Next weekend I was supposed to fly out to Las Vegas, rent a car, and then drive out to the Mojave National Preserve. From there I’d drive and walk and sleep outside until I became a shaman, or until aliens lifted me up to their ships, or well, until the first weekend of April arrived. When I lived out there, I did most of my traveling to the big name glory boy national parks like Zion, Death Valley, Yosemite, and Joshua Tree. I failed to venture out to the preserve and the national monuments in the area.
Desert Oracle opened my eyes and ears to the those places I didn’t personally know about. I only saw them as pink and golden sections on the map—and of course how stupid and fragile reality is. Sand to snow. Desert trails. These places had been there, but were overlooked.
But now, with airports as central hubs pulsating and pushing out infectious disease, flight rebates, and every single website and person telling me to stay home, not travel, and wait this out, my trip is probably over. I think I’m going to give in. I’ll be a good American. Rather than wait seven months to go out there, I’ll wait a year and seven months. Henry David Thoreau was right.
Here’s your open thread for Saturday night. Use this space to talk about whatever: investing for the long term, reading The Road, your favorite submarine movies, indoor body-blasting workouts, things you want to put in Bill O’Brien’s chin, and which team will rent out your heart until Bill O’Brien is finally gone forever.
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Enjoy your Saturday night, everyone.