Next Full Moon

Sunday, May 3rd Full Flower Moon

16 February 2014

Privatize it!

I can't be faded. I'm a nigga from the muthafucking street?

 Anybody who doesn't love the Nate D-O-double G is a body whose mind is confused.

The Full Skip Valentine's Moon offered a range of environs, straight from the street headed for naps in the dirt. Maybe it was the contrast from harsh artificial light bounced back from concrete or perhaps it was just the clarity of the Real real thing, but the section atop the ridge was some soft, 1930's black and white vampire movie type dappled moon and shadows romance with the trails. Singletrack through the moonlight? As much as possible, yes.

As always, there is a lot to be said for Willing. Thanks, homie MS, for being willing to leave the lights off and let the front end ride- antennae up and assimilating all sensory input with singular focus. All of us have that original human awareness to tap into our surroundings, it's just most of us cast it aside in favor of some constant contact with this make-believe-it's realer-than-real virtual satisfaction (you can keep it in your pocket! hold it in your hand!).

Sssssslow going meant the burrito joints were closed by the time we rolled thru Cside(!), so we stopped at the Safeway where Y____ bailed in a taxi that one time. Taking turns loitering outside to keep a watch on the bikes, we did a little shopping for late night dinner making options.

Our plans to go ride more became our plans to stand around the stove and drink beers. No big whoop. Those veggie kielbasas were fu_king delicious. I also confess to being so far gone as to find those Doritos rolled up wickedness to being amAZING.

Dudes in hammocks.

Compare and contrast.

That's morning in the woods.

We opted to stash our gear at the campsite and roll around the trails in the daylight for a bit.

...until it was time to begin the tired slog in to town and work.

I had budgeted a good while to make sure I got to work in time to shower off the camp smell, and we ended up having plenty of time to decide we were hungry, consider hitting up a taqueria, reconsider in light of our moral and financial insolvency plus the fact that we were still in possession of some fine vittles, and settle on the plan to post up by the rec trail like the dirty hobos we are and just live where we were...

Some degenerate had put this little love nest together...

with class. Synthetic rose petals and everything. It was a fitting site for hobo lunch.

A passing family would not let their children approach us. Closer than close.

Probably for the best.