Category Archives: Utah

Music Vid w/ High Rez and Upgrades to the Personal Operating System

This is a transition story of coming from one way of life and entering another. There are forces of this world that clearly demonstrate the definition of power. Always there’s truth to the level of insanity. Its in finding the flow that allows one to predict the future. As I sit and write this story I think of many different ways of life and how they move through the stream of communication, passed down through more channels than any single person could dream about, all coming together to create the grand narrative of life. Sometimes I wonder if my being is not entirely made up of these forces, that the thing that I call I does not even exist, and that introspection is nothing but a trick invented by the mind long ago. Who can say other than impassioned individuals that seam to have an intuitive grasp and yet when asked to describe such a thing all words escape them? We can look and see what we find but in the end this is just a simple story.

Salt Lake City is what it looks and feels like. From the feeling you get when you catch another persons eye, to the type of cars people drive, Utah is a Mormon state. The beer has less alcohol, on Sunday they swarm the streets, and roads are named things like Temple. There is a cute little countercultural movement against Mormonism going on when I was there but that was not yet able to separate itself from the mainstream and attain autonomy making it so that the only types of people in Utah are Mormons and reactionary Mormons (A generalization of generalizations to be sure).

Anyways, I get a call from my friend Brock who says he wants to go to Colorado to shoot a music video. It takes me less than an hour to pack my hiking pack, Brock comes at 9am and we are off. I meet the other guy who is to be part of the music video and he reminds me of my old friend Gabe. The band is called The Dope Hippy Tribe and the three of us are off to spread the message that a hippie doesn’t need to have to enjoy the smell of flowers, or love hugging trees, and that maybe its just someone that has a deep fondness for life. With lyrics that sport boxing metaphors while aiming for the most uplifting and positive message possible, The Dope Hippy Tribe brings a new message to both the world of hip-hop and the hippie subculture. Through our initial talks I can feel myself awakening from a haze. Almost like there is a fog that is leaving the inside of my eyeballs letting me focus on the things that I feel are important. The more I ride and talk, the more thankful to have these two new companions.

(This is the part where I tell about some dope place to check out if you, reader, are ever in the area)

The idea of taking drugs is brought up. My friends are down but they are not sure what to get or where to get it. I tell them that if we go to Owsley’s Golden Road in Boulder that the chances that we pick LSD are close to 100. They ask me how I can be so certain and I tell them the story of Owsley quick: Owsley was a guy that worked as The Grateful Dead’s sound guy. When The Dead discovered LSD Owsley was one of the first to manufacture it on a large scale and was said to have produced more ten million hits of acid over the span of his life. When we arrived in Boulder and the three of us walked in to Owsley’s Bar, we talk to a grand total of two people before we find exactly what we were looking for. The guy that gave it to us didn’t even ask for a price and we ended up paying what we thought was fair. It felt right to attain LSD in this way.

Brock goes to sleep early. It’s just my new friend and I all night. It was on this night that I learned about learning. When we were both trippin my new friend got into his music. He would go so hard that I felt that he was an incarnate of some ghoulish entity that I had direct access to and was beaming me information from the nether world strait to my cranium. When I look back upon this situation rationally, that is exactly what happened. Throughout the night we talked through the eons and I was able to learn what makes this man the way he is. There was something hellish that drove his bones to action and over the night I could feel myself changing into something new that was now capable of supporting this new information and way of life. It was a nice upgrade to my personal operating system. The way of the skull hippy.

We did not sleep that night and as the morning rolled in and our friend Brock woke up we prepared for our big day; or we attempted and failed at a preparation more like. We neglected to charge our cell and couldn’t seem to follow the simple instructions of google maps and so missed out on many opportunities. When it was time for the music video we were all nervous that we would continue to miss out and therefore miss our biggest opportunity of the day.

At the time of first meeting the rapper Hi Rex I felt that his presence was lack luster but looking back I think he matched the emotion of the atmosphere and then did the part of the musician that he was, and the musician that he was was all about the money. The more I think about it the more respect I have for the guy. I mean, he is a sell out of an artist but owning the sell out title so well that he breaks through the idea of selling out and creates an artistic image of his own right. Praise to the dollar.

