jpaulgorman

  One big bending bender blur, 279 miles in all: 27 from Alpine to Marfa, 61 from Marfa to Presidio, 66 from Presidio to Terlingua, 24 from Terlingua to Big Bend National Park Headquarters, 70 from Big Bend National Park Headquarters to Marathon, 31 from Marathon back to Alpine.  Twelve hours total, a hexagon when drawn out on a map.  A blast.  Scratchy radio, no glowreception, sun roof open, windows down.  Was a crispy cool, mid morning 53 degrees when I filled up my gas tank in Alpine. Took the familiar Hwy 90 to Marfa where I got a daytime look at the Mystery Lights area.  Armed with research and a closer inspection of the map, have concluded the lights to be a combination of automobiles, trains, and other explainable illuminations.  Nopal Road, Mitchell Road, FM 169, US 67, and the Texas Pacifico railroad line can all be seen from the viewing area at night, maybe 20 to 30 miles out.  Still freaky though, got their very own Bigfoot in Marfa....

I figured Pancho Villa would have been taller.  His life-size likeness at the Museum Of The Big Bend in Alpine was one of many highlights; another was a far out exhibit of Texas ariel photos painted over with shocking colors.  Dozens of them in a room all their own, the sun lighting the works through impressive windows.  Place was packed with history of the area, from the days before humans to now.  I spent the whole morning gawking, snapping photos, and reading all the small print.  Then a drive to the Davis Mountains and the McDonald Observatory.  Who knew of such a serious mountain range in Texas, but there it was.  I took the curving, exciting road up to the top and checked around.  Telescopes.  No telling what they see through those suckers, didn't get to look through them, they were shut down for routine calibration. With the sun moving down fast in the late Janurary afternoon, took the road to Marfa to investigate the famed mystery li...

  Em Whatcha see in those telescopes. Am Any Supernovas, any alien folks. Em As long as we avoid the asteroids. Am Don't get caught up in a black hole void. Wonder what the Lights of Marfa are. Maybe it's campfires, maybe it's cars. Flicker on and off, they move around. Since the 1800's, nothing's been found. (Chorus) D.                        Em They move around. D.                         Em Then they disappear. Am.                      Em Must be from space. Am.                       Em Must be from space. (Verse solo) Prolly some orbs, nothing to fear. A phenomenon of the atmosphere. Maybe it's ghosts, I don't know. But they sure put on a hell of a show. From Mick Jagger to King Of The Hill. Unsolved Mysteries tried to bust the ...

Settled in and oriented.  North, south, east, and west.  Dinner, billiards, and beers at the famed Holland Hotel led to a full night's sleep.  Alpine is located at the center of the Texas Hook, it's a worthy unofficial capital.  Natural beauty, higher education, rough elegance, striving people, railroads, beef. Next morning, drove 25 miles to Marfa, through the Paisano volcanoes.  Where James Dean was a Giant, where Mick Jagger had No Spare Parts, where McConaughey eats burritos.  Popped the bike off the rack and rode the whole town.  Colorful and rickety, transparent and remote, undertones of a clear class situation.  Minor, incompleted renovations everywhere, odd and tidy, murals of various quality. Took a thorn near Coffield City Park, got a flat tire and had to walk the bike back to Marfa Burrito.  Without any spare parts, found Big Bend Cycles where Earnest patched the lifeless tube back to life.  Retired from the Border Patrol afte...

Set out early, about when the sun announced the day.  Planned for a late afternoon arrival in Alpine, Texas, it was a solid 8 hours.  Packing went quick and light.  Essentials, mainly.  Warm clothes, sack of food, cooler of food, guitar, audio necessities, flashlight, Guy Clark biography, Trek Marlin 5, backpack, bike helmet, flip flops, and a few koozies. Everything else would be at the El Viejo Adobe, acquired for an extended stay, across from Sul Ross University.  Sort of a home base.  The pictures were promising, the place seemed an ideal spot for first trip to the Hook Of Texas.  Down west and low, where Big Bend looms large, where the dark sky frames each star in glory, through Farm to Market 1776--Revolution Road.  Near Marfa, and Presidio, and Marathon, near Lajitas. Only imaged the landscapes, only seen the pictures.  A place so far away, even most Texans haven't been, drive to the middle of space and time, and keep driving.  L...

DCG Wanna see a dark sky. Take over these tired eyes. These tired eyes. Chasing that dark sky. I'm bound to see it tonight. Oh yeah, tonight. CGG7 Every twinkle, like every wrinkle, seems another lonely trip. But every one, like all these songs, is just another gift. Gonna find a dark sky. Stars gonna shine their light. Shine their light. Dreaming bout a dark sky. Woke up about midnight. It was midnight. *co-written by Roger Brown.

Infested.  Have your gutter, float your sewer, suck your teeth.  Nibble on the edges, the trash cans and grease pits.  Get on the take, man.  Get real. Chatter chatter, it's a show, the buzz of larceny.  The weak squeaks of rodents in wait, knowing the eventual slumber of the masses.  Traps and poisons and baits, they've seen them all, they live on.  And will.  The revenge of the capital rat. For now, stay protected, seal up the cracks, sweep up the crumbs.  Those sniffers will move on, looking for easy scores.  Plenty of garbage to sift, scraps to lick.  This place is too doomy, this place is too gloomy.  Might as well party, might as well have tunes.   

