It was 105 degrees in the town of Pine Ridge today.
I'm thinking about how even the crappiest office I worked in at Columbia is worlds better than any OST (Oglala Sioux Tribe, the official title of the tribal government here, according to the feds) office I've visited.
Apparently solar panels can withstand golf ball sized pieces of hail.
There was, by chance, a great jazz song on the radio today as I was coming back from Oglala. I miss hearing live jazz, and jazz in general. My thoughts of New York are of St. Nick's Pub for hours on a weekday night, serenaded by sweet trumpets and keyboard tones.
I'm reaching the middle point of my stay here in Pine Ridge. I feel like I'm on the cusp of something, not sure what. The Black Hills seem closer to me when I look at them nowadays.
South America seems like a dream.
It is ice cream thursday, and tomorrow I'm going to watch a solar panel assembly demonstration--shooooooot. I'll never get tired of this sun.
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I've found myself digging into books again. I finished Sherman Alexie's Tonto and the Lone Ranger Fistfight in Heaven in two days, and have started The Earth Shall Weep: A History of Native America by James Wilson and Skins by Adrian C. Louis. Alexie's book was heartbreaking and comical, sparse and wonderful. Felt like Hemingway and Bukowski living on a reservation--I highly recommend.
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