Tuesday, May 07, 2013

Today the AZT followed dirt roads through the forest with swarms of locusts buzzing around. My brain did the calculations: Locusts = plague of locusts, four cowboys = four horsemen. Clearly the apocalypse has begun. I considered writing a novel about a hiker who misses a plague and the mass death of all humanity because she’s in the wilderness, hiking the AZT. ‘Huh, it appears that everyone in Flagstaff is dead… well, that happens.’ The story would seem to be a dark comedy, but would actually be a poignant, tragic examination of the randomness of life as demonstrated by the survival of an idiot during the mass death of the intelligentsia (along with people who built bomb shelters in their backyards and wore tinfoil hats).

Forest, forest, more forest. Give me something different please, even if it’s just a hill rather than the flat and endless roads. I was bored and getting silly. I saw a flash of gold in the forest and thought ‘what if it’s the golden bough?’ and went to see what it was: a cluster of yellow leaves. I considered writing a novel about a hiker who finds the golden bough on the AZT. It would appear to be a charming urban fantasy, but would actually be a poignant, tragic examination of the faults in rulership via inheritance.

It’s a wonder that I didn’t get lost today. Is anyone now wondering in which way this journal is poignant and tragic? Man, I hope I don’t die.

Finding a camping spot was a struggle again. There’s nowhere tempting here and lots of cow droppings.