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Tuesday, December 1, 2009 - Brantley Lake State Park, Carlsbad NM

Snow at dawn, Brantley Lake State Park, Carlsbad NM, December 1, 2009
Snow at dawn, Brantley Lake State Park, Carlsbad NM, December 1, 2009

Yesterday I got nicely settled in here at Brantley Lake State Park, hooked up to electricity for the first time since I left NM last spring and what do I awaken to? Snow. More snow than I've seen in years. Well, a couple of years anyway. Pretty isn't it? I guess I'd better give the guys at Forrest TIre a break and delay our planned session with my right front tire a day or two.

The power just went out (9:30ish).

Experience with this old rig has taught me to be wary of getting caught with my infrastructure out of tune. Running short of drinking water or waste storage can turn an inconvenient breakdown into a big deal and I try to be ready to ride out a break down without having to abandon ship and move to a motel. So yesterday before I came out to the park I grocery shopped, then dumped my waste tanks on the way in and took on a fresh water supply soon after setting up. Too bad I didn't bother filling up on propane and gasoline. After all I have hookups and electric heat - I don't need no steenkin' generator or propane heat.....

[updated 10:30ish] The electricity is on.

In the it's-a-small-world department

Dr. Roberto Fierro was abducted last week. How do I know this? I was out for an early morning walk about the park and met up with a few fellow park residents to chew over the weather a bit. Brigid mentioned she had read or seen on the news (I forget which) that her dentist was kidnapped out of his office in Palomas, Mexico last week. That got the attention of the park host. Four strangers meet and two use the same dentist. Small world.

Night camp

Site 37 - Brantley Lake State Park, Carlsbad NM

Beware of Hypnotic Media

To live sanely in Los Angeles (or, I suppose, in any other large American city) you have to cultivate the art of staying awake. You must learn to resist (firmly but not tensely) the unceasing hypnotic suggestions of the radio, the billboards, the movies and the newspapers; those demon voices which are forever whispering in your ear what you should desire, what you should fear, what you should wear and eat and drink and enjoy, what you should think and do and be. They have planned a life for you — from the cradle to the grave and beyond — which it would be easy, fatally easy!, to accept. The least wandering of the attention, the least relaxation of your awareness, and already the eyelids begin to droop, the eyes grow vacant, the body starts to move in obedience to the hypnotist’s command. Wake up, wake up — before you sign that seven-year contract, buy that house you don’t really want, marry that girl you secretly despise. Don’t reach for the whiskey, that won’t help you. You’ve got to think, to discriminate, to exercise your own free will and judgment. And you must do this, I repeat, without tension, quite rationally and calmly. For if you give way to fury against the hypnotists, if you smash the radio and tear the newspapers to shreds, you will only rush to the other extreme and fossilize into defiant eccentricity.

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