lonesome drives on long, west texas non-roads
i hurt my neck yesterday during my trespass-o-rama drive 50 miles off road to avoid dealing with a pissed off rancher.
at least the safety vest gives them something to shoot at.
mostly, everyone's been too helpful providing information, and i've met some interesting characters: the pink panther, the mexican welder, the shooting rancher. mostly i've stayed in decent motels.
i saw the marfa lights--totally cool. it turns out that marfa is a super artsy town. ate dinner at a super great restaurant there, and half of the customers were speaking french. totally bizarre, really.
i did some concrete work which was fun, too. there's something really special about pouring a pad in 95 degree heat in a place with lots of dark grey rocks and no shade.
tonight, i'm attempting to decompress in del rio, but it's not working. i drove around to see the places that i lived in when i was a very small child. that brought back lots of memories.
the trailer park is gone. that was a happy time for me--a no stress lifestyle of hanging out with my mother and walking to the carniceria and going to the park to fly a kite, and going to play with other little kids.
that's when that kid locked me in a blue toybox and wouldn't let me out. he was 2 years older than me and sat on the lid so i couldn't get out. finally, i gave up and accepted my fate of dying in the toy box.
the house where i fell off the roof of the malibu onto the concrete (1st concussion at age 2) is very much the same, except a different color. that was 28 years ago. the trees have grown. i used to stand in the driveway and watch the garbage man run his truck, and looked forward to seeing the milk man once a week. this is the house where i got busted for wearing makeup and stuffed animal fellatio (i still don't know how i dreamt that one up). i remember my first really good beatings happening in this house. erich was born into this house.
the flying circus appears to have been replaced by an international airport terminal. i called my mother (the unicom girl) to let her know.
my efforts to contact my father have not been fruitful. i asked around at the airport, and everyone just acted like i was crazy. i'm sort of angry that he has gone out of his way to disappear since he sent me a birthday card on my 16th birthday.
that sort of hurts right now. i'm not a fan of this feeling at all.
and it's my own goddamn (my new filler adjective) fault for talking myself down into this hole.
at least the safety vest gives them something to shoot at.
mostly, everyone's been too helpful providing information, and i've met some interesting characters: the pink panther, the mexican welder, the shooting rancher. mostly i've stayed in decent motels.
i saw the marfa lights--totally cool. it turns out that marfa is a super artsy town. ate dinner at a super great restaurant there, and half of the customers were speaking french. totally bizarre, really.
i did some concrete work which was fun, too. there's something really special about pouring a pad in 95 degree heat in a place with lots of dark grey rocks and no shade.
tonight, i'm attempting to decompress in del rio, but it's not working. i drove around to see the places that i lived in when i was a very small child. that brought back lots of memories.
the trailer park is gone. that was a happy time for me--a no stress lifestyle of hanging out with my mother and walking to the carniceria and going to the park to fly a kite, and going to play with other little kids.
that's when that kid locked me in a blue toybox and wouldn't let me out. he was 2 years older than me and sat on the lid so i couldn't get out. finally, i gave up and accepted my fate of dying in the toy box.
the house where i fell off the roof of the malibu onto the concrete (1st concussion at age 2) is very much the same, except a different color. that was 28 years ago. the trees have grown. i used to stand in the driveway and watch the garbage man run his truck, and looked forward to seeing the milk man once a week. this is the house where i got busted for wearing makeup and stuffed animal fellatio (i still don't know how i dreamt that one up). i remember my first really good beatings happening in this house. erich was born into this house.
the flying circus appears to have been replaced by an international airport terminal. i called my mother (the unicom girl) to let her know.
my efforts to contact my father have not been fruitful. i asked around at the airport, and everyone just acted like i was crazy. i'm sort of angry that he has gone out of his way to disappear since he sent me a birthday card on my 16th birthday.
that sort of hurts right now. i'm not a fan of this feeling at all.
and it's my own goddamn (my new filler adjective) fault for talking myself down into this hole.
posted by Jeremy at
7:35 PM
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