Last night I had a vodka and red bull before going to bed, then I had a dream that I with several other members of the finest intellectual salon in all Nebraska rode bicycles from Lincoln to Scottsbluff, Ne. There was nothing interesting about the journey itself except that we made the 400 mile trip uphill toward the divide in a single day. Once there we bounded like giants, walking several miles in a matter of time across the transitional mix of flat prairie land & sudden rock hill or canyon. In every depressed canyon and every tall rock there was a giant bonfire and massive amounts of liquor which we all indulged in heedlessly, engaging in various sexual confusions that I was somehow able to perceive though I did not dream those directly.
There's something about the looming of Spring that draws me towards the West. It's the smell I think. It's something that I could not possibly describe to you if you haven't experienced yourself. Literally hundreds of miles of newborn grass. trillions of spores.