some more…

I left Oregon with a trunk load of my own personal precious junk.  Nothing I actually need to live, just clothes I wear and a faux fur coat or two. Oh, and a banjo.  I made it to San Fransisco.  Sped over to the Golden Gate bridge just as the sun was setting for a quick tourist photo.  Then back into the city to see Kitty Kat Mannis and tap into some Black Rock City home-vibrations.  The next day I continued south to the golden glory land of smog, Los Angeles.  It was so damn good to see Daggett again.  Same as he ever was, which in my mind is nerdy as hell and always talking, but what is truly amazing is he’s found himself a group of people that think he’s seriously cool.  That dig what he’s passionate about enough to let him dork out and talk at them continuously.  I’m so proud of him.  They’ve got 5 people living in a two bedroom house and they are all totally okay with it. Lathe uses the kitchen drawers as his dresser.  It’s hippy commune style, with a new-age L.A. rock and roll twist.  Coachella posters litter the walls, skinny jeans and leather jackets two sizes too small don the boys in question.  All topped with long unwashed hair and a song stuck in their heads that’ll be on stage in a matter of days.  After L.A. I rode down the classic Rte. 66, through the desert, quoting Fear and Loathing to myself the whole way. And ended up in Vegas.  My suite at Treasure Island Hotel got bumped up to VIP.  I’m not really sure I liked Vegas.  I love flashy lights more than most people, but I get that fix on labor day weekend in the beautiful city of Black Rock.  Vegas has a dark note to it.  That everyone was blindly giving away their money to the man.  Sort of alluded to Brave New World and that people were overly happy and content being part of the system and walking past it, through casino after casino of the same mindlessness got depressing.  And then you finally get outside and are berated by hustlers handing you pocketfuls of ads for prostitutes. It’s just a sad little waste of time and money stuck out in the middle of the desert.  Some I’ve heard, believe that the mormons built Vegas originally to keep all the heathens in one place, away from they’re motherland Salt Lake Friggin City.  Kind of doubt that one though. So I suffered through Vegas for a night.
The next day I went to the Grand Canyon and had a turkey sandwich picnic in the snow overlooking the sun setting on the red clay chasm that is indeed grand.  Grand is an understatement.  I had no idea how deep it actually went. It is layer after layer after layer of earth, eaten away by this tiny little creek they called the Colorado River.  I can’t imagine going down into it.  By foot or by donkey or by anything.  That has got to be a trip.  After sunset I headed down to Flagstaff.  Posted up for the night.  Took myself out to a decadent sushi dinner.  Slept in the 28 degree weather with the motel heater on full blast and a coat draped over the bed.  When I awoke I was off to Santa Fe, with a miniature frozen chicken in my tiny cooler keeping my drinks cold, because a block of ice wouldn’t fit.

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