Friday, October 22, 2010
Sitting soaking in the "Hippie Pots" upstream from Glenwood Springs, CO. Chanted a bit, intoning Sanskrit mantras and incantations to dispell ills and shake off and rinse off da "road funk" that seems to be stickin to me like flies on honey. Got a ride from Frisco to Gypsum with a fella fishes in Alaska and outfits here in CO, then another ride with a couple of fellas run a salvage yard hereabouts, another hitchhiker jumped in as well. A rather scattered fellow who'd been nervously pacing back and forth between the liquor store and convenience store doors, spaced only a few yards apart, and in front of my venue on a bench for the latter part of my wait posting a sign: "Glenwood Springs." Went to bed last night to rain falling on my impromptu lean-to after a kind couple payed for my meal at the Village Inn, and awoke before sunrise to a bowl and to set out in search of these pools I've not visited for a number of years. So here I sit and soak in said healing hot mineral waters, still wandering the west with a briefcase worth more than its weight in gold and only $11 cash, not from a fossil sale but from a passerby unrequested. Indeed the road magic on this misadventure of a business trip has been mixed, though as life doth usually present itself, more a rainbow with varying degrees of tint and hue and brilliance than merely black and white.