Boulder Hiatus Pending

As a first post in what I hope will become a place to communicate with friends old and new, I would like to say that everywhere I look in Boulder these days I am haunted by old memories that seem to replay in my mind. This is probably because I will be leaving soon for the east coast for a year of travels. Gone... but hopefully not forgotten as I hope to be back soon, but all is uncertain in the future "time-fog," a phrase I think Hunter made up, god bless his drunken soul. Speaking of trips, my lovely fiance, some friendly cohorts and I just got back from Vegas, not for gambling however. We were shooting my final BFA Film about climbing in Red Rock Canyon just a couple miles from the city. Everything went great, we threw in a healthy amount of debauchery for good measure. Ho, ho it was a grand ole time. We all exceled and set personal bests in different areas of our climbing. The last few weeks have been me sitting amidst a stack of mini-DV tapes taking one step forward and eight steps back trying to figure out how to put this she-beast of a film together. Frankly I just hope it's good enough to make me graduate, or else I won't be going anywhere...I am near the end and I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. So friends in Colorado I will step out of my editing cave soon, for one last hurrah...for the time being. Meanwhile here's a poem I wrote for our murderous government. As John Lennon once sung "Give Peace a Chance." Peace!

The Terrorist

Pitter-patter of stomping, falling rain on the mind
Doctor tried to up the prescription, turns out we're all just blind
While the king is in his white house counting all his money
He's made a nasty joke, he laughs but it's not funny

The tanks, the planes, the Jeeps all roll over the blood stained sand
Collateral damage screams in pain, 'cause oil permeates it's land
Hide behind the cross, our god he must be right
Come ye all you simple-minded, git yer gun, murder, fight

The king is on the phone with God calling from the Springs
"It's them terrorist witches from overseas, that do them evil things"
The lord told him that Christian peace was the only way to win
So he hanged 'em high, dropped bombs the sky and cleansed them of their sin

"The Man" they swim and play, in their mansion pools filled with money
Sending the meak, the weak, the poor to do the work thats deathly bloody
Treating human lives like pawns in a game of imperialistic Risk
The real question to ask ourselves is who's the terrorist?

Our collective silence echoes into the night...

Dan Wilder
Friday, March 2 2007
12:00 Noon