(some of you from livejournal might have noticed I’ve been stealing my own entries… that is assuming I actually have readers here from livejournal… or at all)
An anxious memory:
Summer of 2009. We had just finished our second day of hiking in Kings Canyon National Park on our way to Rae Lakes. It was a hard day’s hike during which we had reached our morale low-point. One of us was having a migraine, probably out of malnutrition and dehydration (you can’t sustain yourself on pop-tarts and marshmallows on a Sierra trek). We had melted one shoe and had forgotten one sleeping bag. Another was coming down with some sort of sickness. Our campsite neighbors were going to turn around; it was too strenuous an itinerary for them. They suggested we do the same. While my comrades might have wanted to, I knew that wasn’t an option for me. I came to Kings Canyon to see Rae Lakes.
A happy memory:
It was a beautiful morning, and my rectum had within it an equally beautiful gift for the Porcelain Fairy. The toilet was a quarter-mile hike from the campsite across a bridge and up a hill. When I reached it, I was initially met with dread: it was an exposed shaft with a seat; a hole in the ground. Smelly and public. But the timer had gone off on my loaf, the biscuits were baked, and it was here where the entree shall be served. And who, ignoring horrible accidents and medical emergencies, is ever unhappier after having thrown the frisbee than beforehand? I had made peace with my unavoidable throne.
The complimentary bread was served with butter, and there I sat perched on my throne, in true communion with nature. There I sat in the open, exposed to the world, and yet no one the wiser: it was my little secret with the squirrels and the trees. The morning sun was shining; the air was fresh. Before me were the valleys and the mountains of the High Sierra, the rivers and streams were at my feet, and the cloudless sky and God surrounded me above, welcoming me to the infinity of Creation. I was King. Of myself. I ruled no one else. And yet, no one else existed. There was no migraine and melted shoe. There was no sickness. There was no sleeplessness or fatigue. Just me existing among the world. Sitting on the john among trees. The gentle breeze caressing me like a concubine.
Location Location Location
Seven. I just got you to read seven euphemisms for pooping. *points and laughs*