Santa Fe #2

Southwest kitsch at its finest.

I have never felt so deliciously unmotivated as I feel right now lying on my queen bed here in the Guadalupe Inn in Santa Fe, Mexico. The fireplace is going. The internet is working again. There are a plethora of wonderful cafes just a javelin-throw from the inn, but I don’t want to walk to any of them. I did just walk to one of them, Iconik Coffee Roasters, where with tip I paid $8.00 for a matcha latte. This is now the most I have ever paid for a matcha latte. Which I guess makes it unique in that regard. And it was a good matcha latte, but no matcha latte is worth eight dollars, save maybe the one I got in Monterrey, Mexico a few days ago that was sold by a girl in the running for friendliest girl on the planet and made with fresh peanut milk. And that matcha latte cost $2.50.

Ahhhhhh, the fireplace. With the blue angel wings hanging above it. The clear, blue sky outside. The crisp air. The REI that’s just a five-minute walk away. How can a capital city be so sleepy? Should I move to Santa Fe? What are the drawbacks? The generally arid climate? Does the adobe get old after awhile?

The plan right now is to drive to Moab tomorrow, stay there for a night or two, then drive somewhere north of SLC, then somewhere in the middle of nowhere in Oregon, and then back home. I’m not in a HUGE hurry to get home, because I see that a big cold front is coming. I hope the boat is ok. I hope things aren’t freezing on it right now. I’d say I hope my succulent is OK, but our souls are joined now, so that succulent isn’t going anywhere. My soul is also a bit joined with the boat’s, definitely joined with the Subi’s, and inextricably joined with anything involving bouldering. I can’t wait to boulder. I want to boulder so bad. I have a virtual physical therapy appointment on Monday, and then hopefully in-person the following week. The physical therapist I talked to today who will be seeing me is, wait for it….a climber. What luck. He knows what a heel hook is. He knows why I want to heal. He knows that I need to be projecting primo granite blocs and that I need to be doing it as soon as possible. He knows that if you’re sending, you’re not wallowing. And by sending I just mean touching holds. And by touching holds I mean dreaming about the movement.

Getting ready for some life coaching with my friend Jen. Forty five minutes till that, though, so I should probably go for a walk first. Get some mate. I didn’t want mate five minutes ago and now it sounds like a great idea. The sun is shining and two of the Subi tires got fixed today. Both had screws completely puncturing them. One of them has a gash in it. The one with the gash in it has become the spare. The whole escapade cost 45 bucks, and I also decided to tip the mechanic. Now I feel a lot better about the drive home with the Subi. The last 80 miles were pretty disconcerting yesterday.

Ahhhhhh, the sweetness of this bed and this room and this fireplace. The wanton sloth. Sometimes I feel bad about being lazy, but for some reason today I feel great about it. Maybe it’s because sometimes it’s not being lazy. Sometimes it’s just resting, letting your mind rest, letting your mud settle until the water becomes clear.

And then boiling that water and making mate with it.

Mellifluous

The mellifluous view from my sister’s window.

Hello friends and lovers, how is everyone doing this fine fall day, spring if you’re in the southern hemi? I’m doing well. I’m sitting on my boat right now and my stomach is fucked up and I smell like the Moroccan Sea Salt spray I got the other day at CVS which promises to give my hair unseemly amounts of volume. It smells very feminine though, which is confusing to say the most. Love some good volume, though. Love it.

What to talk about? Well, first we should talk about how I had a little escape yesterday to my hometown and it was wonderful. I found myself lying on the floor in my parents’ house looking at the ceiling, my mind completely blank. I was like a newborn, just gazing at the infinite multitude of contours on the ceiling. Everything felt very mellifluous, though to be fair I don’t know what that word means. When I got off the ferry I got a latte with oat milk because the girl working said it was the creamier between oat and hemp milk. And then I walked to my parents’ house, where I spent the evening doing the following things: Watching the movie Ocean’s Eight (I remember it actually being good on the plane but then for some reason my standard for movies on a plane drops like the barometric pressure in the wake of a hurricane); walking to the high school to play soccer by myself; contemplating getting McDonald’s and instead just having popcorn while watching aforementioned movie; falling asleep to an Eckhart Tolle teaching that Deepak Choprak was supposed to appear on but thankfully I fell asleep before Chopes came on.

Today I had physical therapy with a different guy than last time. I told him straight up, “I’m going to continue climbing, so if you don’t wanna work with me because of that that’s fine.”

And he was like, “…..”

And I was like, “…………..”

And he was like, “???????”

And I was like, “!!!!!!!!!!!”

And they were like, “……………………”

Fin.

No, he was actually really awesome. He said his goal was to “meet me halfway,” which was exactly what I was hoping to hear. He gave me two (2) exercises he wants me to do, one of which I’ll do right now (if you’ll excuse me). He also gave me a therapy band which, like, makes things feel more official. The only thing I wished would’ve gone differently is maybe some deep massage or maybe that ultra-sound thing, but I don’t even know if they use that anymore. That might be so 2011. Or even so 2006.

And now I’m tired. So tired. Is it because my diet was shitty yesterday?

I think there’s a decent chance I’ll go climbing tomorrow. It all hinges on if my friend Hart wants to go or not. If he does want to go we’ll probably go to the Sasquatch boulders, since the river is low again and this is definitely the last chance I’ll have to climb them before it gets rainy again. And if he DOESN’T want to go climbing tomorrow, then what will I do? I ask you: What will I do? Probably just sit around crying on my boat. I’m kidding, of course. I’m 46% kidding. No, if he doesn’t want to go then maybe I’ll go by myself or go on a hiking mission with my sister. Even though I sort of (see: completely) hate hiking.

OK it’s time to eat cuz I’m hungry af.

I love you guys.

– Wetz