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A Promise To California
A promise to California,
Or inland to the great pastoral Plains, and on to Puget sound and Oregon;
Sojourning east a while longer, soon I travel toward you, to remain,
to teach robust American love,
For I know very well that I and robust love belong among you,
inland, and along the Western sea;
For these States tend inland and toward the Western sea, and I will also.
The west was getting out of gold,The breath of air had died of cold,When shoeing home across the white,I thought I saw a bird alight.Looking For A Sunset Bird In Winter
Of course I litter the public highway. Every chance I get. After all, it's not the beer cans that are ugly; it's the highway that is ugly. - Ed AbbeyMP3: Free Beer - Cruisin
Be still and know you areBe still and listen to your heartbeatFeel it pumping blood and energy and life into every cell in your bodyKnow that your life is meant for joyThat you're meant to grow sturdy like the tall oak tree *MP3: Stephen John Kalinich - Be Still
Brightblack Morning Light are on the cover of the newest FADER magazine and the pictures of the band's off the grid life in New Mexico are a-fucking-mazing. I didn't get a chance to read the article so I'm not exactly sure where in New Mexico they are, but let's get a stick, a bandana, a good pair of army boots, and start walking.From Death Comes For The Archbishop:
At sunrise next morning Father Vallaint set out, Sabino driving the wagon, his oldest boy riding Angelica, and Father Joseph riding Contento. They took the old road to the northeast, through the sharp red sand-hills spotted with juniper, and the Bishop accompanied them as far as the loop where the road wound out on the top of one of those conical hills, giving the departing traveller his last glimpse of Santa Fe. There Father Joseph drew rein and looked back at the town lying rosy in the morning light, the mountain behind it, and the hills close about it like two encircling arms."Auspice, Maria!" he murmured as he turned his back on these familiar things.
We left in April. Six of us in all. Mr. MacCready and his wife, from Ireland. Mr. Janus, from Virginia, I believe. With his servant, Jones. Myself. And our guide. A military man, coincidently. A Colonel Ives. He professed to know a new, shorter route through the Nevada's. Quite a route that was. Longer than the normal one. Impossible to travel. We worked very very hard. By the time of the first snowfall we were still one hundred miles from this place, that was November. Preceding though the snow was futile. We took shelter in a cave. Decided to wait until the storm had passed. The storm did not pass. The trails soon became impossible, and we had run out of food. We ate the Oxen. All the horses. Even my own dog. And that lasted us about a month. After that we turned to out belts, shoes, and roots we could dig up... but you know there's no real nourishment in those. We remained famished. The day that Jones died I was out collecting wood. He had expired from malnourishment. And when I returned, the others were cooking his legs for dinner. Would I have stopped it had I been there? I don't know. But I must say. When I stepped inside that cave... the smell of meat cooking... I thanked the lord! I thanked the lord! - RavenousMore RavenousMP3: Damon Albarn - Boyd's Journey (From The Ravenous Soundtrack)
Oh, that glorious Wisconsin wilderness!Everything new and pure in the very prime of the spring when Nature's pulses were beating highest and mysteriously keeping time with our own!Young hearts, young leaves, flowers, animals, the winds and the streams and the sparkling lake, all widely, gladly rejoicing together! - John Muir: The Story of My Boyhood and YouthMP3: Townes Van Zandt - I'll Be Here In The Morning
Never and never, my girl riding far and nearIn the land of the hearthstone tales, and spelled asleep,Fear or believe that the wolf in a sheepwhite hoodLoping and bleating roughly and blithely shall leap,My dear, my dear,Out of a lair in the flocked leaves in the dew dipped yearTo eat your heart in the house in the rosy wood.Sleep, good, for ever, slow and deep, spelled rare and wise,My girl ranging the night in the rose and shireOf the hobnail tales: no gooseherd or swine will turnInto a homestall king or hamlet of fireAnd prince of iceTo court the honeyed heart from your side before sunriseIn a spinney of ringed boys and ganders, spike and burn,HereMP3: Lovin Spoonful - Darling, Be Home Soon
Shall we gather at the river,Where bright angel feet have trod,With its crystal tide foreverFlowing by the throne of God?
Yes, we’ll gather at the river,The beautiful, the beautiful river;Gather with the saints at the riverThat flows by the throne of God.
Ere we reach the shining river,Lay we every burden down;Grace our spirits will deliver,And provide a robe and crown.Here.MP3: Willie Nelson - Whiskey RiverYoutube: "Too bad the guy's name wasn't Melvin or something, ya know?"
Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughsAbout the lilting house and happy as the grass was green,The night above the dingle starry,Time let me hail and climbGolden in the heydays of his eyes,And honoured among wagons I was prince of the apple townsAnd once below a time I lordly had the trees and leavesTrail with daisies and barleyDown the rivers of the windfall light.And as I was green and carefree, famous among the barnsAbout the happy yard and singing as the farm was home,In the sun that is young once only,Time let me play and beGolden in the mercy of his means,And green and golden I was huntsman and herdsman, the calvesSang to my horn, the foxes on the hills barked clear and cold,And the sabbath rang slowlyIn the pebbles of the holy streams.Here for the rest of "Fern Hill" by Dylan ThomasHere for "Summer Abroad" by the stunning Edward Bostitch.
"When you are close to nature you can listen to the voice of God" - Herman HesseMP3: Ray Charles - Drown In My Own Tears (Live)Youtube: Overdone Amazingness
"The redwoods, once seen, leave a mark or create a vision that stays with you always. No one has successfully painted or photographed a redwood tree. The feeling they produce is not transferable. From them comes silence and awe... Respect - that's the word. One feels the need to bow to unquestioned sovereigns..." - John Steinbeck, Travels With Charley MP3: Van Morrison - Redwood Tree