Go back to the Jim

It's time to go back to the Jim. It's time to wander off from the suburbs and go into the fucking desert like a tourist with a back pack full of sun screen and a hand-full of ham sandwiches.

To anything you would like to ask the answer is YES!!! as long as you go back into the desert dressed like a tourist from the suburbs.

Things are not tottering any more, they are clear like the sun going into the sand while you're smoking a cigarette on a dune, waiting for night and the stars. This is a free tour of the lion hunt of which you will understand exactly nothing. And that is a good thing.

You are in the desert now to understand the lion and not see it. You are not ready for that yet. All you have are ham sandwiches and sunscreen not a knife made out of bone and the cloth of knowledge.

Wait for the moon to rise in the west and undesrtand the sunset while you smoke your cigarette. The other traveler strums his guitar and writes songs while seeing beauty and you say YES!!! and not a word passes between you any more in the cool windy night.

There is dust everywhere and the coyote rises its head from underneath the veil, howling from a rocky outcrop into the night sky of dark blue. Your mind travels stopping now and then like a drunk man who has forgotten how is it exactly he ran.

You see the woman, smelling of lavander adorning desert figs to her hair. She smells as water from a deep and dark well under the light of stars. You are falling in love in the desert. The desert is not dead or deadly, it is the place where things have come to rest and where most people go to sleep.

Traveler!!! You are only visiting, but YES!!! You will sooon begin to understand how it is to rest in the desert.