The man that really caught my attention was his producer. First impression of this guy was that he was full of himself. Muscle shirt, gold chains, and some sort of punk ass sunglasses on. I played his game to find wisdom it would have otherwise taken me years to find. His message was simple and emphasized hard work. We were able to shoot a short video for my youtube series- “bang stories” which he turned into a life lesson rather than some story of having sex with a girl. He told me of his affiliation with sales star Grant Cardone and of his books that’s scheduled to be published next month. It was more learning and more upgrades all day from these guys.

The camera we rented was a Cannon 6d. I had never even held one in my hand before. It was a magnificent piece of equipment. Like a beautiful woman; nothing ever needed to be forced when it comes to these guys. I loved using the camera and while we were shooting the video I got creative as possible. After we were done shooting I could feel a huge sense of relief come over Brock who praised me time and again for taking charge during the shooting. There was a moment in the sunlight on the streets of Denver where Brock looked into my eyes and he was able to show me how happy he was. The great part for me was that I was able to empathize with him all the way up. It feels good to serve and provide value to other people. In the end its all selfish and I really only do it for me, and that’s exactly why it feel so good to serve other people.

On our way back to Boulder, and to my new life, we stopped at Red Rocks amphitheatre to take one final shot of Brock dropping a prophetic verse on the main stage. Who knows what is to come in the future. As far as I’m concerned we could all die tomorrow be perfectly all right.

Peace out Utah. I’m here now instead. I’m still a little sore from the ass kicking I got from Powder Mountain this year but learned a valuable lesson of discernment between the people that work for an entity and the the entity itself. So grateful to everyone I was able to meet at a personal level and hope that they do their best to keep the thoughts of the corporate beast out of their heads and remember that people are people and should be treated in much the same way. This Colorado thing is feeling more right than anything ever has in my life. I have a few things to take care of before I can really start to expand but if there ever was a place to do it that place is here, and of course if there ever was a time, its tomorrow cause I’m going to bed! Lol.

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BikeTaxi

It’s been called a biketaxi, pedicab, rickshaw; call it whatever you want I don’t care much. I have been these things all over the country for the past three years. Started out in Minnesota, road in Phoenix Arizona, New Orleans, Colorado, and am currently riding in Salt Lake. This paper is about my experience and what’s different about each location with an inside look at the advantages and disadvantages that come with the scene. Biketaxies are in just about every major city and if they are not then please let me know so that I can move to that city and get things rolling for myself.

Three years ago, downtown Minneapolis; for the first time in my life I see a biketaxi roll by. I must have needed a job at the time and so I stopped the driver to ask him how one gets to do what he does. He directed me to the pedicab office downtown and within a matter of a few days I’m a rider. I remember one of the rides from the first day. These two guys hop on my bike and tell me that they are professional bikers. I tell them that its they who should be giving me a ride. They think that’s a great idea and I switch with one of them. It was impressive how much this “professional biker” struggled with the extra weight of his friend and I in the back carriage, and he was more than willing to admit to his weakness with the realization how different the pedicab is from his carbon fiber light weight bicycle he is used to. This guy ends up taking us to some deserted back parking lot and shows us through a small door in an old mill type of building. We walk through a cement hallway with pipes hanging out of the walls and in through the door at the end of this hallway. I expect to be standing in a boiler room or something but instead I find myself in a top class cocktail bar filled with men in fashionable suits, women in fancy dresses, and bartender wearing vests (Spoon and Stable- 211 North First Street, mpls). The lights were set to low and I spend my time drinking some sort of rum coconut drink (damnit I wish I remembered what it was called!) and listening to these two guys tell me about their bike ride over the weekend. Turns out they rode with Lance Armstrong’s coach and enjoy horse racing. When all was said and done I dropped them off at their destination. The one came up to me and handed me a 20 while thanking me for the ride, then his friend came up and handed me a 100 while thanking me for the ride. They call rides that earn 100 a unicorn in MN, first day magic is what I called it.

A few months later I had moved out of Minnesota and was living in New Orleans and actively seeking employment with one of the pedicab companies there in the city, Redcab with Sal is who I ended up working for. Tid-bit about the NOLA pedicab scene- There are three companies that have monopolized the biketaxi industry in NOLA, so there are no independent riders. This has to do with the corrupt business practices that take place throughout the entire city. There are also many more people that have the desire to become rickshaw drivers, and thus the competition is high, and thus it’s harder to make an honest buck. All of that can be ignored with these next two words: Festival Season. If you are one of the top riders and you want to work your ass off during things like Martigras, Blues and Jazz Fest, Decadence, ect, then you for sure can make your money down in New Orleans.

