It's a bird, it's a plane...no really it's a plane!

So there I am, driving down the highway with nothing between me and the pavement but two small wheels and a fire breathing V-twin. I think to myself, this is what's about; no civilization in sight, just blazing down the open road. There's desert to my left and desert to my...no, no there isn't. There are cotton fields. As far as I can see there are cotton fields. Strange thing to see in the desert.

Out of the corner of my eye I see something flying. At first it looks like a circling hawk or other large bird. Quickly, I realize that it's not a bird but a plane. Cool. I think; that would be fun to do. Time seems to slow to a crawl as I am mesmerized by the plane's graceful movement through the sky; slowly turning right and then left. The plane looks awfully low. I snap out of my daze to realize that the plane is less than 100 feet off the ground, looks like smoking, and headed right toward me on the highway. For just a minute, I thought this was it; hit by a plane. At what seemed like the last minute, he banked to his left, came even lower, and a large cloud erupted from behind him. He was dusting the cotton fields. Ha-ha, false alarm. I guess this is what I get for not growing up an agricultural area. But I won't soon forget the day I almost died at the hands of a plane; or wings rather.

At the gates of...tomorrow?

When it's been a long day; no, a real f-ed up day,

It is the best feeling to know that it's not the end

Nope, the sun will rise the next day; life's not over

It may seem like things could not go worse

Like nothing else could go wrong

But it can, and probably will; just wait

But for now, I come home to the best person I know

The one that I want to share with

End my shizzy day with; and start tomorrow with

I may be a crappy best friend sometimes

But I am grateful that she is patient and tolerant

Even though the road may be rough, we can't be stopped

After all, that's why they made 4-wheel drive.

Struggling or Set?

Sometimes the most interesting person in a group is the one still trying to ‘make it’. Everyone probably knows someone like that. They are the one that works random jobs so they can focus on becoming an actor, painter, sculptor, craftsman, or musician. They pop-up from time to time, as their adventures bring them through their home towns. Never quite sure if tomorrow will bring the big break or recognition that they need.

But somehow I envy them. To have something that you enjoy and are passionate enough about that you are willing to risk everything else. Hours after hours are spent in pursuit of only becoming better at the one thing that you know you were meant to do. And the satisfaction is in what you produce. The thing that you complete is yours; it came from you. If only we all could harbor that type of enthusiasm for our ‘work’ and pleasure; to be a struggling artist.

Back on the Burro

As fate would have it, I cannot stay away from the burrito forever. I love Chipotle just as much...well maybe a little more than the next guy. I went to the grand opening of a new location in San Francisco in late June, ordered my usual (Chicken Fajita Burrito), and retired to my hotel room for what I though was another boring evening. Something was not quite right; maybe it was the chicken, poorly cooked on a busy night. But I got food poisoning. Not something that you want ever and especially when out of town. I survived but it was not pretty. Anyway, I have not been back since. Today I went back with family for lunch, ordered my usual, and...nothing. Guess I’ll just have to strike it up to bad luck.

The Wandering man walks a path, but it is not his own.
Down the road, moving; or does Earth pass underneath.
Days, weeks, months; continuous cycles of Light and Dark.
His goal, beyond the horizon; moving in tandem,
Never closer, never further apart; existing separately.

Solid rock erodes to dust; Nature controls and directs.
Nowhere to call home, no way to get back,
At the mercy of wind and the errant Traveler.

The last day closes; Sadness surrounds them.
Neither in control Nor where they wish.
Together, they give Purpose; meaning to Exist.
Their Journey not willed but a Journey the same.
No longer alone, as a pair they expire; in peace.

Oh, New Mexico

New Mexico, what do you mean to me?

I've spent many a night in your various hotels;
I've driven your roads 'til I thought I was lost.
Dust storms, flash floods, hail, sleet, and snow.
A slightly ugly desert that escaped from Mexico.
Aliens, green chile, political corruption;
nuclear science, drugs, and natural wonders.
Each time I leave, I wish it the last.
But then I come back, and it seems the same.
The 'Land of Enchantment' finally has me jaded.
But I don't think good bye is here just yet.

Time to Rest

I wait for sleep

The escape from all I know

To a place that only I can go

Free to live, Free to explore

Worlds to create, Adventures to have

Places to see, Things to do

No boundaries, No limits, No rules

No expectations, No stereotypes, No fear

Existence is the playground of the mind

Awakening brings halt to the vision

Reality and Dreams cross

Confusion, Deja Vu; the daily special

The road may bend in the Distance

But for now...I wait for sleep