I've changed my mind again.
When Axis/Rob asked (I think it was him) how I want to die, I thought, gloriously and swiftly, hurled from a mountain for one last rush of wind... One last push of adrenaline...
Then I saw "Dead Man". (thank you Lucky, Thank you....)
"Nobody, I don't smoke."
How's that for the last words of William Blake who writes poetry with the blood of other men.
Once again I crave a glimpse through the eyes of William Blake, either one - this time... Feeling the swell of the ocean beneath me, watching the aging of tides as they push me towards "where the spirits come from."
Jim, that view of the rapids increasing around the canoe, watching the sea grow as Blake's life waned... That final majestic image stopped my breathing until I had to remember about autonomic functions'n'things.
Wow...
Somehow, city girl and all, I never gasp like this unless it's a feat of nature. I'm not sure if it's the speed of skiing that thrills me or the mountains themselves... I know that in the motocross videos it's as much (if not more) the deserts as the heroic feats of that guy with the staples in his head. (Seth somefin')
Welp, looks like I just justified me a car. So who's coming with me for a picnic a hundred miles from nowhere?
Bring your biggest boots. I'm leaving town.
I just don't know when. But soon. For this weekend, it'll have to be Mount Royal, but it's almost a mountain, and if you try, you can be lost.
And ford knows I can be trying... ;)