three daze

Too often, I think, do these post start with 'I.' With the woes of the world, it grows increasingly difficult to convince myself that my own problems are of worth writing. A good friend of mine, who is mostly likely reading this, has returned to places far away to meet problems face-to-puffing-face. I admire him greatly. He has a great many things i never had: troubles. I know that I've lived a sweet life. (still do.) But should i be needed to be called on for the necessities he must face, i doubt i could rise to the occasion. My strength lie in leisure (i'm not so sure i should say 'strength'). Then with other, further reaching troubles of the uncared masses besiege me. From the morning news of death, tragedy and disaster, of poor of sick of sorrow. The maladies family overcry what little i have to complain. the fact that i have things alone to complain about should not be over looked when considering the absolute loss of those who would throw themselves C4 first into death's unforgiving grayness (perhaps at the cause of some-such or another; though i think they've lost so much they see little recourse).

Last week I found myself unable to move from the bed in mornings. Paralyzed perhaps. Where before, eagerly i leapt from slumber to see each new day, recently I only wish to return to my dreamless purgatory. But last Sunday was different. I forced heavy limbs and moved to greet morning light (a pay check in need of cashing was of no little aid). I awoke with the birds and met the day. In impulse I whisked Ruby to a theme-park (Adventureland) where our bottled stress uncorked with cries of eager delight and fear as i faced mine: Rollercoasters.

Yes, dear reader, I've long had a knee weakening fear of metal tracks twisting and winding clamorously, tearing even, through an amusement-park. We started slow: the merry-go-round, ferris wheel, some big pirate themed swing-a-majig, the inverter, then my first big challenge: the space shot. Basically a chair attached to a massive pneumatic piston that flung the passengers a bunch of stories skyward with a nasty hiss of air. it is not heights or speed or motion that bother me about 'rides'. rather the unnatural, awkward method they arrive to get you there. When you're driving or on your bike or climbing trees you're incomplete control of your motion. at least to some extent you can choose to continue or stop (though cases arrive where you are committed to an action, say an abnormally large hill or lost hand-hold).

In reality, the effects of simulated motion are not nearly as jarring as they would appear. In fact it was quite liberating - invigorating if you will. I loved it.  We rode everything once then returned to some choice favorites through the day. I suggest The Outlaw at Adventureland. It has no inversions or loops, but steep curves and tall, tight, twisting hills blended within it's compact structure make it an intense ride.

but the day didn't truly take to whimsical flight until a sudden shower lifted our sun-dampened spirits. Actually, it drove most off the fun and into shelter or fleeing from the park. But we would not be deterred. truth is, everything is better in a summer rain. from coasters to swings. Also, the park's patrons dried up to keep wait times down. With camera at hand many moments were captured of this triumphant day though many more can only be shared in memory.