SO, to continue the story where I had left off, APPROXIMATELY ...

We'd gone back to Cameron's appartment, they sat around and smoked and drank and I lamented being around people who, while fun and nice, were not particularly intellectual - and my idea of fun is of course something different that theirs'. We spent the next few days wandering about Denver, flying signs for money and exploring the town, there's a story about a great old church in the middle of the night - John, beer-in-hand - and a story about a cracked-out waitress. We went to Boulder and met some hippies, we rode around and ate free food and flew signs, we climbed a mountain. I don't remember the exact order of any of these events, but in any case I can at a later date - when I have more time - transcribe my written journal to this one, so that y'all can see the written counterpart aside from my limited vagrants' access to the Internet. The mountain we'd climbed, (we being Joe, John, Yoav, Lotus, and myself), was Longs Peak, the tallest mountain in Rocky Mountain National Park. Lotus gave up within the first 15 minutes, being extraordinarily out of shape despite his healthy appearance due to an unfortunate back disorder and his chronic smoking. I made it through the night and into the first 45 minutes of the next day before deciding that I couldn't make it to the top. It wasn't a pleasant decision. It was a realization that although I could, physically, summit, it would be at the expense of actually enjoying the process. So I decided to balance out and go back down after a brief, heated exchange with Yoav. I heard later that they got much closer, then Yoav gave up, then Joe, and only John summited, where then he promptly smoked a bowl for some or another spiritual reason. I sprinted back to the van, listening to Styx...

more later!