Yay, my daddy wrote me a story from his life, i wish my parents could just write down every detail they remember from their entire lives. Too bad they weren't bloggers.

The horse trip began with some guy who heard that horses were cheap in Bolivia. I am not sure where he heard it maybe he had just watched "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid". Any way he said it would be fun to travel to Bolivia buy some horses in the east and ride them across the mountains to the coast into Peru or Chile. I am not sure why the idea sounded so good but there were 5-6 or six people in the dorm including Jennifer Bates who liked the idea. Every body in the Dorm in Aspen in 1967 were transients. Some were skiers, some were just travelers looking for the next "in" place. Maybe every body had a secret dream to be a cowboy.

Anyway later in the winter the idea had changed to "lets go up to Montana buy some horses and ride them to California." Sounded much better. By summer everyone had backed out and decided to go to Nantucket or Drop City or back home to make some money. Except for me. I loaded up my VW with all the possessions I owned and headed for Montana Summer of 1967. It was a nice time when all I owned fit in a VW. Later at the next move from Central City it would be a pickup truck and a car. Later when I moved from Sandpoint it would be a Chevy Van.

I drove up through Yellowstone in April-very pretty. And went up to Missoula, Montana. There was a riding stable there where I rented some horses and asked about buying a horse for a trip into the Mountains. Somehow while I was there I met a girl who was from my old high school in Fairborn Ohio. She lived in Missoula with her husband who was also very nice and after telling him my plans to buy a horse and ride away, he offered to let me stay in their house. Shannon also mentioned that another friend of mine from Fairborn live nearby. His name was Paul Gordon who was the younger brother of Dow Gorden, who I was friends with in Fairborn. There was a Bar in Missoula called Eddie's Club that my new friend took me down to visit several times on the nights they sold schooners of beer for 25 cents.I kept asking people there about Paul Gorden and if they new where he lived. He was off the highway outside of Missoula and everyone kept saying -- he's not at Donovan Creek is he? the third time I heard this I asked who's at Donovan creek? And got the answer back-- oh someone started a Hippie Commune up there. So immediately I knew thats where he was. So I loaded up my VW and headed for Donovan Creek.

Eddie's Club was a wonderful Montana Bar. If you bought a man a schooner of beer he was obligated to tell you stories about life in Montana- ranching, the railroads until the scooner was empty. If you wanted to hear more you had to buy another schooner kind of like Scheherazade except it only cost another 25 cents. Several men had worked the railroads from Minnesota to Seattle. Knew stories about every section of line, every train wreck and every death, beheading , loss of limb and gory detail for the last 30 years. Old cowboys talked about cattle and rustling and Winnebago's fitted to haul cattle at night. Every story in the world about horses and bucking broncs and rodeos. No one could tell where the facts met the fantasy and after several more schooners no one cared.

So when I entered the gate at Donovan Creek- My story about buying a horse and riding to California became a free pass. Everyone would just stare and say Far Out. Would you like to stay a while. The commune was very nice about 22 people. The main building was a large kitchen and meeting room where every night the women would serve macrobiotic dinners of rice and lentils. The leader was a lady from California who had some money to buy the ranch and had ideas about having a commune which could support itself. So she had also purchased a large room sized Kodak printing , copier, publishing machine. Must have cost a fortune but the idea was to start a publishing business to support the commune. She also wanted to have horses there so I volunteered to clear out the barbed wire that was every where from old fences. I borrowed her pickup truck and some wire cutters and cut the wire into small pieces and bundled them together. After two days I had taken all the wire to the dump. She was real happy and offered to let me keep my horse there after I bought one. The next project was to build a sweat lodge next to Donovan Creek. The ranch had a real dense stand of lodge pole up on the ridge so we took the pickup up there to cut lodge poles. The stand was so dense you could hardly walk through it. the lodge pole were about 4" dia. and 20 ft high --perfect. We cut them at the ground and limbed them with an axe. soon we were dragging a whole mess of poles back to the creek. We formed them into a low tepee and started throwing on tarps and canvas cloth until the lodge was sealed tight. A bon fire was heating the river rocks while we built the sweat lodge. finally we all stripped and carried the hot rocks into the pit at the center of the tepee. then the leader started pouring ladles of water from a bucket onto the rocks. It was like hitting 20 naked people with a baseball bat we all headed for the deck. the heat was so intense no one could breath unless their nose was inches from the grass on the floor. Finally everyone just exploded out of the sweat lodge and headed for the cold mountain waters of Donovan creek. The rest of the day was in and out of the sweat lodge, the creek and laying in the grass. to be continued.

