It's hot east of Yuma and the almost continuous thundering of jets spoils what few quiets there are between the blamming of the target shooters.
The sign says ENTERING PUBLIC LANDS STAY ON DESIGNATED ROUTES and the area is a maze of tracks around and between the creosotes.
In *Miracles of Life,* published in 2008, J.G. Ballard eloquently describes the contrasts between the Shanghai of his youth and lunch at Cannes when Holly Hunter took umbrage when a journalist asked her why she "was in such shit." (the movie *Crash*)
His remarks on the inability of Americans to appreciate his satire of their fascination with gratuitous violence & violent sex are followed closely with observation that our politics are increasingly influenced by right-wingers and old-world religionists.
I'm looking foward to Desert Kinkfest in Quartzsite. Daytime temps should obviate the need for anything more than shoes, a water-soaked shirt and a hat.
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