier said than done.  I think I've met maybe two people who actually had REAL LIFE figured out.

***

There's a huge cock rock poised at the mouth of the Columbia River Gorge.  For propriety's sake they call it "Rooster Rock" instead of "Cock Rock".

Rooster Rock State Park, about 20 miles outside Portland, is a nudist hang out and the whole vibe there is pretty pervy.

I've been there a handful of times because it's a great kiteboarding spot on Easterly winds.  Based on cars in the parking lot, I'd say on a weekend day there are at least 300 naked people doing their thing in the woods surrounding Rooster Rock.

The public bathroom there is the kind of place where you don't want to touch anything.  It exudes a creepy aura of raunch.  The place is significant to me because I encountered a perfectly frank bit of graffiti there, which I've also taken to heart:

SEXUAL ADDICTION = NEED FOR VALIDATION

While I'm more a slave to love than a sex addict, the essential truth still applies.

Looking back, I see a decade of searching for validity with love after love.  I see long spells of comfort, a few trips to hell, and a million little glimpses of happiness.

Live and learn, right?

At least I'm not a slave to the almighty dollar.

***

Then again...

I've become a greedy little bastard the few times when I started making too much money.

I think most people suffer from the same thing.

***

I've brooded on whatever great irony is looming for far too long.

It's time to move on to greener mental pastures because the whole apocalypse preparatory thing has hit the mainstream.  I'd prefer to stay at least one step ahead of the masses.

Anyway, there's nothing more to say, just a lot of shit to do.

I find myself re-perusing the "doomer" websites like this.

These guys are making a killing off of fear.

***

If I had $100,000 I'd fly to California and buy a big old boat.

I'd stockpile enough freeze dried food on her for a couple years.  Lots of fishing gear.  Extras of everything.

Then I'd sail it right back to Gigante and keep doing what I'm doing, but with an eye always to the horizon.

I'd buy a little plot from Dale, dig a well, set up a windmill, and plant a bunch of mango an banana trees.  Throw up a little shack.  Raise chickens and pigs in the yard.  Ride a fucking horse down the beach with my surfboard strapped to the saddle.

If shit went dangerously awry in Central America I'd swim to the boat, drop the mooring and point her straight out to sea.

Find myself an island where they don't know the world's ending and that whitey's to blame.  Fuck, find myself an island with nobody on it.  And wait it out.

Anyone got an extra $100,000 lying around?  You can come with.

I'll do 85% of the shit work.

Max