Do I *have* to like pastels, howling coyote pendants and indian feathers if I want to move to New Mexico? (Alamogordo: new home, place to live)
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When I lived back on the east coast, I have to admit I was sometimes put off by the people who came back talking about the Southwest as though it were the promised land, and weighed down with tons of turquoise, and riding a car with a dream catcher, etc.
But it really is pretty nice here, and not necessarily in the east coast Southwest fanatic sort of way.
Personally I'm not that drawn to a lot of the common Southwest signifiers, but I still find plenty of visual beauty here.
quote=UsernameBen;8777417]You guys have me totally figured out. First, I recommend you start the background music before reading on..it'll set the tone.
I was so completely flattened, crushed and blown away by your substantial internet wit that I had a dream, nay....a VISION last night.
Well, a vision is SUCH a spiritual thing that I can almost hear the rattles and smell the burning sage as I read this...I think you're getting closer to your goal of being absorbed by the magic of Nuevo Mexico and all it's green and red chile glory.
In this visionQUEST I was trapped in a gigantic pepto bismal colored 'dream' catcher festooned with dusty old feathers and spiderwebs. The skulls of unwitting internet noobs and old car parts knocked together as I struggled to escape. I would almost get free of the blasted net but two gaudy abstract men (?) with giant round heads and phallic symbols attached to their lips kept kicking my hands away from the ropes that held me. Vision QUEST? You were seeking this, grasshopper...very good.
But you've not seen the whole vision...a common trait of the Nuevo-bie. Let me fill you in a bit. You've tread a path well worn by seekers of Kokopelli...who is not just a flute player of some note (last 3 cd's have gone platinum), but also can be COYOTE, the trickster.........or Bubba the trucker, in some cases. What you saw as a dream catcher..round, stretched tight...pinkish...is actually a trampoline located in a shed at Ghost Ranch, Georgia O'Keefe's ancient lair up in Abiquiu. People don't know that Georgia was a world class trampoline performer in the 20's and early 30's, until her painting and marriage to Alfred Steiglitz took precedence as her notoriety spread. She was supposed to go to Berlin and the Olympics, but fame and a one woman show at Palace of the Governors interferred with her goal of walking into the Berlin stadium arm in arm with Jesse Owens and bouncing for democracy. She never lost her love for and skill on the trampoline however, though her being referred to by old-timers around the Santa Fe Plaza as a "tramp" was sometimes misconstrued or misunderstood. http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/3/3c/Stieglitz_okeeffe_1918_Corrected.jpg/200px-Stieglitz_okeeffe_1918_Corrected.jpg (broken link)
Her old sun faded, formerly red trampoline is still there in a large shed....adorned with eagle feathers, desert bleached bones and the exhaust system (in pieces) of Marsden Hartley's '37 Ford Pickup. It seems to attract spirits and dream seekers, for reasons only an unfolding flower or bleached elk skull can explain. It is said to be guarded by two Hopi Mudhead Katsina, which explains the rounded enlarged heads, but the phallic lips are not as easily dealt with. You were in a dreamlike state, so perhaps you projected this onto the scene...hmmmm? Who can say?
Imprisoned, I could do little else but weep as you each took turns piercing my writhing and bloodied body with your sardonic barbs and bashing my soft, leathery, premature eggshell skull with your brutish jests...until its soft yellow contents leaked dripping into the desert sage below.
Oh, the slings an arrows of outrageous fortune! Of course you were tormented...the mocking of the holy howlin' Coyote, the front-yard pickup truck (with washing machine), dreamcatchers, concha belts, Pinon incense and Kokopelli by the denizens haunting this site virtually guaranteed you a rough journey thru the Sixth Sun in which we live here in New Mexico. The spirits dislike being mocked, and so they make the path to Pastel Enlightenment and Chile con Carne (without frijoles) long and winding for the seeker of wisdom and the Truckstop Rubber Tommyhawk of life. Oh...and that yellow stuff leaking from your skull....wasn't mashed brains. Just a yoke on you.
I awoke in tears and vowed to venture back to the scene of the ghastly crime and ask you where you get such steely internet skin from?
What digital totem animal must I pray to so that I may, one day, hold the goblet of wit as you do, with weathered, cord like strength pulsing from my armoured lofty intellectual hands.
Dry your tears, seeker...you've endured the trampoline of O'Keefe, and if Georgia didn't reappear to bounce your spiritual butt off it, and if Robert Oppenheimer didn't show up to declare you an honorary " Baghavad-Gita destroyer of worlds"
you're well on your way to being welcomed to the state. She just handles the tough cases (just ask D H Lawrence, who stuck her with a bar tab at La Fonda and lived to regret it), so I imagine you're a handful, and Oppy is probably busy in the Middle East anyway.
Your digital totem must be your own, and it will appear to you when you are ready to receive it. My first was a Commodore 1000, but I'd suggest you lean toward something a little faster that can handle Linux if your given a choice. A keyboard that is enchilada-proof is a good idea also, again if you can choose.
And look closely...that "goblet of wisdom" has SALT on the rim.
Lastly, take into your heart what all New Mexicans ultimately learn: Never back into a cactus, it'll hurt you in the end (and give you a bad case of SCARcasm).
Bueno Suerte y Bienvenidos a Nuevo Mejico. Or Something
You guys take this whole 'internet thing' way too seriously in my opinion...while at the same time, completely failing to answer a serious question and turning the whole thing into a freak show and borderline argument.
There's an extremely fine line between 'scarcasm' ...and just being rude to the new guy.