My personality is just one of those of deprivation and excess weather it is socializing, partying, drinking, eating, exercise, sleep, reading, writing, energy, spending money, depression, etc. I think it is natural though, I used to desire evenness balance in my life, but this is a different kind of balance. Obviously right now I am going out a lot and kind of having the roommate friend experience with B even though I would be happy just being here and not going out, the number of minds present naturally inspires activity. It seems all I want to do now is be in the world at night, I can;t get to sleep early I want the night sky the humid air which smells of fresh dirt and mist, it is truly glorious. I feel security in watch others as always, and looking at this life here always inspires new direction a new life that is possible a simplicity that can be grasped completely replicated perhaps something one could create if desired. Just that idea puts my mind at ease. How does one reach adulthood when they were left out in the trenches of worryless wonder and carefreeness intended to inspire but which in turn entraps one in confusion and looming pressure to decide to grow up to jump into a life you may not want. It takes a huge leap and unless gripped by passion grandeur confidence and direction then it just seems like a waste. It doesn't have to be like this, but it will work out because I missed a part of life that was important, I missed the reality of lives being lived of how people choose to exist, being normal. There is still joy in doing nothing productive for oneself or their life, but simply engaging in society as an insignificant part. I feel so satisfied in rejecting purpose right now, perhaps this is the wrong decision because before I came I was going in the entirely other direction, but I just want to develop as a human being and let myself out of the “Boulder bubble” it is not a consequence of the town it is something people who live there put themselves in and I am done with it. With that I am just going to live where ever makes sense Broomfield, Denver, Boulder I am going to work somewhere and make new friends and let the throws of excess and deprivation flow over me, let the seasons run through me, be exactly the way I want to be and breath deeply each day.

Here in Canada things are well, maybe I'll try this random sex thing, or try shooting something, we'll see.


<3

It kind of stings when I country doesn't approve of your decisions. I almost didn't get into Canada because they didn't think should be visiting Brian David. They were like no that doesn't make sense... First there was this bitter old native American looking customs guy, he spoke softly and I couldn't really understand him he was just rude and I guess I didn't impress him because he fucking sent me to immigration there I talked to a girl which was easier and she freaking gave me the third degree. Asked me at least 50 questions, she apparently someone whom you knew for four months when they visited two years ago is not enough for you to visit them for 2 months, they also really wanted to know what I was doing here and I failed to think up good answers like hey that stampede thing... she's like yeah that's in July what are you doing until then and I had nothing granted this was at 3 pm I had been up since 5 had a terrible pre boarding experience that I can't even get into and I hadn't had time to get anything eat all day so I was being grilled while Brian and his brother are waiting for me and I'm ready to pass out. She is finally satisfied after I try not to lie toooo much (honestly the truth would have been really complicated so I was forced to lie a bit rather than gleam my life story which she probably couldn't comprehend as truth anyway) Then after I get my luggage which is waiting for me since everyone else on the flight had gone there was another woman who had to check my papers again and she questioned me again, asking if I was staying with family and I said said no but they are really close friends. Fuck, apparently you can't be young and reckless anymore.

