This first sentence is an apology for the quality of this blog post. I've been a mile high for two weeks, and oxygen hasn't reached my brain since North Dakota. I just moved to Denver on a whim. I was told there were mountains here, and I can testify that that is not true. There is only a haze of smoke California fires (or marijuana) masking anything that might be a mountain.
I went from living in a one-bedroom apartment with a cat to a house that's being remodeled with three adults, a five year-old, a dog and two cats. I wake up to Alex tickling me, the dog whining at my bedside, Pajamas hissing at the dog, and the other cat doing laps around the room. I love it. And the other day I hit my head on the corner of a windowsill really hard, so I might have a concussion, but without health insurance I'll just have to tough it out.
We live in a town full of old people, homeless people, and junkies. Just the kind of seedy riffraff I can get along with. I have ridden my bike. I have gone to Torchy's Tacos. And I have met with some other writers. I have not taken the time to photograph the copious amounts of graffiti here. (Because I'm lazy). I have been up into the mountains zero times and counting, and I'm starting a fling with a 23 year-old unemployed meditation instructor who's driving across the country in a Honda CRV with 103,000 miles on it. I told him to check the oil.
I'll be working as a FedEx delivery driver pending a background check, but with my shady past, I don't know it will work out. I'll be fine if they don't dig up my blog. On that note, I don't do drugs, I've never killed anyone, I'm not a sex offender, and I've never even been arrested. I ran over a raccoon with my car one time in college, but I think most people are okay with that considering the Great Rabies Epidemic of 2011 when the offense took place.
So, yes, I sort of just up and left. Some of my Minnesota friends believe I left Minnesota to go looking for something that I'll never find. Others think I might be running from something. I won't say if either of those is true, because maybe even I don't know the answer. But not all who wander are lost. I may not be moving up in the world, unless you mean literally in which case I am about a mile high. I drove by a sign in Northglenn that said Elevation: 5280ft. For those of you who have not seen Remember the Titans, that is exactly one mile. But I would never say I'm moving onwards and upwards. More just onwards and sideways. Same shit different state. Same clothes, same cat, same car, same sort of rigmarole.
Catfish in the Mud
I went to Namibia and took a tour of Sossusvlei, where it hasn't rained in 6 years. The river is completely dried up. My guide told me that even in the six-year drought, catfish are hibernating deep down in the mud and will surface again when the rains come back and restore life to the desert. I didn't believe him at first, like I didn't believe in the mysterious fairy circles on the dunes. But now the idea of catfish in the mud has become a metaphor for the things trapped on the inside and down below that wait for the rains to give them some vigor and life. Catfish in the Mud is a pretty standard millennial blog in which I say mostly nothing in about 300 words.