the next day. after another one, or two, or three. one monsoon. sending barrels full of rain. for some short time. desert rain. sweet waves of nose-filling pungence come on the breeze that preceeds or announces a distant storm, and explodes in the minutes after a downpour. and, full of deLight, Loki dances in the chill water as it falls. from the wetness of the ice lands in the north, the desert lack is hard to take. on the drive from Denver to Prescott, we took advantage of the nice spring right outside of Moab to refill water bottles and wet-down to cool off with evaporative chilling.

time. Elizabeth queries me: "are you coming back from europe, or is this "the move"? I tell her it's an oscillation. between the red rock canyons, the sage, the roaming thunderheads, and, on the other side, cultcha.

paying the price for an escape from the highlands at the end of a long holiday weekend. about 7 hours for a 4-hour drive, stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic all the way from Dillon to Idaho Springs. starting before noon. shhhheeeeee-it!

a long day starting with a pancake breakfast. Mount Carbon looms over the cabin, 1000 meters vertical and about 3 km. away, a near-conical peak, at least viewed from the cabin. determining the right approach aside from a direct frontal attack was an exercise in reading topology and collaborative human map-reading, but we eventually got to the right starting point, on an old Denver South Park and Pacific railroad grade from mining times, herding the kids was relatively easy, but after a protracted obstacle-course through and around fallen trees on the forest floor of the main approach, a drainage couloir, combined with the mosquitoes, and word from returning hikers that we were just half-way with the steepest ascent ahead, we gave up and returned to the cabin. missing the peak is always a let-down for us strivers, but missing the view was the biggest disappointment for me -- just to see the surrounding terrain, from that 360 point-of-view.

after dinner came the Gunnison fireworks, rumored to be quite elaborate. instead of attending the formal spectacle within the Western State College (small) stadium, we decided to just join the rabble situated in the empty lots, and other random locations in the surrounding neighborhood, staking a stretch of grass near a playground. clearly there was a complex nationalistic happening in the stadium, given the pregnant pauses and apparent choreography to the ground-level and aerial fireworks, but it was worth the wait for the big boomers that cut loose directly over us.

(Alex makes this picture for Loki and I before we head to Boulder). here at the cabin. for the third or fourth time. a nice coincidence on this summer's pilgrimage to Colorado. arriving after the drive down Uncompaghre to Blue Mesa and into Gunnison. air blue-orange-hazed from the large fires burning in Arizona. back still stoved, toothache dwindling, but only one more day of the second round of the doxycycline. hoping it stops the pain. it's been a constant drag on things since it first started in Helsinki almost 7 weeks ago. the groaning ache moves my being to an other state where any gentle presence doesn't arise and absence (focused activities of any nature) is a good thing. but even still, it intrudes in a grinding grumbling shrill manner when least desired. it comes back every some time. what is this? a visit to yet another dentist seems to be unavoidable. next week in Phoenix. or this week in Boulder even. sheesh.

keeps life in a certain state that is generally angular.

but so nice to be here in the cabin. such a luxury to hang with Chris and Scharmin and the kids. exploring the abandoned mining cabins with Loki, Alex, and Sonja, looking for treasures. try to lure the horses down the hill to feed them grass, fly the kites, talk, eat. and above all, absorb the fantastic environment, a singular setting the Colorado is replete with. few stars tonight, though, between the smoke haze and the near-full moon. tomorrow the 4th of July fireworks.

finally broke down and bought a copy of Geert's book and was pleased with his working of the New Media Education chapter. trying to ready new material for the Overgaden Sound Festival which I am co-curating with Björn, though I haven't been too busy. at least with that, more, all the other things coming up in the immediate future -- RAM6 in Vilnius, the residency in Akureyri, the Matchmaking Festival workshop in Trondheim, several video festivals to submit the new dvd to, logistics, spring schedules beginning to be made, taxes to be finished, some texts to write, and all the other stuff that is always hanging there, like this web space. as it creeps toward its ten-year anniversary.

the 4th of July weekend starts up. a cold night, clear, almost full moon, and without the fly on the tent, it's bright and chilly inside. up at 0700 to stash the tent in the back of the truck and head out. the drive up 535 and the West Dolores River is pure Colorado. we stop for breakfast in a high meadow below Lizard Head Peak (at 13,113 feet), a 5-point stag wanders across the greenery in front of the car. the route then passes near Telluride, another one of those monetary vortices on Colorado, with multi-million-dollar homes blotted around the landscape. then through Ridgeway, in dry Piñon country. a stop at the Natural Food Store, a laid-back place, opened right at 10 am when we arrived, the whole business is for sale, hmmm, an interesting opportunity. then on up into the Uncompaghre National Forest. we find a pull-off near Cimarron Fork rather than staying in a campground. skies are showing flows of high-altitude smoke from what must be large and hot fires to the south west. most likely Arizona fires have spread and increased in number. the sky to the southwest fades to a reddish-grey behind Lizard Head and Dolores Peak and there is deep atmospheric haze everywhere.

we are near the road, and as this is the Friday before the most popular summer holiday weekend, there is constant traffic of ATV's, RV's, jeeps, and motocross bikes. why no mufflers on the motocross bikes? I'd like to pipe the exhaust manifold through the riders' ears instead, using the vacuous cavity between the ears as a resonant chamber.

the west is in my blood. despite any anger, fear, happiness, success, or whatever. but anyway, can't really speak here about be-ing.

Loki reads The Lord of the Rings aloud last night before bed, and now again this afternoon.