Anyway it is interesting in Calgary there is a lot of country music and I'm staying in the country more or less, I'm not going to describe how it effects my psyche but there is a new kind of freedom in there. Everyone I have met has been really nice (save the customs people). I'm pretty sure in all areas tha I don't fit in and maybe it is childish desire for the mainstream the ordinariness which is lacking in Boulder and where it is has a looming grotesqueness that is hard to avoid. IT's as if there they are faking it while here there is a naïve purity about it.

I am still convinced of and obsessed with the confusion surrounding life, it is like I don't quite have the mental capacity to process it, not that it is complicated you know the answer might very well be 42 or something simple but I need more ram o a faster processor maybe if I were a Mac it would work out, clearly I am an old clunkier model. For the moment I am going to try push ups, that may help?

My parents seem to be nostalgic about me going to Calgary, I like their stories so I'll share.

my dad wrote I always have fond feeling towards Calgary because Ian Tyson has a horse ranch north of Calgary.  He sings cowboy songs now but used to be part of  Ian and Silvia  who wrote and sang a lot of  songs together like "Early Morning Rain" and "Someday Soon".  They were popular when I was a ski bum in Aspen.  Me and two friends drove from Aspen to Denver to hear them sing in Concert. one of the people I drove over with was a big Canadien guy who was skiing in Aspen.  For money he used to buy old trucks in Colorado--I mean really old trucks 1948 ford pickups or 1952 Chevy pickups.  Fix them up a little and then drive them back to Canada to sell.  He could get $1200 for a $400 truck that he bought here in Aspen or Glenwood Springs in Calgary or Edmonton.  He would drive them up and sell them then hitch-hike back to Aspen.  The $800 would do him fine in "The Dorm" where we all lived for several months.  He had a girlfriend who was a waitress and brought him back half eaten steaks every night so he never needed to buy food.  He would just buy dope and ski then, buy another old truck and head back to Canada. Ski tickets were only $6.50 in Aspen but nobody would buy them.  We all would just sleep in til 11 then walk over with our skiis to the parking lot.  The tourist from Texas would all be tired by 11 and we would ask them for there tickets-If they were done. I also went to the concert with a girl named Kathy who was in Aspen recouperating from a car accident.  Her face was slightly scarred but she liked to ski and worked as a waitress in the Swiss Chalet.  I could not get Jennifer Bates to come with me although she liked Ian And Sylvia . She lived in the  room next to Kathy but was a nice English girl and would just drink tea and never skied.  We would sit in the dorm and talk about Scotland and England. It was 1967 and neither of us had met Charlie or visited Boulder much.  We were in love with Aspen.  Anyway, I digress, you should remember Ian and Sylvia, they were singing on the tape recorder the day you were born.  The Doctor at Saint Mary's Hospital in  Grand Junction had asked us to bring some  music tapes  we like to  play while you were being born. It would be soothing during the stressful period.  He had never heard Ian and Sylvia before but he liked them.  Think back I bet you  remember them  playing.  Anyway if you run into Ian on his horse ranch or in your travels around Calgary you can tell him he was singing when you were born.

Hey, maybe if they made deodorant that self warmed instead of being all cold I'd like it more, and why don;t they make good scents? Just a thought.

I whisper in your ear with the gentleness of a child, you don't hear because you are simply feeling he warmth and the slight wind within the subtle vibrations but you understand. It is like a kiss but even more delicate and it is returned with a smile. Like forehead kisses from butterflies I melt for the affection that doesn't tear into one's soul but just falls in though the gaping hole everyone else seems to avoid.

I am a fan of Rev. Jeremiah Wright, maybe he is being an ass during Obama's campaign, which is obviously something I care a lot about, but then again Obama can now come out...Wright is wrong and I'm angered and saddened yada yada so maybe we can move on within the campaign, but it also saddens me that this is his stance.

