Josh and I decided to go to Sedona today. We biked some trails where supposedly an Earth-energy-vortex is located. It is said that there is a mountain (pictured) where the temperature fluctuates and compass needles spin in confusion for whatever unknown reason.

We strapped on the Canon 7D to a helmet and got some cool shots. Unfortunately I have nothing to show for it.

After that we drove to Flagstaff to get some documentary footage of our trip with Josh’s new boom mic, which captured the attention of an elderly New York couple and three older women, also on a road trip, who expressed inuendos of loneliness and desires for its quenching.

We drove to Flagstaff, racing the sun to find some place to make some food and camp for the night.

Minutes after taking this picture, I cut my hand while trying to break apart some branches while holding a knife.

We finished our food and drove back into town, and used the bathroom in Target to fix everything. Josh got a hold of butterfly tape, peroxide, and crazy glue to close the wound. That was the first time I saw tendons moving around inside of my body.

This wound was eerily similar to Tommy’s Wrist Slash earlier in the year.

While back in town, Josh got a hold of his Dad and found out the RV was probably not going to be ready for a while because the mechanic has gone missing.

…so, we drove back to Albuquerque.

Today I woke up late. Of course I had no idea where I was, as that happens on road trips and/or tour. We stayed at Dan’s house for the night. I slept on a familiar couch that used to be one of my beds from when I lived in Las Cruces, clearly grandfathered into Dan’s ownership from 5 years ago.

We went to Andale’s, a Las Cruces Mexican restaurant with delicious Mexican food that doesn’t make me want to die after I eat it.

Josh finally got to show me who he believes to be my look-alike doppelganger. Josh had wanted to show me this guy for years, and he happened to be our server for the day. I insisted he looked nothing like me, but everyone at the table, including those I just met, insisted the guy was my counterpart.

We made our way to Tucson and stopped halfway to take photos of a spot containing a tree (of life) next to a small lake paired with an old windmill.

Strange things happened here. First, there was an infestation of other-worldly grasshoppers, hopping all over the place, 50% of which were in the process of procreating to perpetuate the plague-like presence of their species.

As we neared the photographic oasis of lake, tree, and windmill, Josh came inches from stepping into the striking zone of a rattle snake hidden deeply in the brush. Of course, we took some time and effort to poke him with a long stick to test his anger threshold. Surprisingly, after a good 5 minutes or so of moving him around with a stick, we realized that he was a little too full to put up a fight, as a bulge in his body signified that he may have just swallowed a small animall.

After we finished taking some photos, a strange thing happened…

We headed back towards our truck, illegally parked on the side of the freeway (I-10). I took a moment to get some video of the train that passed near our truck. While I did that, Josh disappeard to a bushy area, and began to yell after me…

“Jimmy, come check out this snake!”

I took the camera with me and found Josh pointing at a 6 foot snake that was standing up almost like a cobra looking straight at both of us. I quickly approached him with the camera, first noticing that this wasn’t a poisonous snake, and I knelt in front of the snake to get a good shot. He slithered away super fast into the bushes.

I didn’t have time to get any shots of him. We were left alone to observe the surroundings.

A dead crow.

A dead cow carcass.

Another dead crow.

Then, a third snake.

Josh approached the snake, also different than the other two. It was small, like a baby rattler, only no rattle on its tail.

It slithered away in the most creepy way possible, rhythmic, pulsing, strange. It wasn’t fight-or-flight. It was slithering in a mocking way. Like… you guys shouldn’t F@#%^ing be in here.

I looked at the dead cow. I took photos of it. Something felt strange about taking photos of the dead animals. Then I took note of how dry the ground was, cracked desert platelets of dirt, and then noticed how grass seemed to refuse to grow around the small trees within the boundaries of the place. The place wreaked of some unique stench, as if the rotting cow had been sugar-coated with some kind of fragrance.

Josh expressed how uncomfortable he felt to be in there. With a chill, he left ASAP-style. I followed.

We talked about how strange the event was. It was quite close to experiencing a dream that suddenly takes a turn for the worse, a nightmarish trap.

