Friday, November 1, 2013


DAY 2 – October 31, 2013 - WYOMING
Cold. I hardly remember being this cold in a long time. Sinclair, Wyoming—a God-forgotten town out in the enormity of a forgotten nowhere. Dried grassy openness the color of death and the only living thing in it—the angry tumbleweeds sloping down the great vastness; darting by in front of you like some type of mad creature—suicidal souls in rage with themselves or in a secret combat against you. Like lonely lost soul looking where to smash their cluttered tired heads.
The pass over the Snowy Range of the Medicine Bow Mountains: Rawlins, Laramie, Cheyenne, Rawlins; white light showering the tall mountains under a blanket of snow; the light a tinted veil of an overcast glow, gray and dull, and yet so brilliant and magnificent and clear as I had never seen. And for some reason I thought of those long ago images of my childhood of the Nativity night and the Christ Baby in the humble hay baby bed under such deep cobalt starry night in Jerusalem... and I would spend hours looking at these images; trying to find a meaning to it; a significance that perhaps it wasn't meant to be, or understood... finding a purpose to my own life—so young; and yet so old...
We drove guided by strong winds and snow for many miles. Wind blew the clumps of snow perilous ganging from dried vegetation, and spread it around in thin trembling ghostlike forms.... thin sheets of ice floated in the wintry air like specters holding hands; dancing to some mysterious music only heard by them... daredevils—they danced and crossed the road in front of you... laughing. How peculiar and, sinister, this phenomenon cause by ice and frigid air seem to be... it left me wonder about it.

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