Powder Blue

28.5.13.

Yes, Comrades

Y'know what? In all me days here, I haven't touched a drink, not a drop. This gives me a whole new argument for home time. "I'm not a wino, it's the fooking country is what it is"

We made straight for this Chandler Mall fella. Wandered around Barnes & Noble - they have a whole section dedicated to 'Teen Paranormal Romance'. You not do I shit. Unbelievable. We wandered the mall and after a quick financial review ("Aye I'm loaded"), I got Dante Alighieri's Divine Comedy. It's full of sentences like "O me, Agnello, how thou changest!" sounds like a middle age romcom plot twist, dunnit? Always liked that stuff nonetheless.

Next was the other Zias. Cripes on a trike, it was bigger than Oliver Reed's bar tab. They didn't have exactly what I wanted, so they were deemed useless and we headed to Harkins Theatre to see Iron Man 3. Say what you will, as did I, it was great. He didn't get pissed once in the whole film and it played like a comedy as much as an action. Why I'm not in the reviewing business officially is a mystery to anyone. I saw the first one in a definitely legal way, but not the second, and still had fun. Off you trot!

Wendy's do square burgers so customers can see the meat protruding from the bun and know it's there. America, ladies and gentlemen. Their food is decidedly average - it looks great, but the taste is meh. Again, reviewing extraordinaire. But it's been tried, that's the point. Oh, I got batteries at B & N too, in case you were wondering. We also wandered the mall Harkins was in after the film. It was like (oh God I'm talking like them now) a mile's walk, man. And bro, they all like, "It's a tiny mall, dude!" man. I liked it.

We also visited pet stores at both malls that let you play with and cry over the puppies. Was going to get Don Bongo a present, but a Boston Terrier puppy is quite a thing to spring after a bring from America...ting.

We ended the evening in our usual way, after Zias, who had actually started stocking Tales From The Crypt Season 1 in between my two visits. Weird. I got it. That was what I was after the first time, see? Anyway, some time in Motel 6, and I kiss the world goodbye.

"We'll never get so close as when the sunward flight begins"

Song

In a bit.

SD

Digital Love

27.5.13

Yes, Comrades

I saw 8:00am for the first time in my life. Straight to La Canasta to eat proper Mejicano cuisine. Dipping my toe in the mashed beans (real good gear), so to speak, I just had a beef taco - behave! I met Javier and his mrs Alecia, but no Braveheart grilling this time.

Off we ventured into downtown Phoenix, which breath from me, it did take. I needn't go on too much, but there was a Yoshi's...how God taunts me.

We then took the road to Nancy's where I had Kool Aid again and was given a present, reminding me of one of the most embarrassing moments of my colourful life. You'll know it when you see it.

Smoke shop has bongs bigger than me, no exaggeration whatsoever. Mental. Then to Mama Sheba's, I passed on the ganja this time. Really, Yabby Bassey, this would be the life for you, here. Even doing nothing is an adventure.

But we weren't doing nothing: the mountain had the common courtesy to be open today. With Twizzlers (ew) and Puffcorn (holy fuck give me more) in hand, we patrolled the summit. The Sleeping Camel mountain looked even cooler from over a thousand feet high, as did all of Phoenix, Arizona.

Next thing I know, I come out of a changing room, looking dapper in my Spongebob Squarepants swimming shorts. After faceplanting a flume and riding the bloody terrifying 'Vagina Slide' as one particular vagabond on the Lazy River kept calling it, we were back doing our drowning business in the Thunder Bay wave pool at Sunsplash. Great place.

Next to Panda Express, Asleep In The Back soundtracking the drive. I'm sick of it, they do everything better here, for less! The night was bookended with more psychedelic bubbles exploding in our minds, before we said goodnight and I collapsed into oblivion, fully clothed.

"We'll make these dream come true"

Song

In a bit.

