Category: people be trippin’

they once were wolves

On By Crystal JacksonIn dogs, people be trippin', stupidization, travel4 Comments

Does an animal that finds its asshole, an ice cube and its owner’s face equally delightful to lick care about seeing the Hollywood sign?

Does an animal that chases its own tail, surprises itself by farting and is scared of the vacuum want to go to the Grand Canyon and marvel at the enormity of it all?

Does an animal that, at the peak of health, is happy running for five minutes and then sleeping for five hours want, at the very end of its life, to pose on the prow of a ship on a crashing sea as the sun sets?

Or, to put it another way, when you have the flu, do you want someone dragging you to pose in front of the house from Full House?

I’m thinking “no” on all accounts.

Dogs are delightful, happy, soulful creatures that are content with very little. Ever notice how many homeless people have a dog or two by their side? That’s because dogs are down for whatever. They just want to love and be loved in return. The accommodations don’t matter.

You wouldn’t know that from what seems to be a disturbing trend of late (if you can call something I’ve seen a total of three times a trend). I’m talking about people finding out their dog is terminally ill, then taking the poor animal on a fucking tour around the US. You know, so Max or Maggie can see Las Vegas, the Space Needle and Niagara Falls before crossing that rainbow bridge. What a happy coincidence that the places dogs want to see before they die are also exciting tourist destinations that look great in photos and the coffee table book that may come out of this!

For those of us who love dogs and consider them part of the family, the end of the road is a sad and lonely place. If you knew your dog only had a few weeks or months to live, who wouldn’t want to make the most of that time? But let’s back up for a moment and talk about what dogs enjoy.

They love the smell of shit and dead things. I don’t care how manicured and prissy your dog is. Put her in a backyard with a dead skunk, and she’s going to be all over it.

They love to eat. Filet mignon or meat that fell to the floor from your Jack in the Box taco, it’s all a wonderful culinary delight.

They love to sleep. Take your dog out in the morning when they first get up, and within a couple of minutes they’re ready for a nap.

So, for someone who wants to give Fido an exit to remember, I’d like to recommend a few hot spots the pooch might actually enjoy.

  • Dog park. Plenty of other dog assholes to smell and maybe something dead to roll in.
  • Litter box. Plenty of cat turds to eat and maybe a cat to chase or at least growl at.
  • Your bed. Plenty of opportunity to be loved and maybe a little time for a nap.

Pretty simple. It may not get anyone a book deal or make them an Instagram star, but it will make their little buddy comfortable and happy. And isn’t that really the point?

adfg
Lest I lose my crazy-dog-lady bona fides, here’s my dog Stella in her CAR SEAT. Yes, she’s strapped in. I bought this for her when we moved from Texas to California, the longest journey the dog or I ever made. Do you know what she did 99% of the way here? She slept.

PS: If you’ve been spared these treacly stories, here’s a link to one of them. Doesn’t that dog look like he’s having a GREAT TIME and not like he was propped up for the photo and then quickly collapsed because he’s TERMINALLY ILL? The man said, “It was a little bit for him, a little bit for me.” Uh huh.

#GD50

On By Crystal JacksonIn people be trippin', the arts2 Comments

Last weekend the Grateful Dead (or just the Dead, if you don’t want to insult Jerry) played two shows at Levi’s Stadium in Santa Clara, 80 miles north of here, and this weekend they’re playing three shows at Soldier Field in Chicago, a few miles further. These five, swan-song performances mark the 50th anniversary of their founding. They haven’t played together in years and likely won’t again–so we went to both Santa Clara shows.

Considering Levi's Stadium holds nearly 70,000 people and these were mostly sold-out shows, getting into the place wasn't terrible.
Considering Levi’s Stadium holds nearly 70,000 people and these were sold-out shows, getting into the place wasn’t as terrible as expected.
Long security lines (with bag checks and metal detectors) gave us plenty of time to check out the scenery.
FARE THEE WELL
You'd think a band would get lost in a stadium, but the stage was HUGE.
You’d think a band would get lost in a stadium, but the stage was HUGE.
We knew our seats were "restricted view" but thought we'd be okay since we were on the side. Nope. Huge screens blocked any view of the band. So Saturday night's show was like being at a weird simulcast.
We knew our seats the first night were “restricted view” but thought we’d be okay since we were on the side. Nope. Huge screens blocked any view of the band. So Saturday night’s show was like being at a weird simulcast.
Not being able to see the band (and having a slight aversion to watching them on the big screen), I took the opportunity to people watch. I don't think I've ever
Not being able to see the band (and having a slight aversion to watching them on the big screen), I took the opportunity to people watch. So much good stuff. This dude danced the entire show with the biggest smile I’ve ever seen. Whether that was prompted by chemicals or the music, I don’t know. Why not both?
The costumes people wear at Dead shows could best be described as "circus hippie."
The costumes people wear at Dead shows could best be described as “circus hippie.”
asdfd
It’s nice to live in a state that didn’t just humiliate itself over gay marriage (now called “marriage”). Also note the guy trying to fly a kite.
There were Dead flags, too.
There were Dead flags flying, too.
Gumby.
Gumby.
The crowd turned and looked into the sky behind the stage. I thought they'd heard some kind of pot dog whistle, but ends up it was a rainbow.
Toward the end of the first set, the crowd turned and looked into the sky behind the stage. I thought they’d heard some kind of patchouli dog whistle, but ends up it was a rainbow. A double-rainbow, actually, though it’s hard to see the second one in this shot.
asdfds
So. Many. People.
So. Much. Weed.
So. Much. Weed.
So. Many. Colors.
So. Many. Colors.
The seats for show number two were much better. The performance was, too.
The seats for show number two were much better, if not further away from the stage (this is zoomed in).
My friend Evan is involved in an effort to create a huge natural swimming pool in the middle of Houston. This beach ball was my Kickstarter reward.
A friend is involved in an effort to create a huge natural swimming pool in the middle of Houston (called Houston Needs a Swimming Hole). Thought I’d spread the word out here by sending this ball on a journey.
It made it all the way to the front of the stadium.
It made it all the way to the front of the stadium.
Hey, look who it is!
Hey, look who it is! Circus Hippie! And he wasn’t the only person we recognized from the first show.
We don't know these people.
We don’t know these people.
Things got more interesting after dark.
The 80-mile drive back home each night sucked, but it was worth it for a couple of pretty amazing–and colorful–shows.

if a writer falls in the woods, will she make a sound?

On By Crystal JacksonIn awkward, people be trippin', the outdoors

We thought we’d take a break from Big Sur (a ridiculous concept) and instead go hiking in the mountains near Carmel Valley. A place called Garland Ranch. We made this decision after some wine the night before–literally thumbing through a book of 99 local hikes  and saying “that one”–and did zero research about our destination other than finding which end of the park had fewer people.

The first clue things weren’t going my way, about 20 minutes into the hike? One minute I was standing next to a bridge taking pictures like this one*

last image

the next, I’m flat on my face. I have no recollection of tripping and falling. One minute I was fully upright, the next I was kissing dirt. Luckily, my camera lens and right tit cushioned my fall. The camera is jacked and will have to be replaced.

photo-2

The tit was slightly bruised but will not need replacement (no photo available).

After the fall, we continued onward through a grove of trees and then headed down to a creek via a series of steep switchbacks. After walking along the creek for a bit, we started heading up the mountain. And up. And up.

I don’t mind getting my elevation on. I enjoy a nice view with my exercise. But this goddamn trail just kept going up with no chance to catch your breath. And though it was a misty 59 degrees at our house that morning, it was clear and 90 in Carmel Valley. Since I’ve totally acclimated to the climate in Pacific Grove as if I’ve lived here my whole life, I had more trouble than normal with the heat. So in addition to listening to me pant my way through heat stroke, James also had the pleasure of once again hearing, “It’s so fucking hhhhhhhhhhot” over and over again.

We came across a red-faced woman taking a break with her dog. Seeing my red face, she recommended we jump on a different trail instead of continuing along the one we were on. She said it gets so steep at one section you have to crawl on hands and knees to traverse it. Don’t have to tell me twice. The trail she suggested was only wide enough for one person and featured a pretty steep drop-off, but it was mostly flat and mostly downhill so it felt like a walk in the park. Which was kind of what we were going for in the first place.

As for the sound a writer makes when she falls in the woods, it begins with a grunt and quickly turns into a stream of expletives. Pretty much what you’d expect.

*Though it looks as though James is on his phone, he’s actually adjusting his glasses. On most hikes, our phones (thankfully) don’t get a signal.