sky blue sky

Hi everyone.
I miss you all terribly. Just kidding. I hate you all.
Just kidding.
It looks as tho we are all in very different places, doing different things but still keeping closely connected via that undescribably vibrating electricity within the holy bones of our souls, it keeps us as one. Which, I beleive, is the perfect reason why we must fully put Heather's ideas into real life. Not that we are not all, in our own isolated ways, already doing everything Beattily possible to reach whatever goal it is that lies misty and glowing in our shared horizon. But together! Heather speaks the truth, the crimson blushing truth! On the banks of quiet rivers we must lie, all of us, breathing the proper mountain air we all know and love so well. Anyways.
Things are okay for me down here in extravagant Santa Cruz, where the homeless act unabatedly homeless (as well as the non-homeless), the sticky smell of marijuana vapor hangs heavy in the streets, and the college students bask in their eternal flaunted cool. I have my complaints, but I love it here. Stan and I are pretty much married. Its a little ridiculous, but I love the fool. He's influenced me to learn to cook, which we do, and do often, and do well. And always at the same time. Our shared romantic meals, moonlit. Also we are creating and writing and musicalizing constantly, always squeezing the perpetually wet braing-rags we hold so dear within our cranium capsules, all day and nite, never searching for ladies or cheap thrills, and i love it. There is nothing like constantly using all you have to create and think and see and become from all you see and do! Even with my dull and redundant job looming in my daily future, I still love and live the life I wish to be living. Which is always satisfying, keeps you stable and sane. WHich I'm doing more thoroughly lately than I ever have I think.
But mostly I miss the road. I miss Minnesota's pink sun and green grassy carpets. I miss Memphis gunpoint. I miss New Orleans and it's salty humidity, it's brown Mississippi river waves and banks, it's spicy food smells floating thru the streets like elegant boats thru VEnice. I miss St. Louis and clean streets and hazy horizons from 600 some-odd feet up. I miss the rich suburbs of CHicago, even, Evanston on the banks of Lake Michigan, lying the white sand kicking feet around. I miss MOntana most, of course, it's bleak mining towns and mystical mist lumping like traffic on the lush green hills, the wet black dirt and the slippery treetrunks, you all have no idea the beauty which Montana holds sacredly spinning within the palm of it's heart. There really is something ethereal about it, something shiny and dull all at once. Beautiful, gloomy, creepy and overwhelming, steals the air from your lungs and puts it back sparkling so quick you never knew it was gone. Forever changed I am.
Ya'll have no idea how much I love life on the road. I could do it forever. I could never stop. I just might need some of you with me.
Well, I'm'a gonna type some typage or draw some pictoralage or somethin before I go to work later at 6. Hope I can see everyone soon. I know I will.
Mikie, Matt, let's plan a snowboarding trip the day or the next day after Christmas. Anyone else can come too, and buy 8 dollar garlic fries and bread bowls at the legendary Kirkwood lodge where the putrid athlete sweat is almost pleasant.
love joey.