8:53am (Overgard, AZ) :: Right now I'm sitting in this ridiculously-large coffee shop on Highway 260 just east of Heber. I realized right when I started typing that it is indeed my birthday, and I am now officially 23 years old. How odd. But a good way to start a new year of promises and possibilities. I woke up at about 4:15 this morning in the blackest sort of night and colder than I had been in a while. I had decided last night, while still pretty warm, that I should take off my jeans to get more comfortable. This was a bad idea because the temperature hovered around 30 where I was. It was nice though, the Sierra Acosta, or something like that, next to unnamed creek lined with campsites and Arizona pines. I was hoping to see some elk or other animals hanging around my car, but I only saw a solitary turkey while driving in the higher mountains. Hopefully I'll see more, but not bears, no bears allowed, like the sign says. Great pictures too, but what can you expect in Arizona's high country. Nothing is ugly here, even the landfills retain a certain obscure beauty when shrouded in the dewey haze of the early morning. I think I like it because the beauty is so genuinely non-human, even when humans are responsible for it, nature makes it her own here. Thin the forests, nature adds new and wonderful plants to the mix. Build a cabin, nature covers it with pine needles and hides it with shrubs.
This Arizona seems to be obsessed with the black bear, and rightly so. The animal dominates the traditional folklore and dogma of White migrants, and it seems to proliferate the culture here today through cheap, tacky nick-nacks and the names of gas stations. Campgrounds are not named after bears because who would want to camp in a place named after a vicious animal. Would you surf or swim at "Shark Beach?" No, they're all marketing ploys. If the campground is on Bear Creek, name it after John Muir or Edward Abbey or some worthless old forest ranger, but for shit's sake, don't put "bear" in the name.
So I was walking up the hill alongside the creek this morning and for whatever reason, I couldn't stop thinking about my web sites. Why is it that web sites become like children, and once we are away from them, we worry and think about their futures? The future for the silly little tract cabin development of Bison Ranch is bleak I believe. Who can afford a second house these days? And if you can, why not spend that money on something much more worthwhile. If you want to get out of town for the weekend, stay at a hotel. Longer? Camp. Or rent a cabin, but for shit's sake, don't buy a new house. Maybe I should just move to a trailer. But a lot right on the interstate Downtown and put up a 10-foot electrified fence, lined with chollas and big-ass lolli-pops (to entice the kids, because they have to learn at some point). I really don't want to rent, but I have little choice. I don't think you can buy a delicious 8th-floor condo at Redondo Tower, although I may be incorrect in my assumptions.
Shit, I'm already achin' for lunch, and here it is only 9am. I figure I'll eat at 11. Find some fast food place to crash at for a couple of hours in Show Low (what a fucked-up town name).
leave me here to my devices
No, hold on...okay, yeah, sorry.
From what I can recall, I feel much more comfortable in Arizona than I did in Texas. There's less pressure to feel but yet more things to see. if that makes sense. I don't worry about gas, sleeping, eating or even travelling (after all, it's not that far and I could turn back in a split second at any time). Reaching into the bowels of Arizona's pinelands and pulling out a stock of what remains to be settled between nature and man. Through the haze of pine-built cabins, trailer parks and bear-themed souvernirs there is the sense of wild, untamed life; beautiful in and amongst itself, and only accented by the more tangible natural aspects surrounding it. THIS is what Arizona is, or at least what it means to me. Those tree-lined slopes, rocky, snaking desert washes, and inpenetrable one-lane suicide roads through the forests ending at pointed vistas overlooking the sprawling metropolis, twinkling yellow with the sighs and conversations of the denizens within. Words encompass the feelings and visions for me, but don't truly reveal anything, and I think that in itself makes it all the more beautiful.
So I need to soak up time I think right now, although I could leave. Actually, I think I will leave.