3 snakes. 3 dead animals. An oasis versus a dead zone. It was too weird. We talked about animal archetypes, numbers, and what it meant for the future of our journey.

The windmill was on the left point, the tree and lake on the right, the dead-zone was on the top point, like an isosceles triangle.

Lots of contemplation happening these days. Life-long friends seem to be asking the same questions and running into similar confusions, experiencing similar epiphanies.

If there really is something dramatic happening in the collective, it’s not enough for anybody to freely talk about. I also doubt the importance of advertising it here. Then I often question whether I am a victim of my own subjectivity, taking my mental filter of reality too seriously.

TV and movies are talking about the similar subject matter… secrets revealed, the mayans exposed, what 2012 means, the paranormal, the unexplainable, doomsday.

Does nobody else think this is strange?

Does anybody else think this should have been on the news more than Tiger Woods?

It blows my mind what the media brushes aside, what they fixate on, and what the mass is okay with absorbing every single night on the tube.

It also blows my mind that we still play the game of following or voting for politicians, pastors, or school faculty who often make a valiant effort to hide anything human about themselves.

Why don’t we think rituals like church communion or even the opening ceremonies for the Olympics are a little strange (i.e., people in white robes zombie-flocking to the speech-master)? Do we ignore original ideas or questions in our mind relating to why we do things the way we do?

Why do priests wear conical hats and peculiar robes, and carry that staff around? Why does the clergy stick to the same structure that breeds child molesters? What is psychological reason for it, despite its self-declared connection to God? What if God doesn’t like religion? What if God doesn’t “like”?

Why does a graduating class wear a square hat at graduation, move the tassel to the side, and throw it up in the air? Why do we agree to participate in rituals without asking or knowing what it all means?

Why does the newspaper blatantly insist that we drink fluoridated water? Is it really good for us? If so, why did the Nazis immediately add fluoride to their prisoners’ water supply?

Why do so many relationships end with break-up lines from movies or t.v. shows? Why does anybody think “The Bachelor” is reality/real? Why are extremo-masculine and extremo-feminine themes in movies something enjoyed and sought after in real life? See: The Transporter or The Time Travelers Wife.

Why are we okay with repeating empty catch-phrases when giving somebody advice?

Why Bill O’Reilly? Why not Marilyn Manson?

Why are we okay with presidents hiring speech-writers instead of saying their own words?

Why do we try to find security or salvation in other people or things?

Why do sunsets make sense?

My camera went missing for about 10 minutes, then I found this picture on the camera when I got it back:

Mum made pork loin for dinner. I often get curious about what new company may experience at our dinner table. There’s never really a stable conversation exchanged about usual life-things; mostly a lot of gags based on previous jokes. I don’t even know if our interaction is funny or even understandable to outsiders.

After dinner, Mum and I had a conversation about her encounter with a spiritual medium when she was a teenager, and how most of the medium’s predictions about her life came true. I asked her if she thought it was an overall positive or negative experience. She said that at first she thought it was silly, then later was a little freaked out about it, and came to think it was evil. Intrigued, I told her about past semi-psychic experiences I’ve had where some of my dreams contained events which later came true, which seemed to be positive for me.

These are the conversations I like to have with my mum.

This is usually the time of year where the cold is somehow not that cold anymore, despite dreadful numerical readings on the thermometer. It is during this part of the season when I often consider buying a new jacket for the last time.

Tonight I met up with Tommy and Dustin to hang out, talk band and discuss the drummer situation. Cabernet was present, so as time progressed, the conversation sort of metamorphosed into unrelated offensive humor, a bit of unsettling man-gossip, and then to metaphysical theories on paranormal phenomena.

Sometimes while I’m absorbed in these types of conversations, I tune in to what I’m verbalizing and try to seek out the line between profundity and ignorance. If I decide on profundity, I then try to find the line between wonderment and arrogance.

The line of truth does not always immediately present itself. When I reach no conclusion on what the source of my words are based, and hence a way to comfortably and confidently proceed with the topic, my physiology may change, a sweat drop may form. Then, amongst the moment of highest tension and fear of being found out or questioned, I wave my hands around in the air, relax, and say: “Hey, hey guys? WWJD.” And everything is perfect again.