”pebble beach”
The escarpment of the Sierra Nevada Mountains hung within my sidelong view as we made our way along the watershed towards Mono Lake. It had been forever and a day since I had come up this way, especially whenever I came up to Yosemite with my parents and my brother, it was on the other side of the valley coming in from the Central Valley. I leaned back in the faded leather backseat with one arm up on the top, and I let my curls dangle down over my shoulder like one of the waterfalls over in the other valley. Eric and Lou were huddled down in the front seats as if they were a couple of bobsleigh pilots, even though it was a beautiful day there in the eastern Sierras.
“Have you even been on this road before?” Lou asked him at one point.
“What, Tioga Road?” Eric replied. “Yeah, a couple of times before. It’s a a rare occurrence, though, because it’s closed ten months out of the year.”
I hadn’t been on there since I was a kid, and back then, from what I recalled, things were pushing it. The middle of June and there were still pockets of snow around the cliffs, and Sonora was still closed to top it off as well.
All I told Lou was to not look down once we neared the peak of the pass. And it made better sense to me to be behind Eric all the way up. I was so relieved to be in that car with them, although I knew I would have to go back with Chuck as well as Joey
It was the middle of the day, with the sun beating down on my head and shoulders, and yet I could feel the cold of the mountains right before us like this gigantic wall of iron.
The highway wound down to a tight bend and we found ourselves in the small town of Lee Vining, complete with a view of Mono Lake: all I recalled of that lake was Mark Twain had written about it and I had no desire to head on down to the shoreline after that.
Eric took to the next left turn and we were headed up Tioga Road. Those cold mountains stared down at us as if we were facing some kind of gods who were about to judge us; the brick lodge right after the turn-off felt like the last bit of comfort for a while.
The trees were thick and lush, and the hills guided us up along that road as if we were ascending into the sky above. I swore that I was the one climbing and not Eric, and it was times like that I wished that I was better at photography. We were passing by the Ansel Adams Wilderness in all its rugged glory: how I wished to look beyond the high spires of peaks and down into the glassy lake and that vast valley as well. Everything about that initial stint of the road only made me want to explore more.
Explore more, and of myself as well.
We made our way upwards, and all I could think about was what we could do once we got into Yosemite. All I knew was those three boys who called themselves Green Day were supposed to meet us there at the campground for the next week. I hoped that I wouldn’t have to sleep in the same tent with Chuck because I was enjoying the sun on my face and the views before me. Everything was so rugged and rough as if it had been left untouched this whole entire time.
I gazed out to the drop below the other side of the railing and I spotted the glassy lake at the very bottom. Even with the royalty in place and with the ring on my finger, I vowed to always be as soft as that water. As soft and tender as that glassy water.
My ears popped and Chuck from Florida burst into my mind. I wished he was there in the backseat with me and we could relish in the view together. Indeed, I peered over to the seat next to me and I pictured him there, those thick lush curls sprawled around his shoulders as if he had dunked his head into those lake waters down below and let the cool mountain air dry him off. Those eyes, as blue as the granite walls that surrounded us as we continued to ascend into the heavens.
I really believed that we were headed straight for another world, one that chilled down with each passing mile. Lou peered out the window to the cliffs on the other side of the road: I saw him visually swallow, and I knew that we must have been high up.
I shivered at the sight of everything outside of the car; Lou breathed on the window and made a peace sign in the condensation.
“Jesus,” Eric muttered as he switched on the heater. Our sweatshirts were packed in the trunk given it was warm down in the valley before we left, and yet something told me that I was going to be cuddled down in the safety of my own for the entire trip. I hunkered down in the seat: how I wished to be held close in a warm blanket right then.
The road kept going up into the mountains, and something ran through my mind that told me we were about to drive off the edge of the road at any given moment.
Now I understood as to why the pass was closed out of most of the year.
I peered out the window to the view down below us, the final glimpse out to the valley before we ducked away into the mountains themselves, the last glimpse back to that glassy oasis down below and the final moment of paradise before we persisted into the craggy mountains before us.
I rubbed my upper arms with my hands. If nothing else, I hoped that Eric would have a horse blanket there in the backseat, not just for myself but for him and Lou, too, and the three of us could huddle down together.
Eric himself glimpsed into the rear-view mirror for a look at me.
“You warm enough back there, Alex?” he called back to me.
“I have got this persistent chill up my spine right now,” I told him.
“Yeah, we do, too. I hope we level out here soon—”
We rounded a bend and beheld the view of the vast canyon, still capped with snow from the blizzards of the winter before. The trees decorated the landscape as if they were made of chocolate and powdered sugar; on my side of the road was a steep drop into the abyss. My head spun and my ears popped; I turned my attention to Eric right as he rubbed his temple with one hand.
We passed a sign that read eleven thousand feet, and I could feel my fingers and toes tingling. Lou ran his fingers through his hair and breathed a bit harder than usual. I peered out the window to the towering peak on the right side of the road.
The road peaked at a crest and then dipped down a bit: I spotted what appeared to be a toll booth for the entrance fee into Yosemite up ahead, complete with three other cars in line there. I was just eager to be on the other side of the pass down in the valley again. We must have reached the top at some point if we hadn’t already. The mountain peaks surrounded us like a series of meringue peaks: for a moment, I believed that we had entered the land of all things sweet and decadent.
When we reached the booth, I took off my sunglasses and rubbed my eyes.
“Ninety-nine hundred feet, just shy of the century-century mark,” Lou remarked. “And I swore we were there just a few minutes ago.”
“I feel it,” Eric told him as he continuously massaged his temple.
“Yeah, I do, too,” I added; my head would not stop spinning. “Helps that we’re basically coming up from sea level.” All I wanted to do was lay down and cuddle, and it didn’t help matters that the line seemed to inch along the pavement. I leaned forward and rested my elbows on either top of the seat before me; Eric leaned over the rim of the steering wheel and kept his fingers on his temple. He peered over his sunglasses at me.
“I can’t remember the last time I had vertigo like this,” I confessed.
“My head is just pounding,” he told me.
“You know, I’ve heard Viagra helps with altitude sickness,” Lou informed us, who looked to be the only one not affected by it, but his skin had washed out to the same color as a sheet. He let out a low whistle, and he turned his attention back to the road before us.
“I’ve heard that, too,” I said with a few quick breaths. “Let’s ask the ranger about it.”
We inched ahead and Eric rolled down the window: the cold swept over us, and all I wanted was my sweater and a blanket. I held still as I tried to not think about my head spinning. The first thing I would do, once we reached the valley floor, was find something to eat and then feel the spray from the waterfall on my face.
We inched ahead to the toll booth where we were greeted by the ranger, an older gentleman with these big black leather gloves much like the ones Lou wore sometimes for his drumming.
“Do you have anything for altitude sickness?” Eric asked him as he paid the fee; it was right then I noticed he sounded more out of breath than usual. “All three of us aren’t doing too well.”
“Uh, yeah! I’ve got some pain pills in here with me, and things to help with blood pressure. I’ll suggest drinking more water and eating more, too, especially if you’re going to come back this way or hang around the mountain peaks here for a while.”
“Can do,” I said with a shake of my head, and my head spun even more.
“Keep the window rolled up until you reach the valley floor, too,” he advised us. “Staying warm will keep your blood flowing. But if you boys are desperate—” And he turned back into the booth for something.
“Yeah, I worry especially because I’m driving,” Eric told him, and the man handed him a small bottle of aspirin and a little white box, and I could already see those little blue pills inside.
“You fellas be safe up here for us all, okay?”
“Always,” Lou assured him.
“Yeah, thank you,” I called out to him.
“Thank you so much,” Eric added as he held the bottle and the box in his lap: he darted ahead to the first bend in the road just so we could take our medicine.
“Alex, you got any water?” he asked me as he rolled up the window; almost immediately, it warmed up again in there.
“Plenty.”
Eric opened the box for us, although I had a feeling that the pain pills would help us just as easy. But the next thing I knew, I was taking a blue pill. Eric and Lou did as well.
We drank our water down, and then Eric ran his fingers through his jet-black hair.
“Okay, where’s our campground at?” he asked us.
“It’s coming up here, isn’t it?” Lou recalled, still out of breath.
“I wrote it down…” Eric reached over to the glove box for something, and I peered back into the very back of the car for anything to keep myself warm.
“Yeah, Tuolomne Meadows,” he informed us. “I think it’s coming up here in a few minutes.” He closed the door, and I caught the sound of hesitation up there in the front seat. “What’re you looking for, brother?”
“Me?” I asked him as I turned back around, and my head spun some more. “Do you have a blanket in here or something?”
“In the trunk, yeah. Would you like it?”
“Please. I am just freezing back here.”
Eric kindly picked out the big heavy horse blanket for me, to which I wrapped it around my body once we got moving again. The spinning in my head persisted a bit as we made our way along the road more towards the meadow in question. The trees were so thick and lush, and most of them still blanketed with snow. I spotted the hulking silhouette of Half Dome off in the distance, and I knew that once we got down into the valley floor, our heads wouldn’t be hammering so much.
I thought about what the ranger had told us in that we had to eat more to keep the feeling of the altitude in check. Indeed, I was feeling hungry as the road dipped down and gently meandered with the coldest-looking river I had ever seen in my life. In fact, something told me that I could eat enough for three people right then.
I wanted to eat once we reached our campsite, and I hoped that those three boys had beat us to the punchline there because it was all I could think about. I had no idea if it was the altitude or not but for a moment, I believed I was seeing things. The fact the mountains resembled to meringue, the chocolate look of the trees, the fact that I was hungry… this was a far more potent high than any joint that I had ever touched in seventh grade.
The trees thinned out and we were met with the vast meadow in question, with the thick, lush grass interspersed with such cold, glassy waters. The sun shone down on us without a cloud to obscure anything: even with it being cold, the sunshine made everything so bright and crystal clear.
Billie Joe, Mike, and Tré had already checked into their reservation and pitched a tent for themselves at a spot, one nestled between the trees and near a small waterfall. I peered behind us to the towering mountain which bestowed the waterfall: my head proceeded to spin once again, but at least I had something to balance me.
The spray from the waterfall touched me on the side of the face: it made me think of all the heat waves over the Bay Area as a kid, and I would stand in front of a swamp cooler; this was the damp feeling of that on steroids.
The smell of pine surrounded the three of us like a veil, and I tilted my head back to feel the afternoon sun and the spray of the falls on my face. All I knew was we had to return to camp soon enough to put up our tents and then eat a bunch of food to keep the sickness away, that is if we saw those three boys up at the top of the waterfall.
And then I realized we had taken Viagra once we had entered the park.
“Alex?” Eric breathed right into my ear over the noise of the waterfall. I turned to face him and the hooded look to his eyes. I really believed that I was hallucinating right then, hallucinating from the hunger, the altitude, and the rush of blood straight to my head.
“You wanna take a walk with me?” he offered me. “Take a walk and look for something to eat?”
“Isn’t there a pie stand or two right on the other side of the trees here?” I asked him.
“There’s a pie stand and a market,” he added as he nudged a lock of hair behind my ear. “We’ll come back and surprise those three dudes with all the goods we’ve picked up.”
“Let’s get two blackberry, two pecan, two apple, three cherry, three blueberry, a chocolate, a lemon, and a peach,” I suggested. “I dunno about you but I could literally eat a pie and a cake right now.”
“A pie and a cake, and you wouldn’t be able to fit into the sleeping bag,” he quipped as he ran his hand down my belly. I peered up to the scraggly dogwood trees and pearly white birches that surrounded us: I had no memory of how we got there to that particular spot in the trees, right by the river and the waterfall, but he was touching me, and he was coming close to me, and I was leaning my back to the birch behind me.
“Eric… are you feeling what I’m feeling right now?” I asked him with a rubbing of my forehead with my temples. It reminded me of the times I would get high and I had the strangest euphoria every time the paper hit my tongue.
“Headache and vertigo from being so high up and intense hunger from that and the fact we haven’t eaten since we left this morning? You bet your booty that’s what it is.”
“No, I mean… the fact the ranger gave us Viagra for the altitude.”
He showed me his tongue before he crammed it into my mouth.
We were hallucinating and horny, and I had no idea about him but I had no restraint whatsoever. I put my arms up over my head as he reached down my pants to feel me. I could feel that I was already hard, harder than I had ever been, as hard as the cold stony mountains all around us.
“Eric—” I gasped from the feeling. “Eric—what if they hear us?”
“They won’t hear us,” he assured me with a breath of a whisper right into my ear. “They won’t hear us here down by the waterfall.”
“What if they see us?” I choked out again.
“We’re way down here, and they’re way up there,” he assured me again, that time with a grasp onto my fat one. He held onto me for a brief moment before he rubbed up against me. He was as big as I had ever felt before, and I had nothing to hold me back, either.
We were doing it outside, and I had not a care in the world about it. We were doing it outside, and I could feel everything. I could feel everything even with my head lost in the realm of the altitude. We were going to have a bunch of pie and curl up under the blanket and the sleeping bag afterwards, but we had the blue pills to take care of at first. Blue pills like little pebbles that led us to that nook in the trees.
I ran my fingers through his black hair, and I treated him to a tongue lashing and a groan right into his ear. His lips on my neck. His tongue in my ear. Our flesh against itself. One of us was going to come first.
The spray from the waterfall and the veil of the birches protected us from any onlookers. I leaned my head back against the tree trunk again as he sank in deep, as deep as he could go with me. I realized he was getting me right in the prostate as well as grinding up against me.
I parted my lips and let out a low moan, one that buried itself under the roar of the waterfall. Those three boys were going to be in for a treat of sorts should they descend from the towers behind us. But Eric twirled his fingers around the locks of hair at the back of my head and slithered his tongue into my mouth to finish the job.
“Let’s get down to it again when we get the tent set up,” I whispered into his ear right then.
“You got it, big boy,” Eric whispered to me; he reached down and touched me again, and he showed me a little smirk. “You wanna get down with Lou, too?”
“May as well,” I said in a broken voice. “You’re still hard as stone, too.”
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names, mostly surnames (1)
let me apologise for this partial list of names in the library, titles available on request...
, Adorno, horkheimer, anderson, aristotle, greta adorno, marcuse, agamben, acampora and acampora, althussar, lajac kovacic, eric alliez, marc auge, attali, francis bacon (16th c), aries, aries and bejin, alain badiou, beckett, hallward, barnes, bachelard, bahktin, volshinov, baudrillard, barthes, john beattie, medvedev, henri bergson, Jacques Bidet, berkman, zybmunt bauman, burgin, baugh, sam butler, ulrich beck, andrew benjamin and peter osbourne, walter benjamin, ernest bloch, blanchot, bruzins, bonnet, karin bojs, bourdieu, j.d. bernal, goldsmith, benveniste, braidotti, brecht, burch, victor serge, andre breton, judith butler, malcolm bull, stanley cohen, john berger, etienne balibar, david bohm, gans blumenberg, martin buber, christopher caudwell, micel callon, albert camus, agnes callard, castoridis, claudio celis bueno, carchedi and roberts, Marisol de la cadena, mario blaser, nancy cartwright, manual castells, mark currie, collingwood, canguilhem, mario corti, stuart hall, 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may, machiavelli, richard mabey, john mullzrkey, meyerhold, edward braun, magri, murray, nathanial lichfield, noelle mcafee, hans meyer, ouspensky, lucretius, asa briggs, william morris, christian metz, laura mulvey, len masterman, karl mannheim, louis marin, alaister reynolds, antonio munoz molina, FRAZER, arno schmidt, dinae waldman, mark rothko, cornwall, micheal snow, sophie henaff, scarlett thomas, matuszewski, lillya brik, rosamond lehman , morris and o’conner, nina bawden, cora sandel, delafield, storm jameson, lovi , rachel ferguson, stevie smith, pat barker, miles franklin, fay weldon, crista wolff, grace paley, v. woolf, naomi mitchinson, sheila rowbotham, e, somerville and v ross, sander marai, jose saramago, strugatsky, jean echenoz, mark robso, vladimir Vernadsky, chris marker, Kim Stanley Robinson, mario leverdo, r.a. lafferty, martin bax, mcaulay, tatyana tolstaya, colinn kapp, jonathan meades, franco fortini, sam delany, philip e high, h.g. adler, feng menglong, adam 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ted white, sheckley, kristof, kempowski, shingo, angelica groodischer, rolin, galeanom dobin, richard holloway, pohl and kornbulth, e.r. eddison, ken macleodm aldiss, dave hutchinson, alfred bester, budrys, pynchon, kurkov, wisniewski_snerg, , kenji miyazawa, dante, laidlaw, paek nam_nyong, maspero, colohouquon, hernandez, christina hesselholdt, claude simon, bulgaakov, simak, verissimo, sorokin, sarraute, prevert, celan, bachmann, mervin peake, olaf stapledon, sa rohmer, robert musil, le clezio, jeremy cooper, zambra, giorgio de chirico, mjax frisch, gawron, daumal, tomzza, canetti, framcois maspero, de quincy, defoe, green,, greene, marani, bellatin, khury, tapinar,, richmal crompton, durrenmat, fritz, quintane, volponi, nanni balestrini, herrera, robert walser, duras, peter stamm, m foster, lan wright, their theotokism agustn de rojas, paul eluard, sturgeon, hiromi kawakomi, sayaka murata, wolfgang hilbig, hmilton, z zivkovic, gersson, mallo, bird, chaudrey, Toussaint, Can Xue, Lewis Mumford, neitzsche, popper, zizek, scott westerfield, rousseau, lewis munford, tod may, penelope maddy, elaine marks, isabelle courtivron, leroi, massumi, david sterritt, godard, millican and clark, macabe, negri, mauss, maiimon, patrica maccormack, moretti, courtney humphries, monad, moyn, malina, picasso, goldman, dambisa moyo, merleau-ponty, Nicholson, knobe and nichols, poinciore, morris, ovid, ming, nail, thomas more, richard mabey, macfarlane, piscator, louis-stempal, negrastini, moore, jacquline rose, rose and rose, ryle, roszick, rosenburg, ravisson, paul ricoer, rossler, chantl mouffe, david reiff, plato, slater, rowlands, rosa, john roberts, rhan, dubios and rousseau, ronell, jacques ranciere, mallarme, quinodoz, peterpelbert, mary poovey, mackenzie, andrew price, opopper, roger penrose, lu cino parisi, gavin rae, parker and pollack, mirowoski, perniola, postman, panofsky, propp, paschke and rodel, andre pickering, massabuau, lars svenddsen, rosenberg and whyte, t.l.s. sprigger, nancy armstrong, sallis, dale spender, stanislavski, vanessa schwartz, shapin and shaeffer, sally sedgewick, signs, gabriel tarde, charles singer, adam smith, simondon, pascal chablt, combes, jon roffee, edward said, sen, nik farrell fox, sartre, fred emery, scholes, herbert spencer, ruth saw, spinoza, raphael sassower, henry sidgewick, peter singer, katarznya de lazari-radek, piaget, podach, van der post, on fire, one press, melossi and pavarini, pearl and mackenzie, theirry paquot, tanizaki, RHS, stone, richard sennett, graham priest, osborn and pagnell, substance, pedrag cicovacki, schilthuizen, susan sontag, gillian rose, nikolas rose, g rattery taylor, rose, rajan, stuart sim, max raphael, media culture and society, heller- roazen, rid, root, rossi, gramsci, showstack sasson, david roden, adrew ross, rosenvallion, pauliina remes, pkato, peter sloterdijk, tamsin shaw, george simmel, bullock and trombley, mark francis, alain supiot, suvin, mullen and suvin, stroma, maimonides, van vogt, the clouds on unknowing, enclotic, thesis 11, spivack, kate raworth, h.w. richardson, hillial schwartz, stern, rebecca solnit, rowland parker, pickering, lukacs, epicriud, epicetus, lucrtious, aurelies, w.j.oates, thor Hanson, thompson, mabey, sheldrake, eatherley, plato, jeffries, dorothy richardson, arno schmidt, earl derr biggersm mary borden, birrel, arno schmidt, o.a. henty, berhard steigler, victor serge, smith, joyce salisbury, pauer-studer, timpanaro, s helling, schlor, norman and welchman, searle, emanuele severarimo, tomasello, sklar, judith singer, walmisley, thomas malthus, quentin meilassoux, alberto meelucchi, mingione, rurnbull, said, spufford and uglow, zone, j.j.c. smartt, sandel, skater, songe-moller, strawson, strawson, strawson, raymond tallis, toscano, turkle, tiqquin, diggins, j.s. ogilivy, w.w. hutchings, rackgam, deiter roth, dowell, red notes, campbell and pryce,osip brik, lilya brik, mayakovsky, zone, alvin toffker, st exupery, freya 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zeldin, wenders, henry miller, wenkler, arrighi, banks, innes, ushereood, kristeva, john cage, quignard, t.f. powys, siri hustveldt, lem, zelazny, mitchonson, tsilolkovsky, toussaint, heppenstall, garrigasait, de kerangal, haine fenn, jean bloch, geoff ryman, reve, corey, asemkulov, ernaux, gareth powell, cory, deleuze and guattari studies, cse, allain and souvestre, apolinaire, jane austen, john arden, aitmatov, elizabth von arnim, paul auster, abish, ackroyd, tom gunn, lorca, akhmatov, artuad, simon armatige, albahari, felipe alfau, audem auden and soendor, varicco, barrico, bainbridge, asturias, ronan bennett, beckett, paul bowles, jane bowles, celine, bukowski, wu ming, blissert, kay boyle, andrei bely, hugo barnacle, BOLL, isak dineson, karen blikson, brodsky, richmel crompton, berry, barthleme, mary butts, leonora carrington, cage, chevhillard, canetti, cendres, butor, cortazar, danielewski, bertha damon, dyer, havier cercas, micheal dibden, marguerite duras, john donne, duras, durrell, dorrie, Fredric durrenmatt, heppenstahl, eco, enzensberger, evanovich, fruentes, farrell, alison fell, alisdair gray, hollinhurst, andre gide, jean giono, gadda, henry green, grass, andre gorz, william gibson, joyce, gombrowitz, alex laishley, murakami, herve guibert, franz kafka, juenger, junker, kapuscinski, laurie king, kundera, mcewan, ken macleod, ian macdonald, moers, meades, vonda macintyre, nalmstom, maillert, havier marias, jeff noon, anaus nin, david nobbs, peter nadas, nabokov, iakley, oates, raymond queneau, cesare pavese, paterson, ponge, perte, perec, chinery, ovid, genette, kandinsky, robert pinget, richard piwers, rouvaud, sloan, surrralist poetry, ilya troyanov, paul,raabe, julien rios, arne dahl, pierre sollers, rodrigruez, chris ross, renate rasp, ruiz, rulfo, tove jannsson, cabre, vladislavic, tokarczuk, pessoa, jane bowles, calvino, lispector, lydia davis, can xue, sebald, peter tripp, hertzberg, virginia woolf, zozola, sorrentino, higgins, v.w. straka, cogman, freud, jung, klein, winnecot, lacan, fordham, samuels, jung, freud, appignesai, bjp, pullman, magnam, sybil marshall, mccarten, galbraith, jewell, lehmann, levy, levin, jung, spinoza, fairburn, jung, sandler, lacan, laplanche, pontalis, can, xue, klein, cavelli, hawkins, stevens, hanna segal, bollas, welldon, williams, sutherland, buon, symington, morrison, brittain, sidoli, sidoli, holmes, bowlby, winnecott, bollas, kalschiid, malan, patrick casement, anna frued, wittenburg, liz wright, fordham, fairburn, symington, sandler, jung, balint, coltart, west, steiner, van der post, stern, green, roustang, adrew samuels, d.l. sayers, salom, krassner, swain, rame and fo, storr, cogman, hessen, penelope fitzgerald, cummings, richard holloway, juhea kim, glenville, heyer, cartland, kim, cho, atkinson, james, king, audten, hartley, du maurier, bronte, thomas, plath, leon, camillairi, kaussar, fred fargas, boyd, sjowall and wahloo, pheby, morenno-garcia, perrsson, herron, nicola barker, arronovitch, karen lord, stephen frosh, ernest jones, flamm o’brien, shin, mishra, chin jin-young and so on to the warm horizon
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