living in a hotel, but i'm not traveling

11:02am (Show Low) :: Arby's has some real good food. I had a breakfast burrito and it was just killer...KILLER I said. I think it's time for a dessert, but not just yet. Oh, no no. I just feel like I need some sugar at this point in my life, some sweetness for my salty life. Damn, that's stupid.
There's a Big K behind me, and that makes me wonder whether or not there is a Wal-Mart here. Someone needs to publish a guide to Wal-Marts. They're so interesting; thriving on the modern middle class's lack of brand loyalty and respect for quality. Price is the P that matters, and Wal-Mart seems to have that covered. I'm not one to talk, I shop at Wal-Mart quite a bit, but there's little choice in many situations. Where else would you go if you wanted to buy a pot, or a bowl, or a plunger, or a dishrag? Target or Wal-Mart (or Big K when applicable). The stores which sold these items ten years ago are gone, driven off main street to the malls, and then driven out of there by revitalization efforts and cliquish clothing stores. I'd like to see a town with a Woolworth's that's not abandoned. I guess when your retail establishment becomes a living pop-culture joke then you're more or less through.
I'd also like to see a resurgence of Billy Idol. He had a Behind the Music about 3 years ago and I haven't seen him since then. He looked pretty good for his age, which is surprising when you consider how much coke when up his nose. Now, Billy Idol defined "pop punk." You do a song like "Rebel Yell" and put it on the same album with a cover of "Money Money" or that other bullshit ballad he did, "Eyes without a face" or something, and that's pop bullshit inside a punk body. But that's besides the point. Let's rake all of those 80's pop stars out of the collective heroin-filled gutter and shove them on stage, hairy beer bellies and all. They can do a concert for middle-aged secretaries and nurses, who will in turn drag their "I'm still a rocker" husbands along. Now that's an advertiser'ss dream. You could line up Harley-Davidson, a personals web site and a diet pill for sponsorship almost immediately.
Speaking of advertising, there's this Hummer commercial that reminds me of those Old Navy ads. This model is in the driver's seat of a Hummer, and out of nowhere comes Regis Feldman with a shrimp cocktail in hand. Then she says to him: "I love off-roading." What the fuck is that all about? That makes less sense to me than the Old Navy ads, and I actually know who the star power is in this one (George Jefferson excluded, of course).
This chocolate shake is too damn sweet and too cold, and I think I should demand a refund.

9:22pm :: What was that you tried to say?
Si hay cobre en el ambiente, personas tienen una tendencia a alucianar. Ellos miran los apariciones: cosas que no las estan en la verdad.
That's bad Spanish, but I wanted to write it. I've been thinking about Globe recently. I've been thinking about my 'Planet Caravan' video also, and I wasn't able to find anything about on the Discovery Channel web site. I'll find out about it eventually.
Tucson shimmers, ever so slightly, with the lights and sounds of a city.

Okay, so I can't find anything about it. I'll post something about it, maybe tomorrow. I've started reading again, and I think that this helps add to my desire to write. Although, mainly me not writing here has to do with the new web design job. I type and code all day, so why would I want to do it here? To get my story out? No way.
Anyway, tomorrow I leave for the White Mountains, and Saturday I turn 23, after claiming to be 23 for several weeks now. I guess I have this constant desire to be older, just because people keep thinking that I really am older. I said today "I think you're assuming I'm older than I really am" without revealing my age. People would be surprised, and would probably think less of me, but not to the extent that I believe I think.
Whatever, I need to go to bed. I think I should get up real fucking early.

5:37pm :: Bad omens, all around. First the phone was late, now the cable is late because the guy couldn't get into the building. Go Cox! Also I picked the weekend when one of the two elevators in the building broke down to move, so I had to explain to quite a few people why I was holding up the only elevator for 2-3 minutes at a time. I did pretty well in the move. Not much stuff at all, I was right. I kept the U-Haul for about 4 hours. Not really worth my money. I guess I could have taken it to the casino, but then that would have meant like 6 more miles I would have had to pay for. My apartment looks awesome now. I need a CD rack, small table for one of my speakers, couch/futon, and a table and another chair for the patio. Also: pull-up bar and like 100 cacti and misc. succulents to decorate the patio. Next week, I'm going to this art fair at the nearby iglesia catolica to get some interior design ideas. We'll have to see. Not really a good weekend for outdoor activities, although I did go for a bike ride through Downtown and Armory Park. Now that's fun shit. Altogether, everything has been very exhausing, but I got more accomplished than I could ever think possible for a Sunday, especially a revered Christian holiday where almost all of the stores close down. Fuck those stores though. It would be great to release like 1,000 rabits inside a Target or a Wal-Mart. Would they try to run back towards me? I think so, and I don't think it would work. Besides spending the majority of my tax return and paycheck on moving/decorating expenses, I'm also renting a car in Houston. That'll be fun, but not cheap. Fuck it though. I need that gas-powered fucker in the Bayou City. They'll probably give me some god damn Escort that I can't put over 70 though. How about just a hot dog? I think I should bring some Wienerschnitzel with me on the plane, maybe to give to my step-mom. "Here ya go, I know I missed your birthday."
A dark cloud looms over the south side of the city. I guess that kind of says something. Sure, the south side sucks, but it has its charms...I guess. So now that I have this money, and the potential to earn a lot more, I've become some kind of good capitalist, spending lots of money even when unnecessary. I bought a 12-pack of Dr. Pepper today even though I had half a bottle of Sprite in the fridge at home. What the fuck is up with that? 2 months ago I would have never done that. I would have waited until the last drop of Sprite, no matter how flat, had been inhaled and greased over by my saliva. Then, and only then, would I have driven to Albertson's and bought a new, reasonably-priced bottle of soda. SODA. How cool is that?
Time to eat.

