Mojave, Joshua, Jack and Us
Hello. I’m at a cafe in Joshua Tree in the Mojave Desert, about to eat a bunch of beans and eggs and polenta and coleslaw and drink a whole lot of coffee. I know some of you are in America that read this, well, at least one of you because I met a girl called Sarah at a show here who said she reads Cool Perth Nights and was a real sweetheart. And I know some of you won’t be interested in travel stories of someone random, but for those of you who are interested and want to know, here are some of my favourite things about this land.
Last night we were camping in Joshua Tree National Park. Our tent was there under a massive bolder, or family of boulders and under those boulders I dreamed all night about friends including Nathalie from Dianas who was happy and covered in sunlight as always, and about making friends with a Donkey who wrestled me and wanted to be hugged the whole time and charged at me in love when I tried to take a break. You can listen to Dianas if you like, I recommend it.
So our tent was under the big rock and above the big rock it was NIGHT. There were streams of cloudy light all emanating from behind the rock and also behind the rock was hidden that MOON. Jil was in the tent sleeping off the sickness and the boys were by the fire and when I looked across at them from a little way off it was the best scene I’ve ever seen. Their faces and forms, lit up by the fire and one little lantern we together managed to hang from a white whittled spear of wood, and the one Joshua Tree that leaned a little way over towards us but mainly leaned upwards to the big night. Night and day come from the sky, everything else is the same on the earth, that’s why there’s no reason to be scared.
So we sat by the fire and I wished for everyone to be quiet and so a voice said in my spirit “Be Brave” and so I said “How do you feel about a few minutes of just listening to the place?” and that’s the voice that will say “Be Brave” for much harder things than saying my mind to my friends, but it’s all practice for the bigger tasks of making the world like you know it’s really meant to be. So as well as the conversations about Hesse and Jung and eating chocolate sauce of the breasts of someone else’s girlfriend as a 13 year old, there was some reading of Jack Kerouac’s ‘Dharma Bums’. Kerouac can be a jerk at times, and sometimes I roll my eyes when he talks about his dream life that seems to require not working but still relies on the work and provision of others, or spit on the ground in my mind when he talks about women or doesn’t even mention them, but MAINLY the main feeling was this was just exactly the place to listen to his feelings about the exact places where we were or had been, California, all the wild nature that doesn’t seem possible with this many people living on it but somehow is.
We’d driven through the desert all that day, abandoned houses, fields and fields of nothing but tiny desert fauna, the kind of places that to my eyes are perfect but might perhaps to others seem like desolation or barren lonely uninhabitable wilderness. To me the uninhabitable place was the breakfast room of the hotel we’d stayed the night before, where I saw a couple sitting on the same side of the table as each other so they could watch the news instead of looking into each other’s faces. Crazy!
I’d like to tell you about everything else we saw, but it’s time to walk in the desert. When we arrived my body went all crazy with goosebumps and the good energy that flowed straight flooding into it so I think you’ll understand it’s time to get back out there. I will collect some of the energy for you, to try and transfer it into you when I see you back home, or if I see you here at a show. Draw it up into my body and hope that I can push it outwards in as much concentration as you need, when you need it.