New Mexico, Amongst Other Things

so i took a trip to new mexico. january 6-9, 2008. it was awesome. let me tell you about it.

i made the plans for this trip way back when, when i was unemployed, and miserable, in the middle of moving back to san antonio, and just not having a lot of fun. so i did something uncharacteristic of me. i said, "Fuck It." i said fuck it to being unhappy, and fuck it not having any fun. i said fuck it to not seeing my friends for years at a time. i said fuck it to not allowing myself to do something that would be good for me, fun for me, healthy for me, pleasant for me.

i booked a round trip flight to albuquerque, and my friend M. did the same. i made plans to rent a car, we made a general plan of what sites we would like to see, and we just fucking went for it.

there is a reason, that not many people tour new mexico in the dead of winter, but we will get to that later. first, some backstory.

i have a passing familiarity with new mexico. during a special year of jew-camp, my bunk went on a bus trip across the southwest. we passed through "The Land of Enchantment" (new mexico's official state motto) and hit up carlsbad caverns (awesome!!!) and white sands (also awesome! totally got heat stroke!) on our way through. later, like, last spring, i scored tests for Harcourt Assessment, which is a standardized testing company. this, by the way, makes me think of Harcourt as a satan-inspired bureaucratic maze, all with the overarching aim of fitting children into tiny boxes. i am not a fan, to put it simply. they are a bad place. they use people up until they are bitter and wasted, shrivelled in mind and body like a prune, and then they cut them loose. they use a lot of temporary labor, so they have the freedom to get rid of anyone who doesn't toe lines fairly easily, with no mention of severance packages, etc. and you can fucking FORGET about benefits and office perks. the best perk they have to offer is if your cubicle is within a five minute walk from the coffee machine.

anyway... so spring 2007, i scored tests at night for them. i was even promoted to team leader! go me! i can excel, even at jobs i motherfucking HATE! yes. i'm that good. but the point is that our tests were from new mexico schools. and i gotta tell ya... if these tests were any indication (and they are) public education in this country is pretty damn effed up. i mean, i sort of knew that already. but now i have actual solid data, and i am relaying my findings to you. a lot of the kids didn't understand the questions. many were practically unable to write, or to string a couple sentences together. there was clearly a breakdown between what they wanted to say, and their ability to say it. and this was like, fifth grade. we're not talking "write a well reasoned post modern critique of latinos in film since 1975," etc. blah blah blah. then again, the vast number of people are not all that intelligent, so i suppose i shouldn't get all broken up about it.

but i do.

but it was clear, at any rate, that the state was poor, an intriguing mix of anglo, hispanic, and american indian cultures. it was clear, furthermore, that it must be pretty damn dry if the state tree is a yucca.

for the uninitiated, a yucca is sort of like a palm tree equipped for desert warfare. it usually has lance-like leaves, tough and leather. it slowly drops the older ones to develop a sort of stubby trunk like affair. it will put out a flower stalk ranging from a few feet to twenty feet, and there you have it. its what the sand people in star wars would grow in their patio garden, IN ORDER TO MAKE IT LOOK LUSH. because your other options are cacti, and SAND.

so M. and i arrive in new mexico, get our rental PT Cruiser (which is an odd off-yellow color...), and drive for the north-west, a land rich in mountains, mesas, pinon trees, indian reservations, and indian casinos. our goal, four corners. lame, but whatever, we're on vacation, and we're already really enjoying each other's company. i haven't seen M. for truly, years. i miss her, terribly. it was so good to see her, and so quickly lapse back into this whole rich friendship that had been on hold. like, all the behaviors, the sayings, the references, the music, the dynamic... it was all so suddenly there, and it all made such perfect sense... its like coming home. its "THIS is what a friendship feels like!" its knowing someone so well, and having them know you... it was good. it was really good. it might have been the best part of the trip, in all truth.

so to try and break this down (because i want to give you a schematic for our travels before i devolve (or evolve?) into stories) i'm going to give a basic list of our activities. as a help to both of us, the predominant activity was driving.

1) drove to town fifteen miles away from four corners. get a motel room. (with wireless, for M.'s computer)

2) retrace steps to indian casino for "Sunday Night Special: Fried Chicken Plate; $5.99!" M. has a bit of a fried chicken fetish.

3) almost get caught in the middle of a fight in which the word "baby-daddy" was tossed around, as were some fists, a table or two, and a well-aimed gob of spit. this after M. asks, "why are there so many security guards in the casino dining room?" well, now we know. we each lose five dollars worth of quarters at the slots. i wonder what people find fun about gambling. we go home and go to sleep.

4) wake up to snow. snow all over north-western new mexico. a family of four, and a couple, are missing. (all six are eventually found, in good health.) plans for four corners are scrapped. next stop on itinerary, Roswell, in the severe south-east of the state.

5) drive. a lot.

6) albuquerque. we eat food. M. takes the wheel for a bit. we head south through mountains, and stop off at a store called "Jackalope." initially, we had high hopes, but it turned out to be a new mexico chain that seems to be aiming at some of pier one's market share. we move on.

7) after M. screaming "PUEB-AH-LOH!" every time we pass a sign for an indian pueblo, we decide to finally visit one. we drive around for five minutes and look at the little houses and buildings, and tribal leadership quarters, and immediately start to feel like stupid american tourists invading a little community. it was voyeuristic, and wrong, and though i doubt anyone much cared, we both apologize for barging in. our bad.

