3033

Portland:

Drank entirely too much boxed wine and did some very, unexplainably bad, things. eh. Finally saw some live music, but don't remember who they were. All in all, had a very good time, while staying very drunk/hungover. And I somehow managed to break my laptop. Fuck.

Since the laptop is being a bitch, our music choices are pretty slim for the remainder of this trip. In Rainbows (both discs!), a mix of Violent Femmes, The Devil Makes Three, and some very scratched Leda CDs. Yesterday we learned that Seattle's radio is just as bad as every other city's while trying to find ghetto jams in the mess of whining country about dead puppies and battered wives or some shit. eh.

Oh, Seattle:

Arrived yesterday and waited around for my friendie Sarah to get out of school. Saw the space needle and bought some postcards for my brother that he won't even get until I'm already back. Very odd. Took some pictures, which I can't post, which sucks, a lot. Drove around eating fruity pebbles and checking out hot bitches. 99 cent tacos are both revolting and delicious at the same time...fake cheese and beef like dog food.

So Sarah called me. We got lost and then found it. Sat around discussing film for awhile, which apparently comes with a very heavy workload for the students. The Seattle night life was awesome. Played trivia in a bar, the only questions we knew came from the Wayne's World category, which was a movie I don't remember liking all that much. Cults and Track and Field and Greek Mythology kicked our asses, which is what happens after switching to whiskey. Needless to say we didn't win a free pitcher, but I did spend gas money on pbrs, so we'll definitely be jugging back to FL. I actually remembered to pay my tab (for the first time in my life). We dragged ass to IHOP to consume fried fat and cholesterol, which is always the most delicious thing you've ever tasted when your slurring your speech and stumbling about. They post all the calories here, even though there's still fast food on the corners. I'm unable to understand this noise....if you're going to eat it and you know it's complete shit then why do you even want to know? Anorexia would become a viable option.

We leave today. 3033 miles...500-ish miles a day...we could be back in 6 days.

What am I going to do with reality? Fuck.

My computer is fucked. Very much broken.

Updates will be few and far....

Not going to sit around drinking wine all day and making mistakes with my phone. Atleast not until afternoon.

Bin Laden didn't blow up the projects

It was you.

I got a stupid picture bullshit.

Cava: http://www.flickr.com/photos/headsonsticks

We've got heads on sticks

Champagne don't make me lazy, cocaine don't make me crazy

Portland, finally.

MD2020 is some wretched shit. Cheap. Technicolor. Sugar coated blackout in a bottle.

Last night we went to a gas station that had locks on the booze fridges. Asking for the key makes you feel like a complete alcoholic, which you'll be taken for anyway because you're buzzed and look like a hobo. Awesome.

Fun fact for the day: Portland has the most strip clubs per capita. They even have a pirate-themed one. Needless to say, we've got to see that shit. Half naked bitches with peg legs? I'm there.

She feels so washed out

Eugene, OR

The last few days in Medford went rather smoothly. Ate entirely too much and got better at crossword puzzles. Played in the snow at Crater Lake. Saw the Oregon coast, which is a lot like the Florida coast, but more brutal. Held my breath and sent out "It's been nice knowing you" texts as Kevin drove on the edge of cliffs with a clenched jaw and threats for anyone that got in his way.

We arrived in Eugene early this evening and eventually found Dennis' (Dru's uncle) home. This guy has been everywhere. In my best dreams of traveling I am this guy....he transformed the inside of a school bus into a camper and traveled across the country. Another time he drove across the country to live at a commune. Currently, he owns a home in Panama and the one here in Eugene and travels around the world with his wife dancing the tango. Shortly after arriving I got the drink that I've been needing since I walked through that door in Medford. Can't remember the name of the beer, but it was dark and strong and liberating. Food came next, which was delicious, but killed my buzz...very unfortunate.

Tomorrow, Portland. For threefourfive days.

A couple weeks, Florida.

Hopefully, New York.

Dying
Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.

I want this tattooed on my body

Gotta get to Portland.

After this trip, I'll never settle down again.

Fuck it.

"I never did anything to hurt you."

