Yesterday _wind_spirit_ and I hiked Pine Creek Canyon. We were on the trail for eight hours, and went further up the canyon than we had in years. At one point on the descent, the way ahead seemed worthy of a photograph.



Today was our sabbath. Pillow talk:

old_cutter_john:   "I love you."
_wind_spirit_:       "My fun playmate!"
old_cutter_john:   "It's good to have got that figured out."
_wind_spirit_:       "That we love each other?"
old_cutter_john:   "'My fun playmate.'"
_wind_spirit_:       "Definitely!"

Sensible fear! I wonder what it's like to have that kind of sense.




Freaky!— if only because one does get attached to the upside of being human.

There's people who'll comment on the quality of the visuals they get with a drug, and there's people who'll comment on the quality of the verbals in a kinky scene. Using those words, that is. There's also people who don't do one, or who don't do the other, or who do neither, even if they're in a position to do both, and even if they freely discuss drugs and kink. I haven't explored further, but I find the phenomenon randomly interesting.

The Wonder of You. It's one of the two Elvis songs that Larry Levenson used to sing (or lip-sync) when it was time to turn on the lights and close Plato's Retreat for the day. The hype was, "The king of swing does the king of rock'n'roll," and occasionally some girl would come up and try to tickle him or something to prove that he was lip-synching, but no one ever quite succeeded.

I also like his rendition of Amazing Grace, but it's hardly his song.

Our apartment was burglarized last night, about ten o'clock, while we were asleep. The burglars apparently believed no one was home and woke us up by trying to get through our locked bedroom door, then fled when they heard _wind_spirit_ react. They escaped with a couple of cameras, a photo scanner, an MP3 player, an assortment of batteries and accessories for those objects, an eight-pack of Gatorade, and two bottles of beer, which they drank outside the window by which they entered and left. Also a knapsack, which they emptied onto the floor so they could fill it with the other things they stole and thereby carry everything more easily. They wrought a fair amount of destruction. Among the objects destroyed was my notorious map case, in which was stored a couple of hundred dollars in coin. They could have easily opened the latches, but apparently assumed the latches were locked because they're equipped with locks. Though the map case was indeed destroyed, it was still closed, and the contents were intact, including the coins. We spent about three hours dealing with cops, including a crime scene investigator who lifted fingerprints. As soon as they could after they first arrived, they sealed the perimeter of the apartment complex and flew in a helicopter to try to find the burglars, but they were gone. The cops wound up arresting some unfortunate young man in the neighborhood who was carrying some weed and for whom they had a warrant, because he knew they were looking for him and panicked, attracting their attention, though it became obvious to them very quickly that he had nothing to do with the burglary. In a couple of hours I have to start dealing with my insurance company. I already sent my agent an email.

Beyond the Last Exit. As in my Live Journal bio: "I have followed the road to ruin far beyond the last exit. The brief intermissions on my endless journey seem like brief intermissions on an endless journey." One of my music compilations has that title, though it's not autobiogrphical.

There's been a murder in the bar down the block. Someone walked in about dawn and shot the bartender.

Monday evening _wind_spirit_ and I hid out from Halloween by doing the tourist thing on the Strip. Along the way I took this picture of OSheasS, the last open-storefront gambling joint on Las Vegas Boulevard, scheduled for demolition at the end of the year:




Two poker games just off the sidewalk, a bar behind them, a craps table to the left, and a Burger King way in the back. Tragic loss!

If you want to add the photo to your collection, the high-resolution version is on Tumblr.

Allah be praised!

Reading Margaret Atwood's The Year of the Flood sure did enhance my appreciation of this song.

We just turned off our phones to get started on our sabbath. Like the song itself says, God bless!

See you all when we're done.