Waiting, counting down; where does consciousness come from?

With dogears at the door and the Malaise-ian flu [which does not bode well for anyone…]

spreading to Linda as her only tangible anniversary present you won’t find the answer here.

In my ongoing delirium the periodic fever dream of a specifically equipped hardly-used Tundra to replace my similarly outfitted hard-used Tundra resurfaced, thanks largely to an internet search which turned up the unlikely appearance of not one but two apparently exact matches

as close as a Denver lot called Georgi’s, leading me to solicit bids to deliver such a vehicle to California, and got many.

In the meantime, everyone illin’, it fell to me to drive

to Gardner’s provisional post office Tuesday before walking the crits

before the thaw turned to mud which by the end of a long sunny afternoon it definitely had.

An afternoon Libre gate picture such as this usually indicates a UPS delivery

to the box [see above] of something that might freeze in the night very much like acrylic paint.

As a day or so later it seemed we’d be going to Denver after all I called to inquire after those perfectly configured Tundras but had no answer so emailed and waited to likewise no avail,

eventually following L’s advice to at least check their references and oboy…the overwhelmingly damning reviews indicated these guys dealt predominantly in suspect salvaged vehicles with suspicious titles and horrible [if any] service.  My favorite was one potential customer who said when he showed up three menacing guys just glared at him…a mobbed-up chop shop.

I backed out of those dreams and Thursday while we were at Toyota in Pueblo talked to a sales

rep about keeping an eye out although by then I already had mine on another [perfectly configured] ’06, a little spendy and 1200 miles away but, um, maybe. Anyway under low chill winter skies the town was at its seediest as we ran our errands, paid a last visit to Jorge’s

for our usuals and turned south on 25, the usual…Exit 56, Red Rocks Road,

Highway 69

and home within the hour; low skies, low lights, low life.

A week left…

trending way unusually windy

only to surprise everyone with flurries at the end of a low-lain day

which blew off to dust by Saturday’s morning,

counting down.

 

 

10 thoughts on “Waiting, counting down; where does consciousness come from?

  1. Ann

    Mystery upon mystery.
    Hope you are all feeling well very soon!
    Jorge’s seems a welcome constant… wishing to teleport every time.

    Reply
  2. Kirk Moore

    Exquisitely tasty photos of Huerfano winter light, changing weather and Jorge’s non-existent leftovers! I guess I’d have to order both camarones AND the pork/avo burritos! Sorry about debilitating diseases, the mobster Tundra disappointment and tenacious anniversary guilt. Bummers. Hopefully those will all soon be forgotten low points on your roller coaster of consciousness. Dog ears shadow, sunset clouds and Hwy 69 triptych are my favorites.

    Reply
  3. g. renfrow

    Where does any thing come from?

    “It’s complicated. On the one hand we’re killer apes,
    and on the other hand we have this metaphysical
    longing.”
    — Simon Critchley

    (I better go back and re-read your commentary.)

    Reply
  4. Janet Whitchurch

    Where does consciousness come from indeed. Especially after using the toilet at 4am and lying in bed trying to sleep with a consciousness clamorously filled with visual images and thoughts!…and not just when I have a fever or the flu.
    I am reading a book about some guys crossing Siberia on the train in the winter and their descriptions of weather aren’t too different from yours; there was a very neat segue from the book to the blog.

    Reply
    1. mikesmoore Post author

      “Especially after using the toilet at four a.m.”, yes…uncontrollable looping plans for things that haven’t happened yet being a speciality.

      Reply

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