Castles Made of White Quartz

There is a natural area nearby where we live that I don't like to tell nobody about because every time I've gone there no one else has ever been there and I'd like to keep it that way. Back home in Farmville, Va. (what you got to say?) where I was growed up has changed a lot from the Wal-Mart gutting the downtown to parasitic four-lane stretch south of town where every restaurant and store that is in every other upstart community is situated at, and that was long enough ago that the downtown section has already rebricked itself for a quaint old-timey throwback feel to hopefully trick some high end furniture stores and art galleries into filling up the spaces where it used to be a Goodwill. So my natural habitat has pretty much been destroyed, not just in the grand sense of Farmville being all fucked-up and like a commercial now, but also the 50 acres I used to roam got sold off by my grandfather, so that part of it is a black muslim trailer park, and the other part all got logged, and the main part behind my mom's house with the creeks I used to kick it are still there, but the ambiance is all different now what with it being a very separate thing as opposed to a part of a larger natural area. So this actual bonafide by legal methods "natural area" near my current five-acre compound has become a frequent stop lately, to hike/run the 3 mile loop as part of my P.A.P. training (Personal Armageddon Preparedness), from which I've dropped 30 pounds in a few months. It reminds me a lot of where I'd run when I was younger and getting high after school and wanting to disappear into the pretend wild.
At this nearby area, there's some nice tributary creeks to the Rivanna River, and down in the bottom back part of one, you can follow a creek around a rise and it's a nice little lounging spot, with tons of white quartz everywhere. We were hiking with the kids the other day, and I was getting bored waiting for the girls to get bored of soaking their barefeet in the cold creek (country girls wear no shoes, country boys wear no shirt, country folks get no service), and I just started gathering up some of the quartz to build a little tower. I worked briefly as a stonemason (like three weeks) at the last official place of employment I ever had before wandering off into self-employed nonsenseland, and I also watched like 20 minutes of whatever dude that River and Tides documentary is about. But mostly I just like white quartz and felt like building a tower, because I knew there had to be tons of arrowheads back around there, but I couldn't find them, and I figured if I offered up a tower, then I'd start finding them. I know in my mind that it's like finding four-leaf clovers and you just have to train your eye for it, because if you go looking for them (four-leaf clovers or arrowheads), you won't find shit but frustration. Nonetheless, I figured a good rock sculpture would bring me some good luck. My wife, an art major in college, seemed quite impressed by my 20-minute quartz concoction, I think because she knows how words torment me and can be surprised to see my creative anguish erect its madness in different mediums.
Today was no different than any day recently - broke, not working, not motivated to work what I could work, waking up and praying that the sun won't shine (I'm the reason it's been raining so much in case you were wondering, me and fake god), so I went to that area again, and ended up collecting 33 rocks of various sizes to build another sculpture. This one was impressive as I put a hefty rock upright into the dirty muck of what must've been a flood plain last month, and then I situated another big ass rock (a good 60 to 70 pounds I'd say) on top of it sideways. From there, I had planned to use all 33 rocks, but it kind of finished itself at around twenty-some, so I looked around. This second one was on the little plain area I said, about three feet higher from the first one I built right by the creekbed the first time. So I looked around and figured a three-pronged power point attack of quartz was perfectly appropriate, and I used the leftover rocks to make a triple chick quick brick stack on top of a dead tree sitting sideways like Paul Wall. Except there were three left when I felt like that one was done too. Instead of forcing my self-created parameters onto things and ruining my bullshit with my own bullshit (which is a long-running theme in my life, and most lives probably), I tossed the last three rocks back into the creek. The splash caused me to catch eyeballs on a little triangular-tipped rock that would've easily made a good poison arrow were I in the olden days of nomadic ninja natives who made their own weapons of minor destruction. Digging it up out the creek made me find two more, and those three I situated at odd spots on the edges of the second and third stacks, similar to like how gaudy Chinese man buffets that have those ridiculously large penny fountains at the entrance, with the weird fake rock structure climbing the entire wall, and they'll have a little Buddha statuette tucked into a crevice all secret-like that hardly anybody really notices but you do one day by accident. That's how I tucked my last little three pieces of quartz, one on a really cool ass shelf that the second structure had about a third of the way up, like I actually had known what I was doing as I was doing it.
The white quartz rock sculptures have been very therapeutic, and a great addition to my P.A.P. training regimen. I feel like I'm sort of coming out of some electronic hibernation I had been in for nearly a decade that I didn't even know was going on. Figuring out your own bullshit a lot of times is similar to an onion in that you start peeling back layers and you get to where you think you had to get yourself, but then there's more layers. So you keep going and going and eventually you realize at the center of it all is basically nothing, so get on with it. Which is what I'm doing, even if the rest of things don't get on with it with me. I feel as I'm finding my feet again, the rest of the world isn't necessarily spinning the same way I'm wandering. Which is fine. From what I read recently, the world's spinning off-kilter and Mars is going to crash into us at some point anyways. My little unseen off-path quartz stacks are built precariously where if the world really did spin off-kilter too hard, they'd fall back into the mud, which isn't really mud but just wet dirt. I am figuring personally, much like the haiku project where I wrote 1000 haiku over the course of a few years, I should probably, for my own well-being and proper regard within the way the world does actually spin, build a thousand of these things. I probably couldn't do all one thousand there at the secret natural area I don't want anybody to know about, because then someone would be like, "Hey, some crazy fucker is building all these crazy things out here in the middle of nowhere," and then a ton of dumbasses would always be walking around out there and harsh my life buzz. Life buzzes seem to get harder and harder to get what with all the electronic bzzzzzzz clouding the emotionosphere from these technologically-polluted times, and it seems whenever you are lucky enough to find one of those life buzzes, others are quick to come around and try to tag along and siphon some of that positive energy, and it seems about the only thing you can do anymore is hope to sell some oddball t-shirts your buddy screenprints in his garage before your newfound by the public life buzz is completely decimated.