‘Chew the Wild Side on the Meat’, ‘Punctuality Prospers’ & ‘Hindsight Can Get Hazy’
Allison White is a writer and frequent traveler based in the Los Angeles area. Her work has placed in several screenwriting contests, including the Austin Film Festival for her feature "Waverly". She frequently tells stories of the often vibrant human experience, and what it means to be flawed and loved. She travels all over the world to experience this life, and see what the world has in store for her.
Chew the Wild Side on the Meat
I remember the monumental sight of dry, craggy and fang-like peaks; shooting into the sky from
the jaw of the earth. I was on the trail and the air’s increasing elevation was getting thin. My
phone was off and forgotten in the rig – it wouldn’t work in these mountains, and I wouldn’t
need it for the summer. No connection to the living rush of the concrete flow, back there, in
society. My pack was heavy – I had everything, but experience. Most of life can only be learned
in action – there’s no way to prepare. Happy souls are packed with failure that the rules can’t
teach. All these years since prove the basics true... go green, stoke adventure, manufacture desire
in the primal pumps of your heart and persist to personalized motives. Some flames smoke out
before the spark. I don’t know how the others felt, but I like to get deep, and lost, when I don’t
know what I’m doing... but if you sit and dwell, you never really get down the trail... so get in
thick of discomfort, go on with it, and you’ll never regret it. I repeated phrases and there was no
going back, now. I started to sweat, the trail ran steeply up the hill, and transformed into
switchbacks, cut into the mountainside. We climbed, aimed at the other side, and with each step
we were consumed by the woods. Civilization, the noise of the streets, the pace of society, greed,
the brutal consumption of our hours by corporate production, the hunger of the money machine,
and that illusive societal status, we chase like starvation, and it won’t mean shit when we are
dead; yes, it all started to fade, and our wild senses creeped out. Released by the sight of dead,
flesh chewed bones, which led to a mutilated carcass. Out in the wilderness, you enter the food
chain, and not at a prime position... keep alert, I thought. My legs seared with lactic acid, painful
notifications in the body like the iPhone buzzes when it receives a text. The synapses fired up to
my brain which said, where the hell you going; the damn bar ain’t this far, or fucking difficult, to
get too? I grieved the harsh loss of civilized comforts like sidewalk strolls to boozy ends with
friends, back in town. Change plays soft, false notes, on our memories. I clipped over the last
few yards to the crest of the ridge, and between those peaks in that rugged Idaho wilderness;
from the heights of busted lungs at the top of barrenly beautiful mountains, over raw,
undisturbed, enter-at-your-own-peril, backcountry glory, like observance of the sea pulls you in.
So did the void of that serenely remote, wild landscape. It beckons eyes that need to see the pain
beauty of truth. It’s an itch to be in the moment and connect with Mother Earth’s, the eternal
home and it’s thriving pulse. I stayed in those woods till the snow came, and I’ve never been the
same.
Punctuality Prospers
The day always arrives.
You should too.
The first step to survive.
Hindsight Can Get Hazy
The sun is fresh.
Flames spray the same way as yesterday.
Death is inevitable,
We’re born to be brave,
The tough ages get the extra decay.
Change slowly comes, nothing might occur,
When things get heavy,
You got lines with drugs to blur.
Nicholas Viglietti
