May. 20, 2004,16:57
Finally, an update.
It's been busy for me, as of late. I am not anymore longer constantly around to update this thing, and even so, I am not currently writing anything to update. I am running out of words, or poems, or collections of words, and this is okay. That's how it feels right now. I have been working a lot, out in the field. I have a lot of cool pictures. There is a link to this website I am posting those pictures to, a few entries back.
Yesterday I saw my first rattlesnake. I almost stepped on it! I knew, that it was inevitable, that if I spend enough time out there, I will run into a rattlesnake, or many. If I would have stepped on it, that would not be good. I am in the middle of the desert, and the closest hospital is in Las Vegas, about 2 hours away. A rattlesnake bite would probably be fatal. I had been psyching myself up for this event, for about a month now. And everything that moves, I think (and even hope) that it might be a rattler, but to no avail. Until yesterday. It wasn't even a big one, only 5 years old, or so. Big enough to hurt, though. Well, babies have more potent venom, so I guess its size doesn't matter that much. But anyways, it was really nice, and in a friendly mood. It barely rattled at me, because I think we startled eachother, as our paths crossed. It curled into a sagebrush shrub, and I just smiled at it. But, they hide so well, I just as easily could have stepped on it. And that would have been my life. I've already thought about it, and I would just try to react calmly, if bitten. And try to drive to Vegas, call the ambulance to meet me on the way, in case I don't make it. And then I don't know what. I really like snakes though. Especially rattlers. I would never kill one, unless it was a danger to other people.
After a long day of working out in the sun, I came back to my hotel, then I went to eat at the local cafe in Pioche, Nevada. I am working just west of Pioche. I saw down to watch the game, and met this old man, who is a regular. The waitresses always call him "Gray", so I guess that is his name. He talks to me, and I am usually silent, but not unfriendly. Last night, we were watching the Kings vs. the T Wolves, and he said, "How long do you think it takes to get his hair like that?" (In reference to Latrell Spreewell's braids). I had to adjust my ear's to pick up "old man" speak, because to the untrained ear, it might be somewhat hard to interpret. I replied to him, "I dunno, but it must have taken hours, judging by how small the braids were" and little did he know, that I myself, once had braids put in my hair. Just once. I really didn't like it. Then I told him, "They probably help channel the sweat", and I was thinking logically, because that physically makes sense, and to this, Gray laughed heartily. I was surpised, because 1. I never have heard him laugh, and 2. I wasn't trying to be funny, but its a common occurence that my seemingly logical thought would incur such laughter and I should get used to it by now because it happens more frequently than I acknowledge. Gray then asked me if I ever played basketball, and I said, yeah, and he asked if it was when I was in school, and I said yeah. So I asked him back, and he said he did also. I figured that's why he asked. Then he stated, "That was 60 some-odd years ago", and all I could think was wow. I didn't know he was that old. "On the ninth of next month, I will be 82 years old. I don't really think about how I got this old. I just go day-to-day", he told me. I replied with, "It just happened?", and he nodded. I asked him what he does there, and he told me he was a saddle maker, but had been a cowboy his whole life. He was born in St. George, Utah, and now he makes saddles for a living in Pioche. Who knows how people get to where they go, where their road ends, but Gray's road has taken him to the small mining town of Pioche, where I happen to be working. And he comes every morning and every night, around the same time, to be fed.
Yesterday I saw my first rattlesnake. I almost stepped on it! I knew, that it was inevitable, that if I spend enough time out there, I will run into a rattlesnake, or many. If I would have stepped on it, that would not be good. I am in the middle of the desert, and the closest hospital is in Las Vegas, about 2 hours away. A rattlesnake bite would probably be fatal. I had been psyching myself up for this event, for about a month now. And everything that moves, I think (and even hope) that it might be a rattler, but to no avail. Until yesterday. It wasn't even a big one, only 5 years old, or so. Big enough to hurt, though. Well, babies have more potent venom, so I guess its size doesn't matter that much. But anyways, it was really nice, and in a friendly mood. It barely rattled at me, because I think we startled eachother, as our paths crossed. It curled into a sagebrush shrub, and I just smiled at it. But, they hide so well, I just as easily could have stepped on it. And that would have been my life. I've already thought about it, and I would just try to react calmly, if bitten. And try to drive to Vegas, call the ambulance to meet me on the way, in case I don't make it. And then I don't know what. I really like snakes though. Especially rattlers. I would never kill one, unless it was a danger to other people.
After a long day of working out in the sun, I came back to my hotel, then I went to eat at the local cafe in Pioche, Nevada. I am working just west of Pioche. I saw down to watch the game, and met this old man, who is a regular. The waitresses always call him "Gray", so I guess that is his name. He talks to me, and I am usually silent, but not unfriendly. Last night, we were watching the Kings vs. the T Wolves, and he said, "How long do you think it takes to get his hair like that?" (In reference to Latrell Spreewell's braids). I had to adjust my ear's to pick up "old man" speak, because to the untrained ear, it might be somewhat hard to interpret. I replied to him, "I dunno, but it must have taken hours, judging by how small the braids were" and little did he know, that I myself, once had braids put in my hair. Just once. I really didn't like it. Then I told him, "They probably help channel the sweat", and I was thinking logically, because that physically makes sense, and to this, Gray laughed heartily. I was surpised, because 1. I never have heard him laugh, and 2. I wasn't trying to be funny, but its a common occurence that my seemingly logical thought would incur such laughter and I should get used to it by now because it happens more frequently than I acknowledge. Gray then asked me if I ever played basketball, and I said, yeah, and he asked if it was when I was in school, and I said yeah. So I asked him back, and he said he did also. I figured that's why he asked. Then he stated, "That was 60 some-odd years ago", and all I could think was wow. I didn't know he was that old. "On the ninth of next month, I will be 82 years old. I don't really think about how I got this old. I just go day-to-day", he told me. I replied with, "It just happened?", and he nodded. I asked him what he does there, and he told me he was a saddle maker, but had been a cowboy his whole life. He was born in St. George, Utah, and now he makes saddles for a living in Pioche. Who knows how people get to where they go, where their road ends, but Gray's road has taken him to the small mining town of Pioche, where I happen to be working. And he comes every morning and every night, around the same time, to be fed.