I’ve been caught up

in activities spent in Denver the last full week, including bee-stings, beers, bands, an overwhelming sense of community, and overwhelming topic of “moving elsewhere.” I have been hand writing my experiences there of the last 7 days, narrating feelings and events in a little flowery notebook. Now, after a 14 hour day, I’m fading. I’m exhausted and itchy, I passed out on the plane while listening to Midlake. I talked to a mountain dwelling lady for awhile about the politics of marijuana and mountain sports, the names of mountains in the Cascades. We flew just after sunrise. I read some José Saramago and woke up over Washington. Now, itching with exhaustion, I need to admit I’ve been too busy to publish any writing up here. I have a specific Denver writing project I’m working to accomplish. In any case, at least I was focused on the present happenings. The way plants looked in sunlight and the way margaritas tasted, how the sunburned eyes felt like a precursor to another migraine, to the verbalization of unspeakable things, to what happens to me if I talk out loud all of the things I should’ve just written down and moved away from.

Tomorrow morning at 4am I climb to Camp Muir on Mt. Rainier, to 10,000 + feet over the river valleys below. Good bye.


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