SD

Blue Ridge Mountains

26.5.13

Yes, Comrades

Now, don't get me wrong. I am missing home and all its great things. House M.D., The National, Cheetos...Nah I'm missing fuck all. After some reading time, getting my kicks in Motel 6, Nancy brings me a green chilli and bean burrito, a badge, some Dredg (lmgtfy.com lads) and a card. I nicotine up and we're on our way. We pop to hers, I sample Kool Aid which is pretty the-titsy and we head off again.

To Tempe. This is quite a district, full of exotic buildings renting out tires (I know?) and naked birds. I'm the only one who bats an eyelid at any of this stuff, naturally. We arrive at the music shop Zias. It's just a fuckbucket of entertaining things. They even had zombie brains flavoured with wasabi, if you so desired zombie brains flavoured with wasabi. I skipped on the bacon lollipops and just left with a Who DVD and Trouble Will Find Me. Ah, Lady Saw, I may have been a few days late, but not only did I get the album in its origin country, I got to listen to it driving down a freeway in the scorching sun; Demons sounds a bit different in that context.

Anyway, yes, we then arrive at a park by a lake after eventually getting parked and join Sheba's family, of which I meet new members and get grilled about Braveheart all over again. Two hours of strolling, debating The Beatles and eating 'spicy' food, then we head for Mama Manor.

A shower and a spliff and not a minute too soon we're en route to South Mountain. The fucker's closed, so it's time to get on foot for photos of Scorpion Gulch etc. No real scorpions though, luckily, or there'd be a trail of Dread-shaped smoke going out over the Atlantic. After some crazy shit like climbing rocks (it felt like it at the time!), we head to relatives - Sal and Christine's - house. We watch Amber Alert which we all enjoy thoroughly. A quick trip to Quick Trip nets me cream soda and Cheetos, and I head to the Motel. I sort of skimmed today, but it was the most fun I've had without a goose, a pencil and a fair amount of time.

This is not a blog. Blogs are run by people with no mates. I have at least seven, and that's a fact. Besides, one needs to be writing it on a computer for it to be a blog, innit. I'm writing this stuff down to be typed up later. It's a journal. P.S. Polar Cups are angel breath.

"Let's drive to the countryside, leave behind some green-eyed lookalikes"

Song

In a bit.

SD

Get Miles

25.5.13

Yes, Comrades

So there we were, now here we are. The trip here was...something else. After a night without sleep (deliberate), drinking Irn Bru and whisky and generally messing with meself, we arrive at Glasgow Airport at 7:20am. There's a fault at the check-in desk (Christ, pull the other one!) so I'm left standing, going into criminal homicide mode, staring at this almost-ginger airport fella whose face is beginning to look like a pile of dead children to me - disgusting, horrifying, and God, I wanted to punch it. Anyway, I get through, get a coffee, my last smoke for 18 hours, and we say our byes

200 Regal for £40 later, I'm on the plane. Seat monitors? Nope. Free beer? Nah-uh. Lots of legroom? Not even close. Misleading...argh! Anyway, I'm next to a cycling fiend and his wife, who are going to the same place as me and are very nice. I spend two hours trying to drop over, then I do, for two hours. iPod hasn't been touched yet. I read the book I was kindly given as a present, about chimps and paradoxes. The meal is some form of chicken with some version of pasta covered in a strange incarnation of sauce. An hour more of reading about monkeys with dilemmas and we land in Philadelphia.

Immigration...I was suspected, of what I'm not sure. I'm taken to a big white room. No guy with KY jelly and a rubber glove (unfortunately), just some lad raking through me stuff, insisting I don't go to Tombstone. Huh. In the departure lounge is a Yank I saw at Glasgow, old and in a red cardigan. Mr Rogers from Caddyshack is real! "The chicken on the flight wasn't that good, tasted like it was from Scotland." Cheeky bastard. I jokingly challenge him and we all fall around laughing. Or something. Back on the plane.

This time I'm sat next to an American woman coming home from Paris. She grins at me whenever she hears a baby crying, and giggles when the plane's wheels are deployed, I think because it sounded very, very slightly like robotic flatulence. The French had obviously rubbed off on her. Five hours later after more reading about orangutans and decisions (I'm joking by the way, it's actually a very good book) and I'm in Phoenix, Arizona. The heat on the jet way almost kills me, and I step into Sky Harbor.