 

Forgetting about Obama for a moment, Rev Wright isn't being particularly inflammatory, he is being a black pastor and sure the AIDs thing is weird, he may have been overbearing and ridiculous and enforcing this caricature of him. However, he is voicing a wound and a division in America that is completely ignored, and then when it comes up there is outrage. This is pretty sad, and reminds us that race and religion are huge areas of division and hatred in this country. How can we as a nation move on to issues of the environment, the economy, heath care, or simply improving the human race, if we ignore the anger of age old wounds and pretend that ignoring them will get rid of them. For a time this has been important, to allow the past to become so, but now it is time to let the past die for the sake of our children. We need to collectively acknowledge and allow the anger to pass through us and to stop picking at old scabs and actually let them heal. It is the leadership, the media, the intellectuals, the educated, the government and the schools that need to start creating change in this way. The country is basically saying sure, we are ready for a black president as long as he doesn't go to a black church or show a black identity, you must be fully “American” to be patriotic. Wrights view isn't fully true, the man comes across quite green, and I don't agree with him on many things, surely my perspective is vastly different, but his is immensely valuable at this time and place.

 

Coming back to Obama, I want him to win and I want him to embrace and acknowledge Rev Wright more than he has today. Obama went to his church for 20 years, and now he's saying this is a different man than the one I knew, this is silly, it is a contradiction. He is being forced, or perhaps in his own heart feels like abandoning this perspective and moving on and that this is the right thing to do, but if he doesn't win the nomination, and it is over this of all things, race relations in this country is going to move backwards or at least be uncovered as the painful state it may already be in. Which would be pretty tragic in my opinion.

So I was just sitting, watching, a beautiful house on Spruce. It is dark sky blue with brick down the side, a steep roof, and little construction workers (or perhaps big one's that looked little from my spot across the street). I like construction workers, I like the smell of construction sites, and I like the houses.


I was thinking about having a lot of money and that I could buy a huge plot of land with a tiny little house and do construction on it, endlessly. It would be very wasteful which is certainly the down side to this scheme, but it would give a lot of work to people. I could pay well and bring drinks to them and talk to them about their life and work, I could get them to let me help when I felt like it and learn lots of new things. We could be innovative and try out new products or techniques I could let new designers in and let them try their hand at the craft, we could create a beautiful functional, ever growing and changing space, always fresh and renewed, creative and practical. Eventually it would get too big for just me and my dog and cat , so we would start something with all these men and women, perhaps a school for learning the trade, the intricacies of house design from the inside and out.

I love how these workers over there all have a task, they have tape measures and hammers. The sounds are beautiful, but what I like most is their perspective, not of this home, but of this artifact. Climbing in and out of windows up the roof out the doors throwing away debris, bringing in lumber and materials, it is not living quarters to be bought and sold to families. It was something constructed, it can be taken down, changed, built up. It is as such, just land with looming constructs.


Anyway, we could start a school maybe for troubled youth and teach them these trades which take precision, math, honesty, timeliness, strength, creativity, dedication, and skill, in short, everything a person needs in this world. Eventually it would get so big that the school would expand maybe for gifted and troubled youth, either/or, or a combination of both. We'd grow and learn together and build and tear down and demolish and create. By the time I was old maybe just a house would be left, but it would be the best house I can imagine.

