Sorry for the lack of updates, but dad has been dragging us so far out into the wilderness of Moab that cell coverage is a figment of fantasy; does this guy ever slow down. He’s a different guy when on the road and traveling with him is NOT for the faint of heart, although I have to admit that we make a great duo, both a bit hyper to see what is over the next horizon, mine spurred by my time in the crate, his by the sense of his own impending mortality.
Some would view taking an extended walkabout such as this as a sort of cop out, a reluctance to face reality; I view it more on the context of a painter that has gotten to close to his creation. When all the details start to blur together, an artist has to step back from the painting to regain his/her focal point, or vision if you will, sometimes lost in the minutae of the daily grind.
Part of this trip has been to regain that focus, and even narrow it, to determine where we go from here with my story. I view my message as a mission, that we all have our crates, but we don’t have to stay in them; there IS a better way; we all matter, and we all make a difference, no matter how insignificant it may appear to others, or God forbid, ourselves.
The other part of the reason for the trip? Dad’s an idiot who sometimes will find a reason when there is no reason, and the road west always beckons; tomorrow we turn back towards the east, and eventually home to the Casa del Whackos.
Some teaser pics…