July 05, 2007

Roadnotes: Rockaway, OR 1

Journal entry: July 3rd

I went camping once, in Wyoming, and we were about to go to sleep when this light just sort of...switched on. It was bright.

We couldn't see what was making the light because of the trees, so we took off, into the woods. We didn't need flashlights.

I was excited. I had been reading up on UFOs and I thought maybe we were about to see something incredible.

We made our way through trees and more trees and then we saw it: it was the moon. It was nothing more than the moon, huge on the horizon. It was the moon.

Another time, I was camping in Colorado in sub-freezing temperatures. I had gotten drunk off of a half bottle of Woodford Reserve and added a few mushrooms to that.

I wandered into the woods and found a place to pee. As I let it out, I looked up. Through the thick forest canopy I could see the stars and I knew that everything was just perfect.

But the thing is, I remember thinking that everything was perfect, but I don't actually remember what that felt like.

And now I'm on the Oregon coast. As the others prepare for bed, I step out of the house, the beautiful house with the nice deck with a view of the ocean. I step out and walk around the house until I'm out of reach of the yard light. There is very little light pollution and I look up.

The stars are out. The constellations are easy to spot.

But I'm stuck. I can't feel it.

It's not perfect for me, anymore, no matter how perfect it is.

Also, I lost at Yahtzee today. Big time.

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