I’m still prancing about like a trippy hippie in my personal Anti-Telecommunications Revolution, so the most sincere apologies to anyone trying to contact me via electronic means. I give myself approximately fifteen minutes a day in front of my home computer, which isn’t nearly enough time to cut down on the stack of correspondence that a more motivated person would lovingly address. Why, I believe there are now upwards of five emails I need to reply to. FIVE. WOW.
Contacting me via phone is no better, really, because I’m still not answering it regularly, and if you’ve left a voicemail I probably haven’t checked it. Or if I have checked it, I’ve nodded and said something like, “ooh ($yourname)!” and left it at that. Again, I feel the love, and I send the love back, but currently I’m massaging my sunburn and tying a rope around my ears and grooving out to a Blackalicious disc I stole from the gym, and I’m sure you understand.
Honestly, I’ve been running so hard the last few weeks that I just don’t feel like carving out the time to play with the age’s latest tools of communication. Summer is definitely here, and my leg is more or less healed, and there’s a great grand world out there that needs to roll around in the grass and share some lovin’.
If ya really wanna get ahold of the ol’ Daner, you’ll have the best luck if you just stand in front of me and start talking. I climb every Tuesday and Thursday night at the Gym, or at Smith Rock if we’ve got a gang goin’ out, or at Meadowcamp if we’re strapped for time. I’ve also got everything I need for my slack line, so you can find me strapped between two trees in Drake Park every Monday and Wednesday (unless I’m out bowling for bloggers).
My GPS coordinates get thrown all wonky on the weekends, depending on whether we’re whoopin’ it up in Portland, jammin’ at music festivals in the hills, losing control in Hood River, or chillin’ out in Bend. Now that I’m walking again I need to tune up my camping gear and start hittin’ the trails in this area, hook up with some rugged folk, and eventually climb some fucking mountains. I also picked up a great mountain biking trail map from Webcyclery, and there’s all sorts of tasty singletrack out there that I wanna go chew on.
So that’s that. Things have been super mega frickin’ ultra cool lately, and it’s shaping up to be a glorious colorful summer. This weekend I’m grounded in Bend cleaning up a few things (and setting up slack lines and reading books in the park and visiting the bike shop and getting sunburned), but next weekend I’ll probably run up to Hood River to get the ol’ killboard out and hit the River for the first time this season.
It’s been a long time in coming, but there’s no doubt in my mind that the whole big thing is finally beginning to coalesce in its own crazy way. There’s so much to do, so much to see, and so many people to meet. All of a sudden I feel like I’ve finally escaped the Earth’s gravitational pull, and from here on out my trajectory can do nothing but accelerate. There is no clear map for the journey ahead, but there are core passions and beliefs that will be indespensible in finding the path. So long as I’m tuned in to the right internal murmurs, we’ll all pull out of this thing just fine.