the desert: part 1

when i first moved to santa fe, i didn't give a shit about anything or anyone. i'd already lost the two most important things that would ever come into my life. there was no point in being nice. there was no point in being sane. there was no point in asking for anything, i'd already lost the two most important...did i already say that? i did didn't i? damn it, i'm repeating myself. fuck it...things that would ever come into my life. i erroneously thought there was no getting them back. 


i was half right, but i was also half wrong, and that is going to be the important part of the story.

i arrived in albuquerque shaking and nauseous and feeling like every nerve ending had been set on fire and was slowly disintegrating like the way incense does as it burns. the doctors had been telling me for years there was nothing wrong with me. i guess it's normal to feel shaky and nauseous and like every nerve ending has been set on fire and is slowly disintegrating like the way incense does as it burns. that's what they say anyway, which means, you, yeah you, reading this right now, you must be shaky and nauseous and feeling like every nerve ending has been set on fire and is slowly disintegrating like the way incense does as it burns, because you are just a normal person reading what is clearly a normal piece of writing, so don't worry about it...it's all. perfectly. normal. doctors, with important pieces of paper that say they know everything and can never be wrong, they say you are fine. either that or your mind is having a mental problem and making you think you're shaky and nauseous and feeling like every nerve ending had been set on fire and was slowly disintegrating like the way incense does as it burns, when really...you're just mental. but if you're mental, it's not that big a deal. they just send you home. 

so i'm glad i got that out of the way and clear. we all here in this room, you, who are really sitting there, and me, via these words on these pages...we are all mental. don't forget. keep it in mind. it could be important at some point.

anyway, back to the story. i arrived in the desert. i was shaking. i was nauseous. my nerves hurt. the air was dry and the airport was ugly. i was picked up by my ex-girlfriend, a small very white girl with red freckles and red hair, who likes to smile and laugh and avoid life's normal pains at all costs. was it a coincidence that i was moving the the land of turquoise and my ex drove up in a turquiose colored car? i think not. it was fate. the kind of fate too deep and complex to understand the details of, but that is just to blatantly obvious on a very vague and meaningless level to ignore. i got into her turquoise car.

on the freeway, i looked out the window. albuquerque. 

- it's really ugly. why did you tell me to move here? 

- santa fe is not ugly.

- i really hope not.

then i a semi with holes all over it cruised up.

- why are there holes in that semi?

but before she could say anything, there was a cow nose, poking through one of the holes. it was a semi full of cows. it was a moment of clarity for me...i am very far away from my home.

so i sat in that passenger seat looking out the window at the faded colors of the landscape and some dry bushes i thought were ugly and eventually found out are called Chamisa and smell like rancid cat pee in spring. i thought about my fate in this place and what color it would be and if maybe it was going to be turquoise.

i hadn't been around long enough to know the desert sun yet and how it bleaches the color out of all our fates. it doesn't mean we don't have fates, it just means they are like ghosts. now listen, that's an important metaphor...because ghosts...they haunt.