Medford.

Arrived Sunday night after a full day of driving filled with me in a panic and wanting to sick up.

Went to my grandparents' house. My dad answered the door and I didn't recognize him. Hugs and "I've missed you so much" all around. Felt very detached. He had the full water works going, apologies and love and such. Managed to become numb, hollow, and in desperate need of a smoke and a shot.

Disappointed? No. Did I have expectations? No. They haven't invented words for right now.

I got nothing. Here's what I journaled last night, maybe it will make sense.

04/13

Sitting outside thinking "I can see my breath" and doing that awkward thing where you open your mouth, form a wide circle, and push out all the air in your lungs. Like a kid in the snow. Cold air rushes in and it burns. I'm staring at an empty street, full stomach, organs reacting all wrong, skipping beats like stones. Feeling haunted but I don't believe in ghosts, so even my thoughts are all wrong. I'm sitting like this, with a salt and pepper cat at my feet, and I'm waiting for a car to drive up. Get bored of seeing my own breath and realize, "Who the fuck am I waiting for?". The chair is cold, my fingers are numb, but I can't shake this feeling. This thought that someone is coming. Any minute I'll hop in the passenger seat, rubbing frozen hands together that sound like sandpaper but don't feel at all. It'll be warm inside and we'll smile at eachother. I'll look back at the now empty chair, the still and lonely cat next to it, the half cigarette left burning in the ashtray. Any second it will happen but the street is still empty and the only sound here is the obnoxious tinkle of windchimes. The lights are on inside the houses and the news is on behind me, but no one is coming and Mr. Salt and pepper is cold. I'm outside of it, haunted by more than ghosts and today you said "I never did anything to hurt you" with my name tagged on for emphasis. If I could have made a sound without having to feel too much I would have told you. I would have pushed my words into your ear. I would have repeated until you had to believe it, "You just did".

Drowning in a lake of yuppies.

Lake Tahoe:

This morning we started the drive from whatever shit hole town we stopped in to sleep to Lake Tahoe. Stopped at a rest stop because it had copious amounts of snow. We ran around like idiots until our smoker's lungs sent us back to the car. Leda Leda (the boogie board that stands in for all the times that my best friend Leda should be there but can't be) came out to play. We tried going down some hills with it, which was much less extreme/dangerous than I was hoping.

Moi: We're about to take a boogie board down this hill!

Mom: What?! I don't want to hear you breaking your legs!

Moi: No, it's okay. Andrew is going first.

No broken legs. Not even a bruise. How very unexciting.

After the "extreme" sports we drove to Tahoe. Got in the general vacinity (mountains and cliffs and locals that know what they're doing) and it started snowing a bit. Dru broke his driving-through-snow cherry while I stuck my head out the window like a complete idiot.

Camping tonight. Should be utterly fucking freezing. In case we drive off a cliff/lose all appendages to frostbite/get eaten by bears, I love you all. Now go buy some whiskey and overnight it to me. Oh. And. Before you watch the following video, don't you dare judge me. I was overexcited. Overstimulated. Drank too much coffee. So on and so forth.

Fuck fuckity fuck

I just now, quite painfully, remembered the original point of this whole trip.

I'm fucking scared to death.

I need an address. Or a phone number.

Completely hypothetically, let's say you drove across the country to confront your dead beat father and his complete lack of parenting skills...would you call first? Or just show up?

Knock knock.

Who's there?

You owe me a drink.

Everything hits at once

Ughhhhhhhhhh.

Today was one of those days where absolutely nothing, not one damn thing, went right. Not even close.

We stayed in Albuquerque again last night. Played a game involving some form of hacky sack mixed with tennis....sort of. Hard to explain, but a very good time. I'm sorry to have to inform you, but I am a giant dork. I don't like going to sketchy places. I won't jump a fence. In this aspect I am the epitome of a party pooper. The icing on that cake was the comment "She just gets like this sometimes". Sorrys all around, but seriously, big fucking deal.

