We started in Elephant Butte. There was nothing going on there. But drinking beer next to a lake. I had a bizarre experience there. Everybody began to drink beer right away, including me. Because the beer selection entailed only bud light and pabst, I was only able to finish 3 beers (barely) for the entire night. Something about bad beer makes me want to drink my own urine to wash the taste out of my mouth. I guess that’s what I get for starting my beer drinking career with beers like new castle and guiness.
While Josh and friends Judd and Raul proceeded to get a little inebriated off of terrible domestics, I was distracted with observing the human behavior and dynamic of a labor day at the lake with drunk strangers at their six-figure trailer configurations. No real epiphanies hit me that night until it was time to go to sleep, where I was cloistered in the corner of a boat on a padded bench in a winter sleeping bag that leaks down-feathers, brought to the trip by Josh.
This was the darkest night I had seen in a while. No moon. No city lights. All stars, planets, and milky way belt. I lied there in my sleeping bag, watching falling stars, all of different types and manners; some falling at light speed, some threatening to fall forever and penetrate the hull of the boat I slept on. The sky never seemed so vast, yet never seemed so close to me. The cosmos seemed to stare me in the face that night. I almost got a glimpse of God. And then I remembered how delayed I am in the development of my perceptions, along with the idea of how we, humans, another form of ants, go about our days busy as can be, forgetting about the stillness, the stoic magnitude and ordered chaos of the space above our heads that shall remain fixed and eternal in the scope of our existence, a comedic blink of God’s eye.
We started in Elephant Butte (pronounced B’YOOT). There was nothing going on there but beer-drinking next to a lake. I had a bizarre experience there. Everybody began to drink beer right away, including me. The beer selection entailed only bud light and pabst, so I was only able to finish 3 beers (barely) for the entire night. Something about bad beer makes me want to drink my own urine to wash the taste out of my mouth. I guess that’s what I get for starting my beer drinking career with beers like New Castle and Guinness.
While Josh and friends Judd and Raul proceeded to get a little inebriated off of terrible domestics, I was distracted with observing the human behavior and dynamic of Labor Day at the lake with drunk strangers and six-figure trailer configurations. No real epiphanies hit me that night until it was time to go to sleep, where I was cloistered in the corner of a boat on a padded bench in a winter sleeping bag that leaks down-feathers.
This was the darkest night I had seen in a while. No moon. No city lights. All stars, planets, and the Milky Way belt. I lied there in my sleeping bag, watching falling stars, all of different types; some falling at light speed, some threatening to fall forever and penetrate the hull of the boat I slept on. The sky never seemed so vast, yet never seemed so in-my-face. The cosmos seemed to stare me down that night. Then I remembered how delayed I am in the development of my perceptions, along with the idea of how we, humans, another form of ants, go about our days busy as can be, forgetting about the stillness, the stoic magnitude and ordered chaos of the space above our heads that shall remain fixed and eternal in the scope of our existence, a comedic blink of God’s eye.
I just blacked out while typing.
