I said, "You know, Southwestern art is like those New Guinea birds that have no natural predators. If there is nothing to challenge or question it, it kind of evolves into this fru-fru, lots of funky feathers kind of art."
"Yeah," said Hans, "It gets all fru-fru. Kiwi bird art sucks."
We noticed the well-dressed people, the comfortable coffee shops, and headed for a range of mountains called the "Tucson Mountain Unit", just west of Saguaro National Park". "Give them a wide berth," the Saguaro Ranger had said, telling us the rattlers would be in full force this evening.
So we hiked up, cautious and, in my case, nervous and sweating in the heat. It was lush with death plants - prickly pears and giant dead horned succulents and at one point, Hans and I parted. He, downhill, into a gulch of petroglyphs, finding stick figures and carved scorpion-faced Indians. After our four hour eCross Countryursion into the land of the Saguaro, we washed with cleaning alcohol, and changed to khakis and street shoes, and east, where we met up with Jane, Queen of the Desert.
It had been caffeinated, and hot, all this, along dirt roads, and so it was comfortable to be in the company of Jane, Queen of the Desert. She was the producer of the 5 O'Clock news in Tucson; kind of the veto-power voice for this city of seven hundred thousand; a central figure in the capital city of the great Sonoran. "Are you guys hungry?" She said.
"Actually, we specifically request that you take us out for margaritas." I introduced my brother as a Minnesotan, and, "Don't listen to my brother, he got bit by a kangaroo rat and hasn't been acting right ever since."
Jane, Queen of the Desert, brought wisdom to the sandy hills of Southern Arizona, like Paul Muad'dib, leader of the Fremen on the desert planet of Arakkis, or maybe like Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru of Tatooine. She said, "Its not gee-la monster, its hee-la monster." "Hee-la sounds sissy. I like the hard 'g,'"
Hans said, "It's sissy like southwestern art."
"Southwestern art sucks," Jane, Queen of the Desert, said.
"Yeah, kiwi bird art sucks," Hans said. And she answered our desert questions, like, "Why are all the lights orange in Tucson?"..."Because," she said, "There are observatories in the mountains. We keep the city dark at night so they can see the stars."
We crashed on the floor, and in the morning, we were driving to Los Angeles, with the windows open and the radio playing.
Withered Senita Cactus in the black Pinacate Desert
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