I hate April...  least favorite month by far. First of all, as I have said, it is a tease. Certainly considered spring, but not in the fuzzy bunny blooming flower kind of way, it is a violent struggle, windy and powerful, pushing in summer while winter holds on. You can die in the violence of the spring. One day it is 80 then the next day we get four inches of snow and this wouldn't be so bad if, first of all, I wasn't utterly sick of the snow, but mostly if this bipolar pattern didn't resonate within me in some kind of emotional hell. I don't really get seasonal affect disorder because once it is winter, I get it, I enjoy it, but this is just chaos. Last April I had a really cruel and violent breakup with my friend, it was one of the worst emotional experiences of my life in a lot of ways. This April has been filled with Lance's death, by far the most difficult loss I have had to deal with... it is really hard to describe to people who didn't know him but he was a true bodhisattva. I finally feel at peace with this and can now look back and smile with the gifts he gave. His smile was special, and he never got angry because he had this expansive patience for all people he met, and he treated all of them with respect. He just never left anyone behind, let no one fall through the cracks. He taught severe needs children in middle school, but his class was not only filled with severely disabled students they gave him any student at that school who needed a Lance, because he was like no other teacher, he knew every child could learn and every child could over come their problems. His humility, compassion and pure passion for life filled us all with strength and that is what was amazing. I have learned so much in the last 7 years and one of those things is the passion for understanding people who seem dumb or wrong, religious people, un-academic people, mean angry people, homeless people, even just generic people. I found it in me to have a desire to understand where they are coming from, to accept and engage in their language, be it about god and accepting Jesus in their life, to telling me they are libertarian ( : Some people's pessimism seems so clearly justifiable and yet I look at Lance and his idealism and I make that same choice, to believe in the potential of all people. Not to hide in individualism or monkdom like many try. I feel reaffirmed in that now, I feel his strength more than ever. He also found his soul mate and like she said she is not an unfortunate woman, their love for one another and their reverent respect for one another was so pervasive in their every interaction. Few find that  and she was blessed. Some might say it was luck, but I know that it wasn't just luck, it was Lance and Jamie, and the way they lived moment to moment; of course they found each other. You can't settle for someone who doesn't respect themselves or others, you can love them and give them support, but long lasting relationships demand respect. You can watch couples for five minuets and know if they are not going to make it, just look for any sign of contempt. Ultimately you have to look up to one another, someone who makes you a better you, just by being themselves. It is beautiful to see. That is another thing about Lance he treated everyone like they were the person they wanted to be, he lead by example and more than telling someone to be a certain way ever can ever effect someone, he inspired those around him to be the best selves they can be. I remember feeling this way on so many occasions. I wish I had more chances to talk to him but I have to let that go now, I still get to know his kids and see them grow into amazing people in the face of everything, because that is what their father taught them.

This is the saddest thing I can remember reading.. Lance's mother after the memorial said "He was a good son, but I didn't realize he was so great." Wow, how sad.  At the memorial the one person who was speaking and just compleatly broke down and couldn't do it, wasn't his wife trying to speak with a new titanium jaw and face, nor his remarkable children, but it was Lance's brother who you could just tell hadn't been as close to his brother as he now wishes. Jamies brother was more of a borhter to Lance his words were the most powerful and inspiring words of the day, sent chills down my spine, He is remarkable ( : 

Show your love to people every day as though it were your last chance.

 

 

Some random thoughts:

I'm leaving in three weeks I am so nervous because I'm not sure it will work out, I don't have enough time, and there is the looming thought of when I get back... I need a job but I only will have a month until burning man and my brother wants me to live with him in Broomfield. He didn't get the house near my good friend and I hate Broomfield and I don't enjoy his girlfriend and I'm not sure how I feel about living in someone else's house. I like my own place... he is already asking me which bedroom I want ) : I hope it all works out. I think it will not sure I believe that thought though!

I think I want to go to UNC. What to study though?

I always eat oatmeal for breakfast, I like hot food. This morning I added a table spoon of chocolate protein powder. I knew it would go one of two ways but it was pretty amazing. ( :

I am really quite upset. I just wanted to write something in memory of one of the most inspiring people I have ever met. Sunday Lance Melting died in a car accident. http://cbs4denver.com/local/interstate.70.accident.2.689717.html

He basically started My Kung Fu school by getting Shifu to start a class 13 years ago. he was an amazing father to 4 young kids his oldest Aaron is turning 13 this Saturday, he shared a Birthday with his father. Lance and his wife are both teachers, he taught special ed in Longmount. I can’t imagine a better teacher, father, husband or person. He inspired me so much and countless others. They were on thier way to Disney Land when a semi jacknifed in the snow killing him instantly, miraculously all of his children were okay and his wife while still in ICU is going to make it. I cant imagine a worse tragedy.

The last time I saw Lance was two weeks ago at the county convention I can still feel his hand on my shoulder...

