Skip Hunt

I did a quick count of everyone in the bar before letting the bartender know I was buying the house a round!

I can’t tell you just how incredibly ethereal the desert smells in the Northern baja just after a rain in July.

As the afternoon blazed, and after we’d all made it past the complimentary nausea hump, we built a nice fire and drifted through loose conversational threads…

...darting through the subtropical wood without concern of all the fresh scrapes and cuts I was getting from the brush and brambles… figured it was better than feral doggie-fang surprise.

I meandered from lackluster card table display of forgotten debris… boiling booths of brain-scrambling banality. It was so hot and I felt like an ant hounded by some demented demigod child…

Deceived by heaven’s promise… I drifted up and away into the thin delicate seduction…

A little something I wrote last night regarding my relationship with color:

Studied in logic and form I bear down to trudge the day’s first steps…

I calculate each stride with purpose…

Then his hand was on my leg and started to caress it as he suggested we take a walk to my hotel for a complimentary suck.

"Funny" thing happened on the way back from Cape Point today. Well, it wasn’t so funny at the time… as a matter of fact, it was more than a bit terrifying and I nearly soiled myself!

He said if our people "believe" they are dying for "God" then we can usually count on them to fullfill their mission of blowing themselves up. Said there was really no other way.

...then popped it into his mouth and let out a huge laugh as his stoney face broke into a smile almost as bright as the desert sun suspended in the brilliant blue sky.