Back in 2015 I got an offer from my old company in MN to come work the super bowl in Phoenix AZ, so I jumped on the fastest CL rideshare I could find (A trucker named Dave) and shipped my ass out to Phoenix. It was fun, competitive, and easily to most money I have ever made in my life. It was the day before the super bowl in Scottsdale where Drake was putting on a small hotel rooftop show where tickets where 1k a pop. I would jump from one ride to the next without a break. My customers where dressed to the hilt in suites and dresses with actually diamonds hanging from their ears. I ended up earning many unicorns and by the end of the night I counted out 1080 dollars. Not bad for 5 and ½ hours of work. After the super bowl I stayed in Phoenix for about a month and kept riding, but for a different company (Billy O). In less than a week I went from making the most money I have ever made in my life to making the least. The crowds clear out after the big game is over and I would spend entire days on the hot desert streets of Phoenix making 10 bucks for an entire shift. I stayed in the Desert, but not for the money. There is some magic coming from the artsy side of that city, but that’s for a different post.

A few states later I find myself in Colorado and once again, perusing a license so that I can ride the streets of Denver. There are a couple thing I will say about Colorado pedicabing- The rent is low. I don’t know why but the owner of the cabs in Denver don’t make you pay that much to rent them. There are also plenty of tourists to make weekend riding more than worth your time, so that as far as your average weekend earnings go, Denver might be the best place to ride. In the summer there are Broncos games too where there might be more than 200 caber riding in a day. Anyone riding is making more than 500 on those days too. It gets to the point of bumper to bumper (or wheel to bumper) traffic between riders, and the trains, and the hills, and the people, and competition, and the hotdogs… it’s something to witness.

Currently I am in Salt Lake riding for Luis. What they got going on here is that all the cabs are upgraded to the max. Personally, I have never ridden a cab with an electric motor assist, or a cab with a speaker built under the seat, or hardly even a cab with a neon light setup. Here in Salt Lake every single cab comes with all of these things stock. To be honest, it pissed me off when I saw this and I even went so far as to call the riders here no better than Uber drivers (the worst insult you can call pedicab driver). They didn’t even understand the severity of my comment of course because motor assist is all they know. The more I ride with the people of Salt Lake the more persuaded I am of the Salt Lake style of riding; and it’s not because of the motor assist. I am still working on getting my license which means I am limited in what I can ride. I take out something called “The Spider” which is a seven seater (I know, not eight) where everyone peddles while facing the middle. There are only two Spiders ever made and thus there are no regulations for them, at least not yet. The money in Salt Lake is great and so are the people. Time and again I am surprised with how easy it is to form meaningful relationships here. Last night when I road back to the garage to turn in my cab and pay my rent and I find the rest of the shop drinking beer and playing dice. I lost 53 bucks my first three rounds and vowed never to roll again.

Riding bikes like this has been my career for most of the past three years. It does not matter what kind of mood I am in when I go out for the night, by the time I come back in I am feeling great. The exercise is great, the pay is comparable to a bartender, and I get to make my own schedule. One day I would like to ride in India where they might take home 10 bucks a day, but that’s a long ways away from now and there are many more strokes of the peddle between here and there. Thanks for reading folks. Hope that we get to speak again.

 

The Salt Lake City Bike Collective

There is one big major thing that comes to most people’s minds when the word Utah is mentioned. Not the amazing skiing and snowboarding, not the arches and national parks, maybe The Great Salt Lake, but the thing that comes to most people’s minds is the Mormons. Utah’s populations is more than 60% LDS and it shows. Road names like North Temple and towns like Eden show some of the influence. Sunday mornings they take over the city as people with long conservative dresses or white collared shirts are out on every corner. One thing that I found surprising about Utah was that the homeless population is greater here than possibly even New Orleans (now that I think about it, no fucking way). There is an entire 5 block area downtown Salt Lake that has been taken over and is now tent city. My explorations of the city has been to shows, parties, bars, jobs, and mostly just walking around. At backyard show at Kilby Court a DJ told me that Salt Lake is in a pivotal position between becoming a place for real creativity and inspiration, or just a place like everywhere else. That phrase hits it right on the nose and will stick with me for a long time to come.

