year 2017, week 08.


My stories are personal accounts of events that have yet to pass. The struggles that the human race will face in the not so distant future. They are also timeless in that the events can happen in the past present and future. All at the same time. Time and truth are foundations of a society's structure. And that society is no longer relevant.
I hope in telling them that they will turn into fiction. That a call to the current generation of the human race will find my words as a call to arms. A call to arms against monetary superiority.
-the last journal entry of fellow time traveler Mark Simenson.


I want to write about my new religion. Unlike the other major religions, this one is not so much of a choice. Although it can be asked of me why I choose to practice it and that is a fair enough question. So I hope you find that answer in my explanation.

I use my iPhone for an alarm clock. It wakes me at 5:30 am on weekdays. My daughter wakes me up around that time on weekends. But I am getting off topic. I wake up and promptly let the dog out and make coffee. Grind the beans, fill with water. Let the dog back in.

The ritual habit of waking up is the prelude to the daily religious act that follows. By 7:00 am I am out the door and in my truck. I prepare myself for the next 30–45 minutes of what I have come to call my religious experience. Driving on the road to work I am staring into the rising sun and I am joined by countless others in their cars. Together we all meet here and pray to this ball of gas to let us arrive at work safe.

By the time the Rio Grande comes into view we, now a collective mass, have found a slow steady mantra. We chant. Moving east. Eyes watering. Souls growing.


Once I preformed the ritual for a few weeks I became accustomed to the pain in my eyes. The rays of the sun have opened holes in them and now can penetrate my soul. Now the true enlightenment can begin.

I move forward. Slowly toward the sun. Every morning of the work week. With all the other schmucks/working stiffs/slaves of the man.

My service ends as I arrive at work and enter the florescent world. Held captive for the next 9 hours. Away from my god. Away from my journey.


As much as I love my florescent reprieve from my religious practice it only makes the afternoon session that much more powerful. Exhausted from work I get into my truck and head west. Toward the now setting sun. With less energy distracting me the sun quickly begins to fill my soul. I rejoin the masses on the roads and again we collectively pray.

We give thanks that our work is over. That we will soon be with our families again. We accelerate. Then brake. Moving west in a pattern that resembles the rise and fall of your chest while you sleep.


So what do I gain from this religious practice? What I am gaining it the ability to transition from my work self to my home self. The benefits of that transition became apparent pretty fast. And once I became aware of it I started to better myself with it.

Why spend 1–2 hours a day commuting? Driving into the sun? Why not live closer to work? Or why not work closer to where you live? Great questions. They are ones I asked myself. Then I looked at buying a house near where I work. Two main reasons. One, the cost is stupid for the age of the homes. Two, the crime I see on a daily basis is not where I want to raise a family. As for working where I live, well there is virtually no firms close to my house let alone on the west side of the river.

You see, Albuquerque has designated the west side of the river for its subdivisions sprawl. There are some small areas for commercial buildings, but these are quickly filled with chain restaurants and chain drug stores. The remaining few spaces that small local companies have left are often not optimal for my type of work, instead more consumer stores fill the bill. Even a company with 60% of employees living on the west side and 80% of their future employees coming from there, they choose to stay on the east side of the river. Closer to existing/established infrastructure.