… So I was shirtless. Doing push-ups on a big ass rock. In the middle of the Mojave Dessert. I was 16. I was hot. I was high.
I had snuck some contraband in my back-pack. I Rolled it in a piece of paper from a corner store brown bag, and smoked…
Because I knew the counselors would check on me at sunrise and sunset, I had to smoke in the middle of the day. We were on a 3- day “solo” where we were not to interact with another human being for 72 hours. This was only a portion of the larger 28 day backpacking trip through the Mojave Desert, which you know my inner-city-bread-Black-ass wouldn’t have done if it wasn’t a graduation requirement for the white-ass-suburban school I attended.
I’ll stop here, let you digest that…
Now back to the portrait of the chicken chested teenager doing push-ups in the middle of Death Valley: I stopped after a couple of sets, I turned to the left, and all at once: I realized the stones on the hillside were laid in the pattern of individual faces. Little faces looking up to God(s)…That was the highest I have ever been.
Now that I’ve told you that, we can talk for real…the traditional method of this blogging business calls for a bio, links to previous work, and an annoying low-budget video…and we’ll get to that… but first and foremost, while I have your undevided attention, I’d like to introduce:
Penn’s Station: a place to laugh and learn.
” Hi-Times in the Valley of Death”, this story is utter entertainment evertime I tell someone the afforementioned… and pure enlightenment when I countinue…
I learned 3 things out there
1. never leave your life in the hands of any man.
2. the story of the hero’s journey (more info to come)