Not nailing down reality on Morgan Territory Road. And a vulture.

Morgan Territory Road snakes its way over dry ridge lines and through a brief respite of shady oak woodlands and past old chaw-cheeked rednecks fixing you with menacing but impotent stares from astride their half-dead tick magnets. After a final stretch lined by homes of millionaires, Morgan Territory joins the terminus of Marsh Creek Road--a more interesting path in its upper regions--and dumps you unceremoniously into the town of Clayton. Nothing happens in Clayton worthy of examination; in that regard it is almost worse than Petaluma.

A full examination of this road would cover a lot of ground, but I favor prosciutto-thin slices of real-space, and if you require more I suggest that you get some travel brochures or go to a blog that people actually read. I don't try to understand or describe a road's true nature (if there even is such a thing). It would accomplish nothing to emphasize any particular aspect of what I think it is, or what it says to me about our place in an impersonal cosmos, or how it relates to the Way of Ants Crawling on Oak Bark.

This turkey vulture did not want to leave Morgan Territory Road just to provide me with an opportunity to record him as he took to the air. I don't have a GoPro or any other mountable camera. Riding while holding an iPhone in one hand is stupid. This is what we have, then--a stubborn carrion eater, a fixed wide angle lens on a cell phone, and a road. Infer nothing else. Sometimes, the search for meaning renders it moot.

© Pseudocognitive