At the bars

"After work the American girls went into the bars and intoxicated themselves and looked for men to have sex with. He knew what talking to them was like. She would ask what he did for a living and where he lived and if he owned his own place and then, if she wasn’t too drunk, she proceeded to test him in more subtle ways. It was a game. If he played the game correctly he would have sex with her. But sometimes her girlfriend came and dragged her off. That was how it worked in America."

My Friday night, as described perfectly by Moraline. She tore a piece of napkin and wrote her number in pen and gave it to me. I did not ask for it. She was pretty and blond and played with her hair, so she was most likely ovulating and desiring intercourse. Despite her looks, she was part of the matrix, a very pretty and unique cinder block pinned between the tonnage of the wall over which I had jumped. So she had to give me her number, as I would not ask for it. Just as I did not ask for her name. She had to tell me. Her friend had to tell me. Her favorite city was Budapest, she said. That's not a very free city, I thought, so you must like charming socialism. She volunteered in the Bronx, the only white girl. When the two girls left I put the scrap of napkin in my back pocket, got their seats and was happy to finally sit down.

Saint Maximin

What on earth has happened to this martyr? You like Metallica? she said. Really? she said. Man, asking a mouse if it like cheese. Ain't got time for that. I got a world to see man, whole globe I'm going to walk around. Man, I'm waving goodbye. You feel real numb around the move or the travel. I know I'm not moving to any place permanent. It's a let down and a relief and a sense of great joy. They say Maximin's got maybe a few years left in him, maybe, maybe so. Man, I bet I wish I had more years once I get out of the matrix. I remember looking deep in to the ridges of the Andes and seeing something out there, a place no one had ever been, the one thing the first man did when he could, the fist thing the first man in the world did when he had had enough, enough food, water, light, heat, for himself, but had enough of wherever it was that he was. Then he gets the cave he always wanted. He builds his home. And then goddamn it, pray that he doesn't think of a woman. He'll think of a woman. He'll go out into the ridges of the Andes to find her. His home might burn down or collapse while he's gone. But he knew it was the journey. He never wanted anything, he never wanted to stay anywhere anyway.

Species

Species' making observations on their own evolution? How strange? That a species would protest its evolution? Write articles about evolution. One is doing or observing, and those who only observe understand nothing. Those who do both, do both. Those who do, this is what we oft refer to as God.

The Irish cyclist

"The one legged squats generate more wattage than most men can generate in their lives.

General, I soon head to Colombia for my visit with you. I hope you have left the place in good shape. I arrive to Colombia to learn how they solve their problems. This is why to travel, according to the Irish man met along the roads of France, the old Irish man. This is why to travel, to find how the people solve the problem. "

Mountains

I ran the trail today, in the mountains, rocks, red and brown dirt, boulders, ridges, foothills, distant peaks, and the feeling the mountain will kill me.

But what's death anyhow, right? If it is predictable, if your life is prolonged by the wishes or wants of others, you have lost your way. No, rather, go when you want to go. Don't let people say the 'risk-reward' was stupid. No, the death was beautiful, the risk, the courage, the sacrifice, and effort. Choose your death wisely. It will come. Face death with two clenched fists, and a stance that says "I've got 13 motherfucking rounds, you fuck."

Moraline's footnotes

Important ideas hide in footnotes. They hide in photographs. Recently, Moraline wrote the following in a footnote to one of my recent pieces:

"If he can go through the difficult process of stripping away the cultural elements that direct him against his nature, the man in the lineage of the hunters of old can himself begin to live again as a hunter.

His life will assume a modern form: maybe a mercenary, or an adventurer, a speedy runner across the mountains, and maybe a cyclist. What is common among the forms is that this man will look to new lands. The hunt is always an exploration into new, often dangerous, territory. The home, the city, the apartments, and the securities and pleasures and comforts of girlfriends and families are all its opposite.

This man who runs and hunts in new lands has allowed his destiny to become him.

He goes alone or with other men so destined."

The city

Twilight 22: Electric Kingdom

"Huh deep in the city people live in the streets

You got to be careful of everyone you meet

There's lootin' and shootin' people stabbin' and grabbin'

The innocent by stander the police are grabbin'

Ain't it a pity 'cause you hate the city

But the way you feel ain't no big deal

You've got to survive and that the real nitty gritty

You go uptown downtown you've got to turn your life around

Back in the jungle a man is free

Free from the street from captivity

Break out break in it doesn't matter where you've been

Snake pit lion's den you need someone to be your friend"