Hey, anyone want to forge my ex's signature on a quit claim or whatever the hell, so I can become the proud sole owner of all that scrub dirt I've been paying taxes on for the last ten years? No? Just kidding.
Ten acres in the butt-end of Colorado, nothing there but antelopes and coyotes and sagebrush, and the water table's below 100 feet of rock so no one lives out there except hippies, and the closest town is Fort Garland, CO, pop-a-lation 12, I think. There's a Texaco station and a diner, and you have to drive to Alamosa to hit anything real, which is just sad. Or go over the La Veta pass, or head back to San Luis, which is not a bad little place, they have a couple of bars and a school. I loved camping out there in the valley, surrounded by nothing at all. You can see volcano peaks in the distance and Mt Blanca, which is this fucking huge mountain not too far from the Sand Dunes National Park. A coyote peeked into my tent once, when I was there, and the stars have this cool yet disturbing habit of shooting abruptly across the sky on the coldest and darkest nights, but I haven't been there in seven years, so I don't know if anything's the same.
Hey! Anyone want some land, cheap? Now that I've talked it up. Come on! There's electricity within a mile! You can guerilla-pipe some water in from the alfalfa spread down the highway! It's very, very quiet, except when the wind blows, which is ALL THE FRICKIN' TIME. Wind mills, totally the way to go, and I'll even help build you a house out of straw bales and put in your garden, although no tomatoes, because the growing season's too short. We can drive down to Taos just for fun, and eat amazing food at the Guadalajara Grill, and see if they still brew their own beer at Eske's. It'll be great. Maybe we'll hear the Taos Hum. No, you pervs, that is NOT a sexual technique. Tch.
Okay, JC needs to get off his ass and do something. I'm getting wiggy over here.
Off to do laundry AGAIN. What the fuck?