When there is a lot of external static in life that's distracting me from keeping my sanity, I like to imagine I'm inside a Sigur Ros album. Currently listening to ()- look, I know they're probably heavily strung out on some mind-altering narcotic and that they're speaking in a completely fabricated language. I don't care. It's like Teletubbies for adults, and I am all for it. I saw them live many years ago- it was an excellent show, it redefined trippy.
Since I'm on the subject of shows, I'm vexed that Apple's adverts have seeped into my grey matter- I've had Feel Good Inc bobbing around in my head for the last two days. However, I have a theory that this is some spillover effect from the ghost of Kid Koala's participation in the latest Gorillaz opus. KK opened for a Radiohead show I saw in NJ. KK broke my brain. I never fully appreciated DJs until I saw him at work.
Recently, I have noticed that this blog keeps me honest. I don't necessarily think of an audience when I'm writing this nonsense, but the act of writing some things down is a pact, a commitment of sorts. To myself, if not to anyone else. So here it is again- I'm throwing down another gauntlet. Tomorrow I'm going on my first solo trek. Okay, hike, not trek. It's about 7 miles. If there's one thing I really resent about being an XX, it's that I find myself hesitating before deciding to do things on my own. Truthfully, I'm one of these weirdoes that really enjoys spending time to myself. It may be because I'm scatterbrained, and the time I have alone is the only time I really make sense of things.
Of course, there are plenty of things that can be done solo regardless of the absence or presence of that pesky Y chromosome. But things like a hike in the wilderness set off the uh-oh feeling in me. When I was younger, I was so headstrong that I thought it really didn't matter- the time, the place, none of it. But a few encounters that were less than optimal, and I learned to develop some taste for self-preservation. It's funny though. When I hike with other people, I'm wary of mountain lions, or snakes, or falling into a crevasse, but never of other hikers. But when I consider hiking by myself, the only thing that concerns me at all is encountering some shady dude. Still, I think I've chosen a trail that's pretty open and gets good foot traffic. I need to break in my new hiking boots, and if that means I have to kick someone with them, so be it. Ah, fond memories of self-defense class...
Thank you one and all for suggestions about Inca trail preparedness. I will continue to solicit them in the coming weeks, as my stress level exponentially hyperboles near the date of my departure. As a result of your awesome tips and comments, I've started to ponder truly ridiculous things about my trip, like- hmmm, they have lots of internet cafes in Cusco, but if I take time to post, can I keep blogging on the down low from my travel companions? The prospect of four days of hiking at high altitudes looms, and this is how I'm using brain space.
Hopefully come Monday, I'll have some interesting Bay to Breakers shots in the camera. This race is so very San Francisco, I just lurve it. Want highlights? At the start of the race, it is customary to throw tortillas in the air. Even if it is raining. I've actually been clocked by a tortilla, and let me tell you, it can knock the wind out of you if it has enough momentum. A significant portion of the participants are in costumes, my favorite being the yearly group who dress like salmon, and run the entire race backward. Also, an even greater portion of the participants are not sober, a state that is helpfully maintained by the various kegs that are being carted along the race course. I've done this race before I moved to San Francisco, and it was one of the many things that made me swoon for this place. Coming here has spoiled me in that sense. I've started to believe anything is possible, if I want it badly enough.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment