Dear Roger, Lomawywesa says ,'Ya'Tah Hey"

Well, I drug my ass out of the house today. It wasn't easy, but the ex was being really good at reminding me why I divorced his ass and then sent him to prison, so I reminded him what he was missing by dressing in my new D&G jeans that look like they were painted on my butt, a nice form fitting black wife beater that accents all my assets and a really cool short-waisted jacket that looks like the one the little chick that plays Rose in the Twilight movie wore, and I accented it with my black boots and studded belt with my hair all "Freshly F'D" looking as the gals at the store I always stop at for a soda described it. I was told by them I was,"Fuckhot" and it was nice to see that my ex actually stared, but it did me no good with anyone else for the rest of the day because all I seemed to reun across were the geriatric set or those that were already banded.
I drove into town and jammed along with some new tunes on my Ipod, and its kinda weird, but I guess I am at a point in my life where I really dont give a damn what people think about me,though I never really worried much about it in the past,(thanks to you), I sang along to a weird little band called "100 Monkeys" and songs like "Ugly Girl". They are kinda hard to describe, but the grow on you and I like the humor that they have, because after all the morose, emo, whiney stuff that I have listened to for the past few months, they are like a ray of light that forces me to smile just because they are a bunch of goofy kids living the dream that I wish I had been able to live and probably still consider running off to try.
I went out to the West side of town to just shake things up, and I ended up going by the house I helped to build up in the Rockridge area.It was nice to see it finally finished, I left before the landscaping was done and it was kinda a letdown to hve not been there for the finish, but finally done, it was beautiful and I was proud to have worked on it.I have helped to build not only a huge addition to the Fray Marcos Hotel over in Williams,but a 2.5 million dollar Craftsman home that was truly a work of art and I am proud that there is concrete evidence of my existence. Since I was out there, I decided to just take a drive, but it was kinda weird, I felt pulled to the museum, even though in the nearly 13 years I have lived here, I have only been there twice. The overcast day made doing anything else kinda out of the question, but I thought if nothing else, I would walk the hiking trail and just clear my head.
When I got there, it was like I was being pulled inside and so I decided to go with it. I paid the fee and walked in, and just started wandering. I went to the gallery shop, because I have such a weakness for the Zuni fetishes, and there was one that made me think of Grandma so much that it brought a burning lump to my throat to realize how much I would have liked to have bought it for her.I admired the jewelry and the rugs, and was glad that I had left my debit card out of my immediate acquisition. The museum was fairly empty and I was free to wander in peace for the most part, and I went through the geology exhibit remembering all that grandpa taught me about ,'leaverites" and the rocks and lichen with his lame but endearing song about,'You Lichen me and I lichen you"and the geology of the area and then I went into the special exhibits where I got to see the paintings of Gunnar Windforss. I enjoyed the lanscapes of the Grand Canyon, but not for the artistry, I enjoyed them for the memories that they brought back of my trips with grandma and granpa, especially the painting of Hermits Rest and the stone fireplace, because it felt like I was back there with them and I could remember that whole trip and the fun we had. I sat for awhile in that room, just reminicing, until a herd of tourons came wandering in to make their inane comments and block the view of what I was looking at. I really hate dealing with old people in art museums, and perhaps I get a bit of that snobbery from you? The gallery had a special exhibit of a local artist that had recently died, and that is what I drawn me into the museum in the first place.When I walked into the gallery and beheld the murals that graced the gallery walls, I KNEW that he was a kindred spirit of yours, before I even read his resume and realized that he had gone to school with you at the UofA. The humor and pain in is paintings was evident and the way he told a story through ironic humor just reminded me of you so strongly that I had to stop and catch my breath as I walked around the corner and saw the paintings that blended Hopi clowining and Celtic Mythology. I stayed in the museum for over 3 hours, just burying myself in the art and the ethnology and the culture, and I realized that I had no one to gush to about all that I had seen and felt and experienced, and I walked out into the grey Flagstaff afternoon.I miss you so much.