It is Tuesday afternoon. I have slept a total of three hours since leaving Sunday morning. My sore muscles have long since finished their post-climb revolt, and are now vacationing in the Seychelles without me. The past 72 hours were indescribable. At least the parts I can remember. The other parts--the hazier parts, are only now coming back to me in pieces of keywords: typhoon, bullet trains, flooding, Canadians, rain, big dipper, windbreaking, Mt. Fuji, melon pan at 12,000 ft., breaking wind, fog, headaches, soggy underpants, chapped lips, naked Yakuza, the Wright choice, pacing Hachiko, Yoyogi, tiny Buddha, bloodshot eyes and bated breath.
As soon as my exhausted and completely fractured mind can conjure up some equally fractured connection between all this random information, I'll treat you to another mostly disjointed post.
P.S. To all the kool kids who passed along their best wishes
yesterday, you all rock my freaking face off. For reals.
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