"There's an extremely fine line between 'scarcasm' ...and just being rude to the new guy".
Last time I checked it was "sarcasm" not "scarcasm", so the line might actually be thinner or wider depending on how you look at it. Missing/adding a letter. Damn I hate when I have to explain it!
quote=UsernameBen;8777417]You guys have me totally figured out. First, I recommend you start the background music before reading on..it'll set the tone.
I was so completely flattened, crushed and blown away by your substantial internet wit that I had a dream, nay....a VISION last night.
Well, a vision is SUCH a spiritual thing that I can almost hear the rattles and smell the burning sage as I read this...I think you're getting closer to your goal of being absorbed by the magic of Nuevo Mexico and all it's green and red chile glory.
In this visionQUEST I was trapped in a gigantic pepto bismal colored 'dream' catcher festooned with dusty old feathers and spiderwebs. The skulls of unwitting internet noobs and old car parts knocked together as I struggled to escape. I would almost get free of the blasted net but two gaudy abstract men (?) with giant round heads and phallic symbols attached to their lips kept kicking my hands away from the ropes that held me. Vision QUEST? You were seeking this, grasshopper...very good.
But you've not seen the whole vision...a common trait of the Nuevo-bie. Let me fill you in a bit. You've tread a path well worn by seekers of Kokopelli...who is not just a flute player of some note (last 3 cd's have gone platinum), but also can be COYOTE, the trickster.........or Bubba the trucker, in some cases. What you saw as a dream catcher..round, stretched tight...pinkish...is actually a trampoline located in a shed at Ghost Ranch, Georgia O'Keefe's ancient lair up in Abiquiu. People don't know that Georgia was a world class trampoline performer in the 20's and early 30's, until her painting and marriage to Alfred Steiglitz took precedence as her notoriety spread. She was supposed to go to Berlin and the Olympics, but fame and a one woman show at Palace of the Governors interferred with her goal of walking into the Berlin stadium arm in arm with Jesse Owens and bouncing for democracy. She never lost her love for and skill on the trampoline however, though her being referred to by old-timers around the Santa Fe Plaza as a "tramp" was sometimes misconstrued or misunderstood.
Her old sun faded, formerly red trampoline is still there in a large shed....adorned with eagle feathers, desert bleached bones and the exhaust system (in pieces) of Marsden Hartley's '37 Ford Pickup. It seems to attract spirits and dream seekers, for reasons only an unfolding flower or bleached elk skull can explain. It is said to be guarded by two Hopi Mudhead Katsina, which explains the rounded enlarged heads, but the phallic lips are not as easily dealt with. You were in a dreamlike state, so perhaps you projected this onto the scene...hmmmm? Who can say?
Imprisoned, I could do little else but weep as you each took turns piercing my writhing and bloodied body with your sardonic barbs and bashing my soft, leathery, premature eggshell skull with your brutish jests...until its soft yellow contents leaked dripping into the desert sage below.
Oh, the slings an arrows of outrageous fortune! Of course you were tormented...the mocking of the holy howlin' Coyote, the front-yard pickup truck (with washing machine), dreamcatchers, concha belts, Pinon incense and Kokopelli by the denizens haunting this site virtually guaranteed you a rough journey thru the Sixth Sun in which we live here in New Mexico. The spirits dislike being mocked, and so they make the path to Pastel Enlightenment and Chile con Carne (without frijoles) long and winding for the seeker of wisdom and the Truckstop Rubber Tommyhawk of life. Oh...and that yellow stuff leaking from your skull....wasn't mashed brains. Just a yoke on you.
I awoke in tears and vowed to venture back to the scene of the ghastly crime and ask you where you get such steely internet skin from?
What digital totem animal must I pray to so that I may, one day, hold the goblet of wit as you do, with weathered, cord like strength pulsing from my armoured lofty intellectual hands.
Dry your tears, seeker...you've endured the trampoline of O'Keefe, and if Georgia didn't reappear to bounce your spiritual butt off it, and if Robert Oppenheimer didn't show up to declare you an honorary " Baghavad-Gita destroyer of worlds"
you're well on your way to being welcomed to the state. She just handles the tough cases
(just ask D H Lawrence, who stuck her with a bar tab at La Fonda and lived to regret it), so I imagine you're a handful, and Oppy is probably busy in the Middle East anyway.
Your digital totem must be your own, and it will appear to you when you are ready to receive it. My first was a Commodore 1000, but I'd suggest you lean toward something a little faster that can handle Linux if your given a choice. A keyboard that is enchilada-proof is a good idea also, again if you can choose.
And look closely...that "goblet of wisdom" has SALT on the rim.
Lastly, take into your heart what all New Mexicans ultimately learn: Never back into a cactus, it'll hurt you in the end (and give you a bad case of SCARcasm).
Bueno Suerte y Bienvenidos a Nuevo Mejico. Or Something
You guys take this whole 'internet thing' way too seriously in my opinion...while at the same time, completely failing to answer a serious question and turning the whole thing into a freak show and borderline argument.
There's an extremely fine line between 'scarcasm' ...and just being rude to the new guy.
Carry on, I'm not really hurt or whatever.
Thank you for the well thought out post...and the sense of humor.
This was great fun.
Did a little research and found a Katchina, not a Hopi one, that was in favor back in the early 1900's called the Stogi, that seemed to always appear with something sticking out of the mouth. So that explains the phallic objects on their lips. Whew...your symbolic dreams are off the hook on that one.
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Who can say?