Another sleepless night and we woke up later than we had meant to. Didn't get to shower or change clothes and felt all gross and disgusted. Drank too much coffee and headed to Flagstaff around 4, a good 3 hours later than we should have. I wanted to take pictures of the desert, but the golden arches and trashed casino signs kept getting in the way. Got a call from home that left me a bit wrecked, concerned, and more anxious than I've been since Sta. Considered hiding in the rest stop bathroom for a couple days but it smelled like farts and cat urine (all the rest stops off I-40 smell like this, the air reeks with it as soon as you get off the interstate). Drove towards Flagstaff, hands shaking and grinding my teeth and all that fucked up noise. Controlled a major panic attack; looking back now, having that ability was the high point of the day.

So, Flagstaff. Splurged and ate at Dennys and regretted it. Then we drove around trying to find hotels to steal wireless from while also trying to locate the Wal-Mart that we planned on sleeping at. Found a Sam's that wasn't 24 hours, Fuck. Enough time passed for Dru and I to go from able and willing to completely delirious and pissed off at everthing/everyone/maybe even eachother. Kept rolling cigarettes that kept ripping at the half way point. The computer turned into a raging asshole and stopped connecting to the internet properly while also only playing the songs that it chose, all of which hindered any kind of progress in our quest to get out of the damn car.

Started dreaming of the perfect place to squeeze my head as hard as I could and scream obscenities at unsuspecting locals. Got hopeful when we figured out where the W-Mart was via the atlas, only to discover that the atlas is a lying fuck-face. Gave up and looked for a cheap motel. Gave up again and splurged. Too much money later we get a room. The TV is fucked. New room, here I am.

Glass half full shit: We have beer and tobacco, even if I do keep ripping the papers. Lost is on. A friendship that I thought was over (a fact that I was not at all pleased with) is patched up, which helps with the whole shit-I-actually-have-to-go-back-to-Sta-after-this-trip crap. Tomorrow we're going to the Grand Canyon, even though it's expensive, but I don't really care at this point because there's absolutely no fucking way that golden arches and billboards and semis will get in the way. Leda is alive and well (and shares my new found love for Jameson. Sorry Jack, we're through). I'm no longer nauseous and anxious and my hands aren't shaking.

So. Shit day finally gone right. Awesome. Happier post next time.

10 hours of sleep

gtg, buddy, good to go

This deserves a post.

We arrived in Oklahoma City this evening and had a place to sleep via the couch surfing website. Went there and were greeted with a shot, which was nice after the drive. Hung around until our host got out of his hockey game. We're staying in the artsy area, so it's pretty sweet. Lots of awesome people and things to do. So OKC nightlife ensued. Went to some bar. Wednesday night is lady's night, apparently, which saved some money.

A couple free beers (lady's night) and a couple shots (Thankyou to the host) and all was good.

After this things start getting a bit messy. Not on my part or Andrew's, just to let you know.

Mr. Host gets drunk. Not like oh-I'm-a-little-stumbly drunk. Full on wasted face. Can't stand, incoherent, plastered. Please keep in mind that this is the proverbial broken cherry of couch surfing for moi.

Best quote: Don't get me arrested. I'm drunk.

So here we are. The poor guy is very drunk. We took care of him for awhile. I can't sleep, not like that's anything new since New Orleans. It wouldn't matter how fucked he was, he's a good guy. I loved the night here and would do it again, but only with him, that's how awesome he is.

Good people and better stories is why I could do this forever. Wanting a place to call "home" is why I won't.

Tomorrow is 9 hours and then Albuquerque and Flagstaff and the Grand Canyon. Then Tahoe. San Fransisco. Oregon and multiple stops. Seattle. Then it's 2999 miles to Florida and possibly wanting to do it all over again. Suggestions on a new place to live are greatly appreciated.

Dallas.

I miss New Orleans. Andy. Matt. Whiskey from a flask. Good music. Conversations that last until 6 am. Hostel. Dirty streets. The hope of getting flashed. Staying warm. There was rabbit in my food. The Mississippi was mud and potato chip wrappers.

Not missing being in the car. Hand Grenades. Job. Rent. Wearing a thermal.

I want a ukelele, but it's not my style. And one of these days I'll start taking pictures again.