“In a rather curious and confused way, some white people are starting almost to think like a minority, even like a persecuted one. What does it take to believe that Christianity is an endangered religion in America or that the name of Jesus is insufficiently spoken or appreciated? Who wakes up believing that there is no appreciation for our veterans and our armed forces and that without a noisy speech from Sarah Palin, their sacrifice would be scorned? It’s not unfair to say that such grievances are purely and simply imaginary, which in turn leads one to ask what the real ones can be. The clue, surely, is furnished by the remainder of the speeches, which deny racial feeling so monotonously and vehemently as to draw attention.”—Christopher Hitchens (via azspot)
my last class of the day ended early because of a fire alarm. and then, riding my bike home, someone at a stop light told me they loved my skirt. at an intersection, someone actually yelled “happy birthday” out her car window.
i had beer for lunch. beer that i bought. and i painted my toenails.
AND! the real celebration hasn’t even started yet.
“I was asked at lunch today who or what I worshipped. The question was asked sincerely, and in the same spirit I responded that I worshipped whatever there might be outside knowledge. I worship the void. The mystery. And the ability of our human minds to perceive an unanswerable mystery. To reduce such a thing to simplistic names is an insult to it, and to our intelligence.”—
it’s weird to be home, to not need a map, to know where i’m sleeping and it not be the ground of any town we can in wyoming. i loved it. it’s perfect for right now, for when decisions need made and i’m afraid of stagnating or becoming one thing and not one hundred others.
we’ve seen so much. proved a lot to ourselves about what we can handle, what we can meet, and how much there IS.
in a few days we saw indian reservations, desert badlands, lush coniferous forests, a piece of america where bears and bison still have first dibs on the land, and big, sprawling cities with chain restaurants, giant sky, more stars than illinois can imagine, trailer parks, log cabin mansions. we ate chips and beer for dinner. we woke up with the sun. we shared travel tales with old harley riders. we played in snow in august, smelled the sulfur of geothermal holes in the ground. we danced and kissed and climbed on the mountain that could be the end of the world as we know it. we drove the fucking beartooth. i met my fear of the interstate. i found out i have a grandfather who only buys local, seasonal fruit and is incredibly wise.
we traveled the pony express, the oregon trail, and a few indian trails, and there was a sense that other than the highway, that land looks exactly like it did when indians and pioneers were on it.
right now i feel like there’s a whole lot of things i can put my faith in; that there really is a whole world out there.