Another poo to fix everything?

Three more days with Matt and Easterly. Things gotten a little bit weird, what with all the plane ticket shenanigans, and them starting to be a little bit frayed. Perhaps itchy feet. Perhaps that thing that happens when you’re two weeks away from home. Perhaps not enough to do around here. Perhaps a little too much under one another’s feet.

But still, Matt made it up the canyon finally, all barefoot and shirtless, and that was pretty glorious. We talked about stuff, including my writing, and he encouraged that idea of walking up the canyon with solar panel and computer. But then this morning I read again about Shawn’s “way down the line” reading and I wonder...

What will Carolyne’s coming signify? What of my draining of my Mexican bank account? What will I do come May, when all visits and notions of future are over? On t’table are: Montreal (random, unlikely); mainland (finally); peyote desert (possible); England (what!); and the unknown.

Probably I’ll go up canyon for the two days between these guys and Carolyne. Or maybe I’ll head over to Cabo and play tennis and chess with Philipp.

I’m a strange bird. A bird who doesn’t really need to plan. A free bird who can take it one day at a time.

Soon I’ll be shod of the car. Soon I’ll be back to merely carrying my load. Soon I’ll be away from these hot springs, I suppose, and the headaches of old Canadian women, and Mexicans charging me endless money for my walks in nature.

Up the canyon feels different to by the hot springs. Don’t know why I haven’t spent so much time there, when that was always where I used to go.

Because I’m lonely, I guess. Because I got into my ‘pool boy’ role. Because I knew sitting by the hot tubs would bring more people into my life.

But where did I meet Shawn and Lindsay and Shane? Up the canyon, right? Didn’t need no hot springs soaks and sifting through endless Californians to land those guys.

Though there were no hot springs then. And, in any case, it’s all immaterial: what’s done is done. Tied to El Chorro because of car and phone and computer. Technology no improvement on my life. A pile of comedies and movies – almost all of which I’ve already seen – providing means to fill the time, prevent thought and feeling from arising, and keep me here longer.

If I’m watching Stewart Lee, wonderful though he is, surely I must be bored?

Well, we knew that already. We’ve known that since early March, a good six weeks ago – pretty much the same length of time I first spent in the canyon, when so much happened.

Oh yes, how life changes.

I need a poo. A poo sorted me out the other day: maybe it’ll do the same today.

Hope so.