8) M. continues driving through dusk. we head through "Jornada del Muerte," or "The Plains of Death," cross a mesa, and then fly through the "Malpais Lava Flow," which was pretty fucking awesome. and when i say fly, i mean to say that M. managed to get our trusty cruiser up to 100 mph in el Jornada del Muerte. and truthfully, watching the flat, stunted expanse fly by, you couldn't even tell.

9) M. starts driving as night falls. gets distracted by glare. i take the wheel.

10) ROSWELL!!! we get a room at a motel, check on the status of the New Hampshire Primary, watch "Golden Girls," and go to bed.

11) Roswell International U.F.O. Museum and Research Center. it truly is a labor of love for all the many, many dorks who have contributed blow-ups of 1948 newspapers, dioramas of the crash-site, x-files posters, national geographic maps, original artwork, and all the other many maquettes, models, and brouhaha that take up the space. note: this is where i picked up the majority of souvenirs for my family. i also got my picture taken and inserted into a background of a u.f.o. and aliens in a field. i doffed my hat to the visitor. he placidly looked on. i have three copies for myself and posterity.

12) later that same day, the roswell museum of art. actually, many gift-shops intervene. at one, i purchase a t-shirt showing a little "Grey" (the aliens with the big heads who are about three feet high. yes, they've categorized the creatures...) striking Leonardo da Vinci's classic "Vitruvian Man" pose. you know, circle, man inside, limbs straight down, and then extended? yeah. awesome. we also take pictures of a shiny metal silo.

13) lunch at "Cattle Baron." M. has prime rib. i go with fried catfish. we both partake of the salad bar.

14) as we have exhausted most of what Roswell has to offer, we drive. we drive east, joking about reaching the texas border. we drive with the sun at our backs and the sky streaking orange and pink. we stop at a ghost town and take a great many pictures of the abandoned building. i want to go to the old cemetery, but M. says no. i acquiesce. there might have been snakes anyway. better off avoiding the unbeaten path.

15) back to Roswell for more golden girls (i'm afraid to say that i think i'm rose... the dumb one from minnesota. i would KILL to be dorothy. i heart bea arthur. but alas, i'm rose.) and bed.

16) WHATABURGER! M. has never been to a whataburger, so we partake of breakfast at one. i do not care for fast food, just a general statement. M. has a bacon cheeseburger. she is pleased. i have two breakfast muffins with sausage. i am stuffed. we start back to albuquerque and the airport.

17) we almost have a fight involving the amount of soda i drink, and the accompanying regularity of my needing to stop and use the restroom. M. alleges i should see a doctor. i allege that she's being ridiculous.

18) the lava flows once again break my heart.

19) try as i might, i cannot force the cruiser up to 100 mph on our second trip through the plains of death.

20) we do some random souvenir shopping in the city, and then, we go our separate ways. i buy a silver bracelet from Java and a necklace made of Chinese Turquoise. which sort of negates going to New Mexico. ah well. M. gets some southwestern jewelry, and we share a last few moments before my taxi comes to get me. (my flight leaves before hers.)

so now i'm back. everyone liked their souvenirs. i'm thrilled with my haul. i have a digital camera full of blurry pictures of mountains and and plains, and documentation of everything in Roswell, as well as the ghost town. i saw M., and it was so so so so wonderful. i forget what a good, solid friendship feels like sometimes. i have good friends in town, but somehow, its different. its liberating to almost lose control of the car when your friend shouts "JACKALOOOOPE!!!" or "PUEB-AH-LOH!!!", and then you both collapse into fits of laughter. its wonderful to have a conversation about the use of spit in a fight. and its just been so long, since i've been so so happy just existing with someone by my side. it might have been the best trip ever. and next time, we're doing arizona.

Promises of Things to Come

i am alive.

some of you might have been wondering. i know i've been woefully unactive here in blog-land. its an issue. and part of it is that i'm still digesting a great many things that have happened.

granted, i also know that blogging aids the digestion process, but still... it just all feels like a big sunny swirl in my head, and its pleasant, and i'm not sure how much i want to start picking apart a corpse. i'd rather let the memories remain alive and amorphous in my head right now. i can start telling stories soon. but i'm not ready to yet.

part of me is tired of telling stories.

it really is starting to feel like writing an account of an event, is like taking the living memory, sticking it in a jar of ether, and then dismembering the corpse, examining each part, and then laying them out on the table in as close to a copy of real life as you can manage. but it doesn't all quite fit together anymore. some parts have to be shifted, and isn't it sort of better as a whole to fix that little aspect? this part relates to this part, that thing just distracts, and soon you have frankenfrog.

i had christmas. i went to new mexico. i own a drum. i stood in the plains of death. i hung up the phone on a retarded person (BY ACCIDENT!!!). i drove through mountains. i finally saw juno. i backed into my sister's friend's car, and she's been being a total cunt about it. i watched the sun set on a ghost town.

and i've thought about all these things, lots and lots. and i've thought about other things too.

i've thought about how some people use the terms "independent" and "willing to listen to both sides of the issue" to avoid making an actual moral stand of their own.

i've thought about how too much news can make me unhappy.

i've thought about how stupid so much of life is.

and i don't think any of this thinking makes me "deep" or "wise." i've just been doing it. i don't own a t.v. i have to spend my time doing something...

i have a lot to say. i'll start saying it soon. until then, know that i'm alive, and feeling good.

and yes, it is possible for me to feel good. thank you ever so much for asking.