backpack dreams

Here I am, left alone in this settling cloud of dust. And all I want to do is float along with it, until I'm down down down and all I'm breathing is dirt dirt dirt. I want to lay under the stars again and listen to The Clash and The Cure and Chris Bell (and maybe some Chet Baker) and torture myself with this damned wishful thinking. To the point where my palms are cold and clammy and I'm nervous and I'll clench my hands into fists so all they can feel is themselves and how clumsy and frigid they are, and how they make me.

is not very pleasant.


My sunflowers are growing! One has already bloomed and the other two are on their glorious way.

This song was stuck in my head for many of my hikes, for whatever reason. I remember watching this movie in Korea, when I really had nothing to do except watch movies and tutor a couple kids a few hours every week. I was pretty lonely/bored then.
Anyway, I'm back from backpacking (??? pack from packbacking???) and it was great. Although I do have dozens of disgusting bites all over my body.

Leaving for my backpacking trip tomorrow! It's weird carrying virtually everything you'll need all on your back. And my uncle has this meticulous process of checklisting and of little Ziploc baggies and of double-checking the list and my backpack has all these buckles and straps I can tighten and he even let me borrow his spare Swiss army knife and we're getting to eat freeze dried food and homemade trail mix and God! Even just preparing for the last hour or so makes me excited. Course, I hope I'm not a total drag to the group, but we're only going about 5ish miles a day, so hopefully I can make it. I'm excited.


"The New England Puritans are not remembered for their sweetness, and yet there was much sweetness in them. This is especially true of Winthrop. For instance, he sailed to Massachusetts alone to get settled. Until he could send for his wife, Margeret, he wrote her a letter proposing that they think of each other at a specific time twice a week, a sort of steady date on the astral plane. He promised, 'Mondays and Fridays, at five of the clock at night, we shall meet in spirit till we meet in person.' But Winthrop is so busy his first few months in Massachusetts he sends Margaret a letter confessing he's been standing her up on their mental dates. 'I own with sorrow that much business hath made me too often forget Mondays and Fridays,' he wrote."
-The Wordy Shipmates, by Sarah Vowell

God, I really want to visit one of those historical towns where they hire actors to act as Puritans and like blacksmiths and shop owners and whores and stuff. God.

Went on a very long walk through my uncle's neighborhood, saw lots of pretty shit.

Inception looked interesting to me but I really feel like it's going to be one of those incredibly overrated movies of our time and now I don't want to watch it at all.

If anyone cared about what I think about Inception.

My aunt took me driving through this scenic route near where she lives, they live in Oakland, but on the mountains, so there's a great view of the entire city and San Francisco, too.
And somehow, while driving, she got on the topic of this murder that occurred in her neighborhood a few years ago, and how the man buried his wife not too far away. Then I got kind of uncomfortable because I imagined my aunt driving me off to some secluded part of the mountains and murdering me and burying me. She was wearing gloves which she said were a "better grip on the steering wheel." Lies! The entire time I imagined that I was being set up, she even took me to this really steep incline to show me a good view of the San Francisco bay area, more like push me off and kill me, muhduhuh.
And I like to think these things when I'm bored, which, quite honestly, I was. It didn't help that we kept driving up and up, which gave me the impression that she was trying to find a good spot to bury me or something like that. I was quiet as hell most of the trip because I was busy conjuring up all the possible ways I could get murdered by my aunt.
Luckily for me, both my aunt and uncle (moreso my uncle) are kind of people who can really do the talking for you while you can just sit there and nod and grunt or do whatever else that gives off the impression that you're listening.
I like them both, they're both very cool and intelligent people, but they're still quite old. My aunt was also telling me about her college days in Iowa, some 40-odd years ago. So they have their limits. So I'm still kind of lonely on my first real day. But I feel like on the backpacking trip, up in the mountains, I won't be as lonely, or at least I'll be a more happy lonely. It's pretty beautiful up here, anyway.

Okay.
Blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaappy bloopy boobies.


Highlight of today: My uncle's story of his encounter with a mama bear and her cubs.

Some are coming over T-minus 10 minutes! Oh god, I have nowhere to go, or well, I don't know. Hm.

I like staying up late in this house.
It's pretty quiet. I can watch my DVRed shows as I please. Even now, I'm sipping on my crudely made iced tea, which is still nice, probably mostly because I made it myself. I'm willing to plug my nose a bit when it comes to a lot of my own cooking and stuff like that. It's how I manage to get by with such a rudimentary skillset.
I don't think I'd mind living by myself, I like being alone, or I'm at least somewhat used to it. I take pleasure in doing simple things, like making shitty tea. Shit tea tea. Or I don't know.
I haven't watched the film Amelie, but I want to. There's a quote I keep hearing, something about enjoying the smaller things in life, like sticking your hand in a bag of rice, something like that, instead of sex.
Does it work the opposite way, too? Can little problems and troubles and thoughts bring you down even further than... the opposite of what sex apparently is. I don't know. I'm kind of tired.
Watching Band of Brothers makes me somewhat envious. I'm jealous of the bond that was formed between these soldiers, such purpose and unity. Of course, I'm sure it sucked balls to be so constantly scared for your life, but I think that might have intensified that even more. Well, if I'd been old enough back then I'd probably just be seen as some sort of Jap, so whatever.
This time next year, who will I be? It's kind of a trite question, but interesting to think about regardless.
I'm going on a backpacking trip a week from now, and shit, am I not ready for it. I'm so out of shape I'm gonna hold the outfit behind.

Hormones whoremoans, I need to absolve them somehow and perhaps just embrace them. Or not.

I didn't know we had an aloe vera plant but we do, so I ripped off a leaf/stem/spike and used its precious life juices to soothe my skin. I felt very medicine man-y.