Erase the saints of liberty.  Buy into your new heroes, ones with track marks and hair jelly.  People who cry and wail.  It's whine time in the chamber.  All called to order, echo, echo, echo. There's no one here, they booked the studio time months ago.  Close the doors like a permanent holiday, we don't care if your mail gets through.  Signed off on the budget months ago.  Got money to raise.  Never stops, the shakedown never stops, it's a numbers game. Contributions to foundations, donations to causes, dinner that costs 10 grand a plate.  Best chicken you ever ate, despite the rubbery mushrooms.  A few boring remarks from a capital rat about democracy and the public trust.  Oh goodie, a goodie bag.  Full of shit.

These are the insides, this is the pit of the stomach.  Where the food gets broken down.  The good stuff, absorbed.  The elements of life, squeezed tight.  Light the brain. Motivation comes first, the reason is next.  We are the independent angels, here to help, here to encourage your courage.  This monster is made of paper and masking tape.  Rip it up.  Wad it. Your bill is flat, thudded on the table, a weightless blob of nonsense.  An oily mess.  Dripping on the floor.  The buzzards wait their turn, they like that tire taste, they'll eat it off the dirty street.  No hassles, there's always plenty of scraps.

And a scene it was, the doctor lecture.  Keep your mind and body sharp, don't fall to the easy way, go the best way.  The best you know.  Repetition and laughter, hysterical and robust.  Grin. Out of the way old people, most of you have under a decade to live.  Maximum desperation, quit blaming our grandchildren, and their grandchildren.  Greed slime goos down your faces despite the injections.  Power puffed, enriched.  Gross. But you are not respectable or dignified.  Mostly, our capital proxys are cowardly and silent.  You dropped your gloves, you took a fall, you took a dive.  Got paid off.  Greased.

The great dissection of the madness, the money veins, the favored, the paid up, the shake for the capital shakers.  With their shakedown.  The professional government class, the smooth operators, the best greasers on earth.  Handlers and aides, they circle and circle.  Guards watch and whisper and point. Resign now, out of the way.  Your cover-up is uncovered.  Get back to your family, go do business, save the air, whatever the rationale.  Your time on the branch was a failure.  The snook came and snooked you good. Got put to sleep, tranquilized, pacified.  Rolled the dice and lost, trusted the greedy, the self righteous, the pompous.  Experts got bought off, even doctors.  Those book advances spend nice.  Manipulation on the cheap.

  Investigate each other, we don't care.  Meaningless at this point.  The sham is on display, this banana republic is about to get peeled.  Slip out while you can, it's gonna get slick quick.  Your gig is up, go peacefully, quietly, or not, either way. The poor poor people, woe is them, on behalf of all kind, rational peoples.  Let's all help poor people, even if you're poor, help the poor.  And the needy!  The needy people need us, even the poor need to help the poor needy people.  The banana farmers are looking out for themselves, they won't help. Until then, mute the airwaves, the soundwaves, and the glowwaves, there is no skipping out.  Time must occur.  Defiance and birds all the way, more of a fuck off than a fuck you.  End the wasting,  laugh them off.  Shrug.

That orbit you're on is different, let it ride.  Go back to the cruising mode.  There is no stopping the momentum, like an avalanche of tyranny.  Seen in open view, looking to bury the independent spirits.  Take a few with them as they melt away. But independent spirits won't stay under the dirt, they will not be confined.  Their thoughts are with them, they know and understand.  Our house will be cleaned by late fall.  Detailed, fumigated, purified.  Ratted out. Wining and dining the judges again, that capital eatery scene looks a bit stiff.  This is how it works, those robes are just for show.  More billing opportunities for the lawyers, the slow and lucrative justice industry.  Spin the wheel, get a prize.  Step right up.

Let's get past this past tension.  This is the easy road, the road that goes forever.  Turning, spiraling, speeding, airborne.  Through or around anything.  Probably anything. We won't know for sure, but scurry around to prove your points anyway, research, state facts, offer motives, determine.  Get your sleep.  Rest up for the adventure, the revolution is on.  Freedom is crispy cold.  Wake. Think of future versions, when the meds kick in, when the hypnotic glow mushes minds to mash, when liberty is rationed.  Take your time, demand it back, feel it.  No curfew, no alarm, no calls, no attention.  Let the capital babies cry it out, leave them in their capital crib, they'll eventually pass out.  They will give it up.

  Reality of the representation game.  Leading nothing but the fundraising charts, doing what they were bought to do.  Owned.  Little by little it all sells out.  Call the 1-800 number, sign up for a virtual townhall. That rumble you hear, those horns, that's the liberty calls.  Independent minds don't really believe the farce.  Not really.  They protect their brain's wiring, their common sense receptors remain open, they think their own thoughts.  They reason. The insiders ran the action, this we know.  Silence under oath says alot.  The staging was ideal, the red carpet was laid, evacuations proceeded.  No terms, no demands, a Capital tour of sorts.  One fatality, a tourist from California.

Please, please, for the sake of God itself.  This must end.  No more begging, silver tongue deviling, or declaring.  Do some ceremonies, feed some children, help some widows.  Quit blathering, drooling, and spitting on the citizens.  It's too creepy and pathetic to be sad. Unleashed, the people cannot be disrespected for long.  Our system accounts for little, feeble tyrants.  The weak and woke won't get in another sucker punch.  We'll see it coming this time, their jaws will crack. Quick left jab followed by a right hook. Weasels, go back to your holes.  Bore and bore.  Make a home for your dark winter.  Huddle around your small fire.  Eat your weak and young.