Travel Story Cont. (Part III)
May. 15th, 2005 06:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
My ch'i is all in a damp, rashy bunch and I don't even know what that is. I flopped around on the couch, pitching a fit because it's getting hot here. I said I was in the mood for a violent movie, but then read an article about a woman in a small town outside of Chico who had been attacked by a stranger in her home. Stabbed repeatedly in the face and neck, raped, stomped on with heavy work boots.
And survived.
***
I tried honesty once. It led to a major nervous breakdown--an earthquake of the soul, the rug of my life jerked violently out from under my feet. I could just come right out and tell you the truth. But it's offensive. Jesus Christ, it's offensive as hell. I might as well stab you, rape you and stomp on your face with steel-toed boots.
***
Confession:
I wanted to hold hands with him in the cornstarch. I wanted to tell him I had known him from when he was the Elephant Man and I was his nurse, from when he had been Atom and I had been Eve. I wanted to collapse back into his ribs and weep in gratitude of our miraculous recognition.
***
I pulled off the interstate in Bakersfield, filled up at a seedy gas station and used the payphone to call my friend Dee in Fresno, to let her know I was almost there.
My best friend Dee had managed to escape from Indiana a few years earlier by marrying Fafaz, an Iranian man she had met at the university. We called him Akbar, The Interstate Nomad because he could pass semis at 80 mph while steering with his knees, rolling a joint and laughing like a deranged terrorist just to scare little spurts of urine out of us. I eventually started wearing panty-liners whenever I got in a car with him.
Dee was a blond bubbling brook of bright-eyed wonder and arm-pit hair. A spontaneous free-spirit with a penchant for believing in every conspiracy theory that came her way, a kind, light-filled soul who brakes for butterflies, both real and imagined and never stops wondering if she is being followed by an undercover DEA agent....
And survived.
***
I tried honesty once. It led to a major nervous breakdown--an earthquake of the soul, the rug of my life jerked violently out from under my feet. I could just come right out and tell you the truth. But it's offensive. Jesus Christ, it's offensive as hell. I might as well stab you, rape you and stomp on your face with steel-toed boots.
***
Confession:
I wanted to hold hands with him in the cornstarch. I wanted to tell him I had known him from when he was the Elephant Man and I was his nurse, from when he had been Atom and I had been Eve. I wanted to collapse back into his ribs and weep in gratitude of our miraculous recognition.
***
I pulled off the interstate in Bakersfield, filled up at a seedy gas station and used the payphone to call my friend Dee in Fresno, to let her know I was almost there.
My best friend Dee had managed to escape from Indiana a few years earlier by marrying Fafaz, an Iranian man she had met at the university. We called him Akbar, The Interstate Nomad because he could pass semis at 80 mph while steering with his knees, rolling a joint and laughing like a deranged terrorist just to scare little spurts of urine out of us. I eventually started wearing panty-liners whenever I got in a car with him.
Dee was a blond bubbling brook of bright-eyed wonder and arm-pit hair. A spontaneous free-spirit with a penchant for believing in every conspiracy theory that came her way, a kind, light-filled soul who brakes for butterflies, both real and imagined and never stops wondering if she is being followed by an undercover DEA agent....
no subject
Date: 2005-05-16 02:53 am (UTC)For shame.
no subject
Date: 2005-05-16 05:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-16 11:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-16 08:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-17 04:57 am (UTC)...well done.
no subject
Date: 2005-05-19 02:12 pm (UTC)You go girl, great stuff, especially: "Confession:
I wanted to hold hands with him in the cornstarch. I wanted to tell him I had known him from when he was the Elephant Man and I was his nurse, from when he had been Atom and I had been Eve. I wanted to collapse back into his ribs and weep in gratitude of our miraculous recognition." And...
no subject
Date: 2005-05-19 04:56 pm (UTC)This is my favorite passage
Date: 2005-05-23 05:16 pm (UTC)This line is so well written that I can actually picture the whole scen in my head in detail.
Wow!
Re: This is my favorite passage
Date: 2005-05-25 07:46 pm (UTC)separated at birth
Date: 2005-05-24 09:41 am (UTC)Re: separated at birth
Date: 2005-05-25 03:00 pm (UTC)Okay, here's how to add more stuff to your interests list:
-Go to your main "User Info" page
-Click on "Edit info" (near top left of page)
-scroll down to the little box where some of your interests are already listed.
-put you cursor right after the very last interest you have listed
-type a comma and add away (when you save the changes, everything will automatically be put into alphabetical order)
-scroll down to very bottom of page and click on "Save Changes" and viola! Your new interests have been added! You can do this as often as you like (add and delete interests, change you bio, etc.)
Re: separated at birth
Date: 2005-05-26 03:50 am (UTC)"Railroad Earth, in its relatively short existence, has already developed a huge and growing Grateful Dead-like following. The "Hobos," who follow them from gig to gig, are hungry for the inventive, often improvisational sound augmented by Todd Sheaffer's unique voice, which has been compared to that of Bob Dylan, Roger McGuinn and Arlo Guthrie. His lyric writing invites comparisons to the writing talent of Beat poet Jack Kerouac, whose poem "October in the Railroad Earth" is the inspiration for the band's name."