Insomnolently Thick

My love is away -- America's Gateway. Meanwhile recovery from the 4.00am SFO dropoff remains an abstract notion; between busyness and nocturnal nuttiness I've not managed more than 3 hours of sleep since Monday morning's 45 minute nap. It is making for an interesting experience, rather reminiscent of my post-landing lizard-brain functioning after a non-stop flight I took (c. 1998) from Amsterdam to Hong Kong, entombed in a middle seat, coach section thank you very much.

My lack of access to any heavy machinery to operate at this time is a good thing for us all.

In between sentences here I am lapping up the last of an exquisite roasted duck curry; leftovers having steeped in the refrig since last Thursday's dinner at Thai Pepper. Washed down with some icy root beer, seems quite close to haute cuisine to me.

Majority of the day passed with yours truly toiling in the mines of web-based job listings. Makes the notion of a endoscopy somehow more appealing. Breakfast with one good friend, and lunch with two others, made for at least a brush with the Universes Outside. And now I'm going to venture out one last time for a weekly gathering I attend . . . let's hope the streets are cleared in advance of my sleep-driving journey. (In Curry I Trust.)

Ciao

Seeking Saline

Welcome back.

Discovery: aforementioned email problem is a non-issue . . .

Day:
Part 1: studying software (semi-remedial work).

Part 2: sweet quite time relaxing with my love.

Part 3: Excellent meditation session with a group of friends.

Part 4: Dinner -- restaurant interior very cool indeed; the food, however, was as disappointing as the ambiance was excellent. (Will try a different dish next time -- then offer a verdict.)

Part 5: Dessert -- a wonderful parking-lot discussion with a good friend..

Part 6: How Did I Get Here? scenario wherein I found myself taking a trip down memory lane,
back to 1989 when I made a solo spiritual sojourn to the quite remove Saline Valley;
Evil Internet allowed me to spend far more time that I should tracking down other
Saline visitors' photos of the place. Sadly it seems to have deteriorated somewhat
due to a reduction in the water flow into the natural springs, essentially closing 2 of 3
pools. Would be a very long and arduous journey to discover there is scant
room at the inn. No images of the homesteader's cabin where I had my first,
certified spiritual experience.

Part 7: Instead of being smart enough to go to bed, spent considerable time replacing initial
Saguaro Wandering image, then writing this breathtakingly interesting update.

Bonsoir.

Genesis

Well, here it is: 02:08 Pacific Time (Standard or Savings I never know: Arizonans ignore such craziness whenever possible) . . . and long over due I suppose, this constitutes my belated entry into the Modern Age of blogging . . .

Wow. It wasn't so bad, except that after an hour or more of poking around I remain unable to figure out how to remove my private email address from the Title section. Any hints for me?

It is far too late after an especially long day to offer up much here, beyond noting that I must give a nod to my good friend Jerry for (unwittingly and as yet unawares) providing the inspiration to delve into this journey. Yet another distraction for which I have no legitimate time.

Still. Here I am. All thanks to Jerry's own blog, which has come along rather nicely, his effort to maintain a connection as he endures (and hopefully increasingly enjoys) his first trip overseas -- a lengthy visit to South Korea.

So, who knows what I'll do here. Perhaps a short story. Or random rants. Or some emphasis on photography. (There's that time factor again: I played around far too long trying to get the saguaro just so, for my logo. I'm sure I am the only one on Planet Earth who really cares about the nuances of abstraction in this little image. The original was a photo I took last December near The Rock, a beloved place of private renown nestled in the alluvial plane on the sunset slopes of Gates Pass. Taking as much time as I did on this trivial little project leaves me little hope of having enough allocated years left to make this blog a private homage to my art. But we shall see.)

The apparently new neighbors are doing their best to simulate the inane and extremely irritating behavior of oh-too-juvenile intoxicated twenty-somethings, banging around doing God-knows-what on the other side of my condo's too-thin-for-such-nonsense walls. Great. After 11 years of nicely quiet wall-mates it appears payback for my own college years' activities has landed next door.

On that note I think it is time I finally get to bed.