May 21, 2007
Dead Hippies Tour Update

First the airlines lost our luggage with all of our gear and clothes. We had to go pick them up ourselves the next night.

What’s the why of the are what who do’s? I could sware I know what to say. I couldn’t think of this as changing.

Does everything lead us to question everything?

Prohibited from campfires of any kind.

Serine splendor calls for.

Nautilus of confusion in a bar of grease traps.

On May 17, 2007, I kicked back and wrote you a verse of prose. I didn’t think about the final thing. Sitting on a mountain of together my love dear. The possibilities make limits of closure. Trees hold the sounds of an overforest. Come sleep with me in my skin. It’s our skin. Find man in every corner of all six globs. Grab a cell phone to tell me I’m right.

Tell me the abuse doesn’t relate in all spectrum of spectrums. Write it down to make sure that you’re writing it down to make sure.

A postcard with a return address to the place you’re not.

Dreams of scary acid trips.

Being on painted rock mountain helps in realizing the land we all share. There is no one here, so we can’t be guilty.

You can hear the wind before it reaches, but nothing prepares for the cold meeting. Clear crystal blue lake largely here for company. Could use a coffee now to stay awake.

Earths, dialer, and inside blood red.

We sat around “Lake Tao” and smoked a lot.

On the first night we arrived at the trail at 12 am, so we slept under the sky in sight of the lake, which was under the sun in the morning. Then we were awake we hiked to the top of Cinder Cone and ate avocado burritos with a wondeful view of the Northern Sierras, and about 7 miles later we pitched our tents at Painted Rock where a Coyote surprised us while cruising within 20 yards of our standing. He was looking for that brave, crafty Chipmunk that stole Andrew’s cracker the next morning.

After hiking 5.5 miles back to “Tao” we met a friend at hiked to the Brockway Summit and made camp again, where we sang about blood red, seven, Dialer, and how mushrooms are better than God and acid works better than church; all while singing backwards. We recorded it too.

We’re now in the safe arms of Sacramento ready to invade the Bay Area. We go there today.

i lost my wallet somewhere in sacramento which is making the process a little more difficult then expected. i’m working on finding a form of ID and some money as i write this. i’m on the phone with the credit union in a smooth jazz purgatory waiting to admit to them how careless i am…

its a minor setback, it cannot distract from my realizations of realizations. we are weavers and seers coming into our own. cascades and tunnels become textures and form.

how are we live our lives? i can keep walking with joy though my feet are broken? i don’t have to keep it from myself to go on. it won’t always be like this. there are parts of this moment that are better to dwell on.

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