There is a special kind of rush that accompanies firing a large caliber weapon. Handheld fate, as it were. This is something that almost inevitably has to be done when traveling in a part of the country where they worship the Gun.
I think it is a regional thing. I think it is OK to restrict guns in California because of the population density and the sheer number of those goddamn nutcases. But then it is the nutcases that get their hands on the guns anyways, independent of laws, so I dunno. At least it is harder to get the guns...maybe that amounts to something.
Montana on the other hand is a pretty sparsely populated region, and guns become a sort of subject of recreation, because you can fire the biggest goddamn calibers you can find into the hills and there is no one around to tell you otherwise. But I can't help but wonder if all that lead going into the ground is bad for the long run. I guess we'll see.
When you wake up in the morning you can hear the hunters' gunfire echo through the valley; it sounds like muffled little pops. I like firing guns at shit. I do. But not living shit, unless I was starving. So thus I do not believe in hunting as a recreation. Well, scratch that, hunting humans is pretty fun. I'm OK with hunting humans. But deer? They're just so cute.
I am in Idaho right now, under an A-frame, looking over the luminous snow fields that lay quiet under the white haze. The sun is going down beyond the haze, but I cannot see it.
Everything is starting to run together now. A daze. A dream of sorts. It all follows from that great black stream of road, and all of our adventures branch out from that road like fluid forking tendrils, and then suck right back into it when we return to the Great Stream. Looking back, it has been a good trip...however homesick I may be at this point in time. We take the long trip back tomorrow, we return to the Stream, and inside the car I will lose myself yet again in this continual dream. It will be good to get back.
And now 2007 eh? 2006 was a decent year, for me anyway.
