Just about two years ago, I had an epiphany out at Joshua Tree.

In the previous version of this post, I had a link to a poem I wrote at that time. I'm not a poet. My poem was very embarassing. If you like to make fun of rotgut-vodka-soaked mid-life crisisers, well then, you might have considered it funny.

Out at JTree the other day, after a day of scrambling not having a rope over the rocks, really really really desperately wanting to do some unroped 5th class stuff but not having a rope making me really really nervous about it, well, it's not so crazy after all.

The straight-haired hippie chick at the store selling the Wiccan books. My Karma, their camera.

Watching the twinkling lights in the hills above Yucca Valley, people actually live out here despite its gay and tat index being confined to a small segment of the population. It'd probably be only a month at that before I was getting Hassled by The Man.

But the Hippie Chick and I could climb the rocks all day study Wiccanism all night.