Sunday, February 17, 2013

Serving the residents of Sedona since 2013

I'm in Sedona driving John's truck around because he had shoulder surgery and vicoden and needed a laxative and parquet courts just came on satellite radio in the parking lot of walgreens.

John had too many death-defying ultimate frisbee altercations. He lives in a trailer park. His landlord is Orson Welles's daughter. 

Got home and fought my cold by ordering Jim Harrison's Letters to Yesenin, a poetry collection, which he describes as a triumphant suicide note. At first, I thought this meant that he achieved death by hand, but I suppose that would be a successful suicide note – triumph is beating death.

Been playing those ass-kicking synthesiser albums Stevie wonder cut in the 70s. Amazing!

Hadn't mentioned this to anyone, including myself, in other words I had forgotten, but now I remember that on the shuttle back from Sedona, I saw what at first glance was a wolf, tramping through the deep snow, but more slender, yet larger than a coyote with a long tail and can only reach the conclusion that what I saw was a mountain lion.  

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