We don’t mess around here in northern New Mexico. If this timezone wasn’t already called “Mountain Time,” we’d have to change it. I took this telephoto shot of Taos Mountain, officially known as Pueblo Peak (which no one calls it), around 7:30 a.m. MDT from just a few steps outside the front door. The elevation at the summit is 12,305 ft. Where I was standing is about 7,058 ft. I love high altitude. I wish it were warmer here, but I guess something had to go.
Speaking of something having to go, the years of struggle are at an end. Public struggle, anyway. I ain’t perfect, but I am done whining about it. Having conveniently outlived them all, there’s no one left to blame. And just when I was about to throw Taos and New Mexico away, after cursing my location more times than I can count for whatever ailed me, a practice I’ve carried out for my entire adult life, it seems that I’m exactly where I want to be for now and all I want to do is write. The moment is a slow pitch over the plate. There’s nowhere left to run, in any case. That yearning is mostly about avoiding the heavy lifting we eternal boys just never learn.
In a previous version of this post, I gave the erroneous impression that I was thinking of shutting down the blog. That will never happen, though, so please relax. I’m relaxing, too, which is why I deleted the rest I bitched about. It’s embarrassing when you catch yourself doing exactly what you said you wouldn’t, but that’s the price of just a little bit of self-awareness. Well worth it! Carry on, and let’s see what happens next.