Monday, 27 May 2013

Blue Ridge Mountains


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 ( 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"

In a bit.


1 comment:

  1. In the second last picture you look like a camp western villain, in a good way.