Tuesday, June 18, 2019


At 37:14 Marty Balin screams the blog title. (And, of course, as you know, they never did.)

Prompted by Jean Luc Goddard to play atop a hotel in New York, the Jefferson Airplane let fly.

Suffering a relapse after too much fun at FIBark, I'm languishing, by mySELF no less (so she won't get sick), but taking FULL advantage of her BOSE SoundLink Mini.

Skip to 47:13 when they lift off.

WOW! Colors, maaaaaaaaaaan.

And at 55:17 "The insights that we gained, not just from LSD...."

And have you heard? In May, by ballot, Denver, the Colorado municipality, voted to decriminalize psilocybin. The decision officially places it at the bottom of the list of drug-related crimes and possessors will, supposedly, not be prosecuted. This is in recognition not only of its lack of deleterious effects, but in acknowledgement of its potential for relieving/alleviating symptoms of depression, PTSD and other emotional and mental problems.

Sunday, June 16, 2019

Saturday, June 15, 2019

Leaving Chokecherry

As with most of the places I go, I picked Chokecherry Canyon off the map for no reason other than it was convenient. On Thursday there were a few others along the road, but Friday evening the traffic was almost continuous until 10:30 p.m. In the morning we were surrounded. Many soon left, but others came. The road was REALLY rough and I wondered if there was a black hole at the top of the hill that was absorbing and regurgitating them all.

Yesterday, Saturday, I was able to pack (finally getting over the cold) and we found our way to within 15 miles south of Salida. Exhausted, we're hoping to make it into town before the afternoon thunderstorms arise.

I looked back over my shoulder from the middle of the San Luis Valley and could only see the outline of the mountains; they were veiled by the dark clouds that were letting loose a torrent of Cats und Dogs.

Put On Yer Headphones

When yer stuck in bed, by yerse'f; done watched the porn and taken care of bidness, it's time to enjoy a bit of moozak. I don't usually listen to olde stuff, I heerd it enuf when I was young....but I stumbled upon the two below.

In the first, Phil Graham's comment about "what draws" resonated; it was true of the art business. But I refused to sell "what sold"... except for a few prints by the child wonder: Alexandra Nechita (wiki article).   (Ms. Nechita's website)


After seeing Mr. Graham, you may wanna skip to 7:00, when Eight Miles High starts.

In Whiter Shade of Pale with the Danish National Orchestra, I was instantly smitten with the choral singer at 4:46.

We head to Salida today for the FIBark (First in Boating on the Arkansas River) Festival. We're eager to see the SUP boxing. (link is to video from 2018.)

Friday, June 14, 2019

Down With A Cold

Well, we've all heard about people who can find something to be happy about. But I'm a cat-man and that means it can ALWAYS be better.

So, while having a cold isn't nearly as bad as throat cancer -- like Rolling Steel Tent (Al needs help paying the medical bills. Please make a donation via the Paypal button in the upper right on his blog.)

or being dead, like Malia Lane, it suuuuucks! (Of course, we all KNOW death is a big party; it's the getting there that can be problematic.)

She's in there, working on entries for her new blog -- once we get it up. In the meantime, I'm lying here, unable to even TOUCH her lest she come down with it too.


Thursday, June 13, 2019

Abiding By the Law

Having my 2nd pot interrupted by the authorities didn't help. They came, like LDS door-knockers, to educate me that "You're not allowed to camp between highway 160 and Big Meadows Reservoir." It's to preserve the river's sanctity. (The South Fork of the Rio Grand flows out of the reservoir.)

I'm all for the sanctity of rivers, but the stance they both struck was straight out of central casting. Hers was wide, wider even that John Wayne's. He, along with width, hooked his thumbs in his pants above his belt, close to where the holster might've hung had he had one. I almost laughed aloud; wondering if they're taught "intimidating" poses as part of their training.

I need to drop another pant size before I can -- once again -- fit my lederhosen (mine come to just above the knee). But you can see I'm ready with my visage.

"I haff cum to inform yew zat your nayberz haff complaint!! Yer grass ist vun quarter inch too long! By sundown....or ELSE!" der Burgermeister sed. Und he huffed off to haf anudder schtein uf beer. Ya!

Wednesday, June 12, 2019

Eli Ridgecock - Dog Musher

You just never know who yer gonna meet!

Discouraged at the number of folks camped along the La Plata River, I shifted into 4 whl lo and sidled up FR 792. There, as I was settling in, I was startled by someone running by!

On his way down I learned it was non other than Eli Ridgecock, renowned dog-musher. Formerly of Fairbanks, Alaska, he's now with Durango Dog Ranch, a dog-sledding adventure company.

After explaining their provenance, Eli agreed to take the 9mm bullets I'd found out near Gallup the other day (any weight, besides my own, is too much). There were 60 regular and one hollow point and two and a half boxes of 22 long rifle. All worth about $35.00 including tax. That's them he's holding.

I couldn't bring myself to leave them or throw them away. The magic marker reads: "From California Can't Take Home"

Such a purty box! And along with the bullets there were several half-liter water bottles and a beer can or two (all perforated).