I went hiking with my friend Ede. He’s a 40 something white boy Buddhist biker punk from Illinois. He used to play with this band in Chicago that would open for GG Allin. Nowadays, he struggles with anger, depression, and self hatred for complicity with the man. Actually. I think he has always struggled with that.
We walked up Jacob’s Crossing on the Superstition Mountains. He mainly talked about women, quitting his job, buying an RV, and finding some land to grow pot on. I mainly talked about how I want to buy a piano again. I really want to work on a solo piano album.
I don’t know a lot about the history of Apache Junction but I can deduce some shit from the name and all the old miner town tourist aesthetics and the contemporary Trump bumper stickers.
Settler history and presence aside, the land has all the subtle beauty that only the desert exudes. I think subtle beauty translates to subtle life. An outsider can look at this landscape and see Mars or a barren wasteland but indigenous people and long term residents know there’s so much more underneath.
We got pretty high up there. Not all the way to the top but to the point when you’re pretty much climbing. We stopped. Looked far out and had nothing good to say about the city on the horizon. Then we smoked a bowl and listened to Sleep’s Dopesmoker before we walked back down the mountain.
I enjoy spending time with Ede. I’m 29 and he’s 42. The age difference always operates as a lens to view my potential psychological future as a straight male fucktard. We never forgive ourselves for our choices and we rightfully manufacture guilt/self-hatred but I almost feel hope knowing that it doesn’t matter if you’re 29 or 42. There’s always time to learn and grow. To be better and to contribute meaningfully.
I also really enjoyed using my body even more than normal. I don’t have a car so I do a lot of walking and standing during my commute. Half of my job is body labor so I’m not entirely inactive. But it was great to use my body for something else.
My father would always talk to me about my body and my youth. He would discuss it in a way that almost resembled jealousy. He would share stories about how he would bike so many miles to class and back everyday. Back when he was attending ASU in the late 70’s. Or how he pushed his body to the limit bullriding when he was in high school. Or how growing up in the 60’s on the Rez, you used the most of your body at a young age.
So it was great to feel my lungs burn, be almost out of breathe, feel my muscles start to give, then just hear him say “that’s when you push harder and use all that youth has to offer”.