It is truly a cruel world when one gets the stomach flu on the first day of one's period. On Thursday I awoke with a very uncomfortable bloating feeling and stomach craps that just would not quit needless to say my plans of moving failed but I did have to baby sit which was the worst experience baby sitting not only because I had a terrible stomach ache which I still foolishly attributed to that feminine delight but the kids were particularly un-pleasent in so much as they wanted their mom and when she left and the baby woke up crying all I heard was screaming for a half hour until I called their mom and asked for a hasty return. Once I got home, things got worse I was supposed to work at IL on Friday just for the day of course I canceled around 10 that night as even though I prayed things would be all better by morning the night was spent sleepless with me moaning and screaming in pain, although my roommate probably thought I was just having a good time masturbating too much seeing as how he never asked if I was sick or anything. Anyway today was pretty sucky too. There is nothing quite as tortuous as having to go to the doctor when you are sick people look at you as though they don't realize that this is a doctors office and they ask if you are okay as though maybe you should go see the DOCTOR! Especially since my doctor for some reason is a family practitioner meaning she mostly sees families of small children who annoyingly littered the waiting room,as one woman with baby noted on the elevator “well you look mighty serious” I assume she was addressing me though she said it in a fucking baby voice and I scoffed off to the Lab for more fun. It took two painful hours and I she wanted a freaking stool ample which is really quite disgusting and cruel making someone play with their shit while in pain and quite nauseous. I mean it is stupid to go to the doctor just to aid in ones justification for being sick, but I placated my mothers worry so at least there is that. I took some probiotics which helped alleviate the stomach cramps but my head feels like it is about to implode and my insides feel like they have been shaken loose shredded and are just sloshing around inside of me with random jolts of pain. Anyway, I love writing tales of woe. I have to get up at 7 and move. Yay! I can only imagine what joys tomorrow will bestow.

Walking down east Arapahoe into the sunset, jr bacon cheese burger and a six pack of cider in hand. So many lives to live. That was fun, me and Heather are fun people.

I painted lots of pink and polkadots Friday!

I am moving out of my apartment now. I like being alone, this is going to be hard.

My brother is looking to buy a house in Broomfield, he said he was going to make sure there are 4 bedrooms so I can stay with him if I want, that is kind of sweet. It is like we want to know each other but we just look at each other and see nothing human staring back. I don't think I would really enjoy living with him and Kim (who is Hillary delegate and mighty irritating). So I don;t think I will. Wow, I guess I'm a failure sister though, I have 20 months to get a good Job, a long-term girlfriend/boyfriend, and buy a house... at least I'm happy.

I can't wait to move to Calgary, that will be so nice, I need to escape, that's how I feel about it. I am going to escape to someone who wants to enter back in, run back to Boulder, to the people and excitement and all I want to do is go live in the country, and not even my own.

I got a ticket to Toast, but My car is lookin' kind of bad, I'd at least need to replace the windshield to drive to AZ and it might not get there plus the 200 dollars in gas, but then I looked at tickets to Calgary and the cheapest one is 389 but to fly from Denver to Phoenix to Calgary and back to Denver is 375, but then I'm stuck with no way to get to toast, no tent and I have to bum around in Phoenix for a few days. And I probably wont be able to bring a lot of burning man clothes ) : I suppose one can always rent things from walmart, although that is a bad thing to do and I could find a ride I am sure and a hotel would coast as much as gas but save my car... blah. Maybe I'll just keep the ticket and say I went. Maybe I can bring it to Apogea and say “shit, you mean this is the wrong burn! So.. .can I get in?

I hate deciding what to do I never know if it is right or not. Maybe I am just really selfish, and if I wasn't this would be easier.

My dad got tickets to see the Flames Avalanche game on Monday, I am excited since I've never seen a real hockey game before!

I love Anderson Cooper, and CNN because they have Anderson Cooper, he is what a good journalist should be.

Also give it up to Ze Frank who is awesome and started color wars on twitter http://colorwar2008.com/

People can be so amazing. You are so amazing.