I want to party hardy in the desert.
Like I'm talking all sorts of twisted drugs and booze. I'm talking fear and loathing (which, I coincidentally happen to be reading right now) kinda tweaked.
Fucked up, from the nuts up.
Think about it. During the day you'd see all sorts of crazy wavy lines on the distance called 'mirages'. And then at night you'd hear things like 'coyotes' howling at an obviously full moon. And this is all before the drugs even kick in.
Imagine it-- chewing on tiny-hair pointy cactus (cacti), laughing at rock formations in 120º heat (look up that fancy º shit. I'm talking ALT + 167), drooling on miles and miles of sand, and passing out over a nest of rattlesnakes!
Why would we want to do that, right?
Josh Homme (Queens of the Stone Age, Kyuss, Eagles of Death Metal, etc) took some of his fellow musicians out into the desert, tripped balls, and recorded "The Desert Sessions". When asked what the compilation was they only answered "it can not be defined". Woa, my badass alert is going off.
Also badass, and maybe not as 'desert' related so much as 'scorpion' related, was my 'ultimate conundrum (which could happen to you while wandering the desert in a drugged-up stupor.)
Remember the 'boo-box' from Hook? Where they throw the guy into the treasure chest and drop scorpions on him? Well what if in some weird twist of fate the choice is yours? As I asked people on twitter (yes, it's a disorder that is very serious and you shouldn't make fun of anyone who has it. If you have this disorder you can reach me at nickapozzi and I will follow the 'ever-loving-shit' out of you) : Would you rather eat hundreds of little scorpions alive? or have hundreds of little scorpions eat YOU alive?
Start thinking about it now, cause tomorrow you could have to answer the 'ultimate' question. Anyhow, if you're ever wandering around the desert, strung out on coke, mescaline, whatever, do NOT accept a ride from this man.
“We had two bags of grass, seventy-five pellets of mescaline, five sheets of high-powered blotter acid, a salt shaker half full of cocaine, a whole galaxy of multi-colored uppers, downers, screamers, laughers…Also a quart of tequila, a quart of rum, a case of beer, a pint of raw ether and two dozen amyls. The only thing that really worried me was the ether. There is nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a man in the depths of an ether binge.” –Raoul Duke
So there you have it. It doesn't sound like much of an argument for the desert. Some might even claim this blog is more of an argument against the desert. But is it?
Think about it.