The flight is an hour late, by the way. I immediately hear my name being read by a computer over the tannoy, and run to baggage claim. The info desk has no info, and a human voice calls my name. Irie Nancy and her cousin Nico appear, who were making their last lap down baggage claim before leaving the airport, whew! I try hard to communicate, but the fatigue's got me beaten. I pick up my suitcase, we make our way to the car park, I have that smoke, at last, and we leave.

Where to begin...we're driving down a freeway, skies clearer than OJ's conscience (he's innocent!), the sun high in the sky, crimson mountains on the horizon, a vast landscape of desert and colourful gridline pattern streets and shops, sunglasses on, listening to Champagne Supernova. Euphoria would be an insulting definition of those minutes. I'd had a CD made up specially for me, so some Happy Jack and Buttons And Zips later, Nico was dropped at his house.

Onto Motel 6. I won't ramble here - I paid for my room and we left for Mama Sheba's. I meet the entire family, seem to make a good impression, and am promptly escorted out back, before saying bye to the brother, Raul. We three and Debbie, the 'mom', joins us in having a joint. This wasn't your plastic and soap powder affair, this stuff was lethal, though I didn't know it yet. A half hour passes, the dad - Eddie - joined us, and the twilight (twilit?) garden began warping and pulsating. I try to pretend I'm ok, but when I ask if my feet are still attached, the game's up. I'm given a can of Pepsi, which at that moment tasted like every fruit in the forest, crushed and mixed by an angel's chest. Heavenly. We leave. Oh, there was a deaf sister - Gelly - who made noises to get attention. This being something I'm not used to when sober, it was hard not proper freaking out at this.

We arrive back at the motel, and by some miracle I get the cases in. We say goodnight and I look in the mirror. My eyes are rosy - I've never looked more like Towelie in my life. Everything I do is now a wonderful adventure, from washing my hands, to changing the time on my phone, right down to the bloody toilet. This is all at 9:30pm, by the way. I get the light off, and collapse into bed, the world still a kaleidoscope of what the fuck. I begin to drift off, as the words I last heard resonate in what's left of my mind: "Welcome to Phoenix".

"Gonna leave everything I know, gonna head out towards the sea"

Song

In a bit.

SD

Fight The Power

Yes, Comrades

So after...nearly a year, the blog's back up. In that time I've lost an entire follower. Oh well, she wore tuxedoes and thought killing all non-whites so we can't be racist made her non-racist. Hardly Paul McCartney leaving The Beatles, now is it?

Yes. I haven't wrote on this for a year, so it'll take a while for me to hit me 'stride', if that's what you'd call the utter drivel you can rot your mind with below. Patience is a virtue, said some wise fella with a beard and too much free time. Probably took one of those philosophy classes at uni, sat on a rock looking thoughtful for a year and got a degree. Arse.

Anyway, if you're new to this, this blog uses a certain reggae lexicon. I use no real names mainly for protection (except in Don Bongo's case, that name's just plain funny) so get used to the reggae aliases (e.g. I'm Sergeant Dread, because that's what the reggae name generator said I should be and I shouted 'Shut up and take my money!' at the computer screen when I got that one).

If you're not new, I'm tweaking the format of the blog ever so slightly. Each one will be bookended with lyrics from the song that titles the entry, and a link to the song. Fucking listen to it! Each song is relevant to the entry in some very clever and convoluted way, so listening to the song is almost compulsory. For example, this entry is called Fight The Power, because that's what I'm doing by reviving the blog, fighting the power!

Oh, I swear a lot too, just my style. I should probably be more imaginative, more inventive with my language, but fuck it.

Feel free to leave a comment and it will be swiftly ignored. I'm joking, if you'd like to comment telling me what a horrible person I am (as you surely will as the trip goes on), feel free!

Hope you enjoy my little American tale!

"Let's get this party started right!"

>>>Song<<<   Click here from now on!!!

In a bit.

SD