Coming off a lifties salary from the winter, I am in massive hustle mode just to make ends meet. A good friend of mine tells me of a place that will allow you to trade your time in for a bike in a work trade type of agreement. After that you can continue to volunteer hours for upgrades to the bike. Fridays and Sundays 9-12 (2312 S West Temple) are volunteer hours where anyone can come in for work. A small part of the job is cleaning but most of the job is disassembling bikes and organizing the parts for reuse. I learned so much about bikes in the short time that I spent at the Bike Collective. Next time a go back I will be assembling bikes from the many different parts that are kept in the shop and then the time that I go back after that I will be participating in a class that they offer; something to do with bikes I assume. All I know is that I am down to be a part of whatever it is that they have going on.

While putting in my time today I spoke with one of the older guys that volunteers there regularly. As we talked I found myself listening to his stories of long bike trips that he would take across the country and was immediately impressed with the idea of a long trip for myself. That conversation and consequently the journey must have been the reason connected with the Bike Collective as the shop manager (a college student going for environmental studies… classic) was more than happy to design and build a bike specifically for a journey cross country. Super thankful for having found this gem along my journey and looking forward to my next visit.

Utah is a super dope place where I have been able to naturally build relationships that have depth without having to try too hard or search too far. It’s like there is a group of people living here that react impressively against the shallow thought of Mormon culture with something that is real to profound levels. Tonight I am going to head over for drinks with the environment studies guy from the shop and on Sunday I will be able to finish up my 6 hours of work. It does take some searching but there is some amazing things happening here in Utah. Here’s a raised glass to hoping that this spot does becomes that creative place that the DJ was talking about because I can see that its already happening.

 

 

Just a Powder party

Last night was real. It all started out with the dancing on the tables at the Powder Keg. A hot and sweaty time up there where everyone was getting rowdy with the band A-Mac DZ. I was dancing with women and hitting on other girls. Ended up hitching to the party from my house and the band picked me up, so I got to know some cool guys and we all showed up to the party together. The party was great. There could have been some more girls there but we still all had a good time chilling with the powder people.

It was near the beginning of the party and everyone was passing around their own brand of THC. Bowls, pipes, bongs, vaporizers of all sorts. At this point in the party I passed on everything being that I prefer to smoke at the end of the night as getting high tends to make me not give a fuck about other people and so I go off and do my own thing. Not the best party drug. So as everyone else gets high I sit back and try not to drink too much. We all then intermingle with each other and between the guitars and drums, the pool table, the bar, the TV dance party room.

At one point I end up sitting down with a guy that I somewhat know from my job on the mountain as a lifty and we start to chat. To me this guys wasn’t making much sense and we were all a bit off as it was just the start of the party so I’m clowning around his ignorance; a risky move that I make all too often. He keeps on asking me what I mean by that and I keep going into more cryptic descriptions. Eventually I start to make some nonsense rap up- “Here I am in chilling in a new place, ready burn it up and ignite this race.” He puffs up his chest and asks me “Are you ready?” Thinking that he is actually a decent rapper I lean my head in attentive to listen to what he has got to say. This kid winds up and clocks me strait in the nose. I fall over but am on my feet in moments with blood gushing out my nose. “What the fuck did you do that for?” I’m yelling at this kid and he is trying to take me outside away from the party but for sure unable to answer my question when I confronted in front of everyone in the house. Not being aggressive most of the tension is defused and I go outside to talk with this kid who claims it’s because of his own fucked up head. I’m at a loss and tell him it’s all good and that we should go back to the party.

Back inside I clean myself up and go to defuse the tension with everyone else. It works out too. I mean, I need to take some shit from the ski mechanic about not kicking his ass but other than that it all seems good. I’m playing drums with my friends, pool and dancing with the girls, listing to my good friend talk about how much trouble he is having because he doesn’t know how to juggle three girls at one time. God this kid is so into himself. A good friend and extremely socially intelligent person. So I sit and tell him he is a bitch for not fucking them all at the same time. There are other people there that I would like to have as friends and I am making progress on all of them. Trying to say the funniest stuff and entice them with just the right information that will allow all of us to be friends and hang out at each other’s houses.