6:03pm :: So it's almost closing time for US West and my god damned phone is still off. I guess I can't complain, I used to bitch about people calling in because their service wasn't active yet. We all need an excuse to bitch though, even if there is little justification.

6:35pm :: Damn. Some sort of serious line issue, no dial tone until tomorrow afternoon. All this obsession over a phone is stupid anyway. So the bad wine flows and the supermarket of used cars remains open and advertising. My patio door is open, the sun has set, and A Mountains stares me straight in the face, laughing. I don't want to write, I just wanted to post that picture.

8:53pm :: Right now, I have the burning desire to go take a picture which I will use for this, but first I have to vent some things.
I've noticed in the past two or so years, the proliferation of personals sites into the web mainstream. We see it on our Yahoo! mail accounts incessantly, almost taunting those of us who are, or choose to remain single, to come join the virtual, unfulfilling party. I think personals sites are sad. Why? Because we consider them to be a step-up from the personals in newspapers, but...THEY'RE THE SAME FUCKING THING. If you post an ad in these online personals, do not consider yourself any better than the losers in the newspapers, droning on about sunsets and walks on the fucking beach.

damn it.

9:35pm :: So I took my picture, and it turned out well, but I realized while driving back that I had put the USB chord that my camera uses to connect to my computer in a bag which is now ini the storage space. Damn it. oh well. Enough of this shit anyways.

10:28pm :: ...And the moment approaches quickly, when words spur the mind to a climax but fail to materialize through breaths and other more miscellaneous vocal manifestations.
Black and white are upsetting and intriguing to us because they both represent death: first a brilliant white, than an immense black. The colors in between represent life, no matter how vivid or unimaginative, they represent movement and an approachably-emotional existence.
Whatever that means.
I am greatly enjoying having money. So many possibilities, so many strange weekend getaways and things to buy. Enough bragging and boasting though.
I may leave for San Diego next weekend, but I will definitely go to Mount Lemmon tomorrow. Walking down Ina to get a pizza today, I was pleasantly surprised to see a speckled white in the hazy Catalinas: there is still snow. Considering that it's been in the 90's for the past 2 weeks, this is amazing, but it may be fresh, which is even better.
The over-developed urbanesque northeast Sonora is surprisingly cold tonight, under a thin blanket of much-appreciated drizzle. I sit in my ridiculously-hot hotel room, pondering why the movies on HBO are all so awful and why someone would pay money for these channels. There is no use in attempting to rationalize it! No! I am far too stubborn to be swayed by arguments supporting pay tv. They should really create something like PBS, but as a pay or cable channel. Yeah, they would need to keep it commercial-free, but I would pay for it, as long as they cut out that "Sit and Be Fit" shit and especially those fucking fundraisers, which would of course would be eliminated by PBS suddenly having a large influx of cash from devoted viewers, which would facilitate the development of even better shows, and more objective newscasts, absolutely independent from any influence. Could America handle truly-objective journalism? I don't think so. We're far too comfortable with Dan Rather, AT&T and Wal-Mart waiving the flag in our face, showing images of press conferences where decisions are rationalized through angled background text printed on the wall behind whoever may be tied to the puppeteer's strings at the moment. Cynical? Of course I'm fucking cynical. How could you not be after watching this shit every day and knowing that it is actually getting through to some people? It's all just furthering the revolution of a more complacent, compromising consumer culture. I want to stand anonymously at the center of that revolution with a propeller beanie and rainbow suspenders, griping about gas prices and terrorism through a vocabulary based on buzz words and the colloquial dialect used by MTV VJs. I would kick ass. Fuck this, I need to go to Canada.

10:54pm :: So why not put this in April? Because I don't have a fucking picture. I haven't taken a picture in like a month. How weird is that? March was messed up enough, I don't need anymore crap in April. How about just something that will let me rest my weary head on that blue pillow case and air mattress and only worry about what I'll wear tomorrow.