Day 11: day 11

I drove into the desert at sunset.
On the radio, a haunting cover of Black Sabbath's War Pigs turned my thoughts. Rage came. The sky is different here. No colors. Behind me, night crept. Before me the day died quietly, the last strip of light slowly fading from blue into gray between a gauntlet of distant mountain peaks and cloud silhouettes. darkness nestled close, until even the stunted pines beside me were almost gone from view. Almost. It was the stars. Out where there are no electric lights, no towering trees, and no terrain to obscure your view the stars make themselves known. At home in Connecticut they are there for you if you look for them. Here they grow bold, grab you by the short hairs, and scream in your facebones "Ohh hello. How nice to see you again. Yeah, we're still here. We're not going anywhere. But you are, aren't you? yeah, you'll die soon. Loser. We'll still be here long after you've been forgotten won't we fellows?" And of course the others will agree, they always do. Stupid snooty stars.

On my way home I bought a lot of booze.