The band is still here at the house and near the end of the night when everyone is decently fucked the hell up, the saxophonist member of the band starts rapping and gets me to get me to start rapping too. I do and it’s not half bad. For being someone that just started their professional rap career last week, I can hold my own. I am more inhibited than he is and so he takes the show. After the kitchen rap battle I see my friend Danger Dan heading outside with his guitar so I follow suit. When we get outside the band lead is waiting for us. Danger Dan starts playing Clint Eastwood on the guitar and with only the three of us in the night we start to spit.It was beautiful. Man it was a song, we sang about good friends and troubled times, about overcoming challenges and the glory that comes because of it, about the universe and our small places within this grand thing called existence right until the end. It was something special switching versus between the two of us while Mr. Dan held it down on the guitar. A memory worthy of a press to say the least.

As the night wound down I must have had one too many drinks because very quickly all the girls got swooped without my knowing and the rest of us were left dancing awkwardly with just ourselves. I made sure to say goodbye to everyone that I had met at the party and Mr. Danger Dan drove me home, along with the lead singer and a girl, who made out in the back seat the entire ride home.

Today my nose hurts but I feel good about what happened. As always, I am left with a strong urge to make up for weaknesses that prevented me from being more,which is exactly why I write this post. If you took the time to get this far into the article, then please feel free to leave a comment. I love advice and would for sure check out anything anyone leaves below. Until next time.

Wishing you enough.

A skibum in the purest sense of the word

Mover to the mountain 4 weeks ago, and have been able to get on the generosity of mountain people high and low. First it was finding the first couch to sleep on, then it was finding gear, now it’s about all the simple things that each person has to offer. You see, most people have gifts inside spring wrapped just waiting for someone to come along and unwrap them. Is it not the giver who owes thanks because the receiver revived? Today most people are too caught up in their own ways to understand people around them and figure out what kind of gifts can be shared. Most people find it to be a release to finally find a person who is will to accept their sincerity as a person. Really, it’s all about talking to other people to find out what their stories are and where they come from and maintaining that focus on that person even after your basic needs have been filled. It’s about the art of seduction.

Mountain rules are different from anywhere else. We have an entire team of pothead lifties and enough snow to make pot stations all over the mountain. It’s not as if we don’t care about the rules, its more that the rules don’t apply to us. Just the other day, during our start of the day meeting, it reeked of weed. The guy that’s in charge of the lifties made a special appearance and gave a speech where he did not tell us not to smoke, rather he told us not to get caught. One of the greatest speeches I have heard in my life.

The mountain is in Utah and with that comes many people who live a life by the book. No drugs, no sex, and no fun. Just kidding on that last part. On the contrary they can be lots of fun as well as easy to deal with. I have already gotten myself into many a religious conversation in which we try and persuade each other of something neither of us is going to believe in (this has been one of my favorite pastimes for a while now).

I have started to embrace my inner roguishness and have begun the seduction of someone who is already in a relationship. I figure that most people already expect me to pull something amoral like that and now that I am actively engaged in it makes everything seem smoother and fit nicer. Could cause a firestorm with me taking on all the old time lifties that have each other backs on the mountain. This would be a fight that I could not win, although I might be able to make off with the treasure before anyone is aware. I should say that I find it nice to have a challenge for a seduction. It’s exciting this way.

Friday night currently and I thought that I had a party lined up, but now I can’t find the address and I saved the contact under the wrong number and will have to wait until I see him on the mountain in order to get his info for a second time. I almost gave up on the night and resigned myself to studying something that could prove to be super valuable in terms of learning but not what I am looking for out of a Friday night. We will still see where the night will bring.

Every night for me is a challenge to find a place to sleep. Over the past week, I have been able to bounce from house to house. What has been really awesome has been learning everyone’s inner lives. They take me into their home and share with me their lifestyle. If I had a house to go to every night I would leave before things even got interesting. I would gladly pay for my currently lifestyle if only there were some way to make things dependable. Instead, when I have nowhere to go I wander the city, moving from coffee shop to coffee shop hoping that something might work itself out. I really do love my lifestyle and hope to be persuasive to anyone reading that has got the skill and the balls to pack up and move in somewhat of the same direction. I have told you it’s rough, in the future I will focus on the reward.

 

Towering above mountain, cast in shadow, eyes red

The demon named weakness calls you out of your bed

He says choose quickly, the fate of many rests in your small hands

To fight now and to forever or to lay down under my command

 

So soft and so sweet do his words lay into your mind

As if there is truth in relaxation. To sleep is divine

So tempting and sweet does deep darkness seem to be

Here we are shackled, in sleep we are free

 

Once we were stardust and to that we are bound

Any purpose beyond the wave is something I have not yet found

So easy it would be, to let go of the fight

Surrender to the pleasantness and become one with the light

 

But something inside you that will not let go

You try to control it but still it says no

This force it controls you and it says no time for rest

Bigger and better and you bang on your chest

 

Screaming at the demon we know only through fear

Screaming I will fight on and on hind legs you rear

You charge strain ahead ignoring the pain

You charge straight ahead with eyes set aflame

 

Now troubled our demon who cannot understand

He thinks that what drives you can be under his command

But you and I know better how this story will be told

The demon is you and the lesson: be bold

 

Shelter

It’s amazing living our here in Utah. I am shocked that I have been given the opportunity to ride the mountain all winter long. Still, I am baffled that humans find it enjoyable to ride down snow as fast as they can. When I think about it, snowboarding doesn’t make any sense. When I do it, snowboarding doesn’t need to make sense. A fairy tale without strife or challenge has no appeal to a man like myself and in this dystopian world that I traverse there are many obstacles. On one hand, I live with a privileged class of people who have enough money to put most of their time to snowboarding. On the other hand, I am out of money and don’t have a regular place to sleep and have been couch surfing for over two weeks now. This story is about sleeping in a shelter.

I started my night with dinner and a girl that I met online. In my mind I felt a desire to sleep at her house but I would not betray my real intentions. I was a gentleman and we had a good time. I didn’t need to ask to be able to tell that she was not the type to let someone sleep over after a first date and so I left graciously with a kiss. Making it back to my city of Ogden I wandered, looked up hotel prices, and eventually called the shelter. The pastor in charge of the shelter told me to stop by for some space in the dormitory. When I arrived, most people were already asleep. They gave me a sleeping bag and made some space for myself in the center of the room with the rest of the homeless. It was difficult getting to sleep because there was a younger man who would moan loudly. When I got a glimpse of him it looked like he was drooling on the floor. Eventually someone asked if he was sick and took him to a different room. Only then did I fall asleep.

I was awake before anyone else and eventually the pastor came in to get everyone up. Like a disturbed rooster, he called out loudly “wake up time” and then left. It was easy for me to pack up all my stuff and be out of the dormitory quickly. I was about to leave when the pastor asked if anyone would volunteer to shovel the sidewalks, and so I shoveled. By the time I was done they were serving breakfast and so I sat and ate with all of the people I had slept with the night before; there were about 40 of us. We were served a bowl of watery oatmeal and donuts but by the time I got to the donut part of the line they were all gone. I sat inconspicuously and ate my oatmeal trying not to draw attention to myself. Eventually people filled in to the seats besides me to eat their breakfast. Conversation revolved mostly around the poor quality of the food and how the place was mismanaged. After I was done with my meal I thanked the pastor for the food and the warm place to sleep. I tried to make eye contact with him but he seemed unfazed and simply nodded his approval. It was as if everyone in that building had been infected with a disease that made them numb to the world around them. As I was left I was scoffed at by a member of the church for not staying for service, but I had had enough and I was out the door.

At breakfast, I remember thinking of Nietzsche’s slave morality and resentment. The people in that room were filled with a victim mentality, cynicism, and sheer laziness more so that I have ever seen before. They hated the food that they had just been given for free. It was hard for me to wrap my mind around what these people must have gone through to get to such point in life. Most of them were over the age of 40 and I had no idea how they would be able to continue in spite of so much misery. Even the pastor, through his mission for god, had been infected with the disease. The economy of emotions had not been generous to these people and I did not feel that I could do much good by sticking around.

There are always sparks of light in any place. The old man I shoved with did a warm up jig that we all thought was pretty funny and there was a younger boy who helped serve the food who seemed more innocent than his age. I do not know where I will sleep tonight and I may head back to the shelter if I do not find something by a decent time. It would be a time to raise a shield to the negative energy as I traverse through dim and dingy places on my way to something higher. As for today I will put it out of my mind with ease as head to the mountain to hang out with my more privileged friends. The mountain is something I am thankful for as it makes all my time spent in these places worth it. All for that next run down the slopes.