I gave both her and her new man a shirt, and then called her for the trip this weekend and sold her a shirt for all her kids. I’m spreading the good love of color all over the place. I’ve outfitted my seventy odd year old parents in the glory, and the rest of the populace is coming along whether they know it or not.
But back to the Ventura wedding.
Everyone there in Ventura seems to have a script for all sorts of bizarre cosmic frop as some have said. It was quite tasty I must say, but they all would move, en masse, out the door, or into a room, or talk about it often in front of me with no knowledge who I was. Quite possibly they were told before I got there, that’s seems feasible, so, I blew them all away with the Shotgun effect, and baby if you’ve been there, you’ve been everywhere. I slammed them all back with one lungful and choked down the leavings as well. The universal response, and one asked when I arrived this next time, if I had “That Pipe”. And the question was asked by one who, yes dear I hate to say, is younger then the said implement of destruction. By two years.
So about this wedding.
We all went over to a place at the harbor and had Mexican food. But before the food, I had rum and cokes, and then had to find other food to be able to bring my head somewhat back to the planetoid I reside on. Then we all ate, and I was whisked away from the party to the confines of a vehicle and the hazy smoke of Ganga. Wouldn’t you know, that last G word isn’t in the dictionary for Microsoft. The things one teaches their puter. I had fun and hung out, but began to miss terribly my family. So I went back to the road and followed her home.
That was the complain over the trip to the Ghetto hot spring as well. I’m always leaving.
Which sucks, because I don’t think I can actually help it. I’ve always been in love with the road, and what she shares. The trip to Vermont and really every other trip, be it long or short in my life, is a tribute to my lifestyle. When I had gotten my license and had positioned myself with an ability to drive at a moments notice, I would wake up at night. Three or later in the morning, and I was awake. I would snap open my eyes, and then I’d creep out of the house and drive around the town I lived in, grew up in for most of my life. I would drive around, obeying the speed limits, and let my eyes wander the town at will. It was usually foggy or at least heavily misted, and the glowing lights would flare on my windshield. Halos surrounded everything and the world was being washed, scrubbed sort of by the night, the dew, the bugs, the night creatures. All of it was witnessed by me, chronicled in my head for the reason that still, to this day, eludes me. I get to itching and I need an escape. Not necessarily from anything, but more into something. We watched that new Sean Penn movie “Into the Wild” tonight and I understood his plight and feelings, just not his militant need for such severe separation. It was a good movie, a great movie, and it made me want to go to Alaska, which honestly is a feeling that never leaves me. That’s something that needs to have its own day and dear reader, it shall. But I’ve always experienced a wanderlust that shows me things every time I give in to it. Mostly good things. I really only try to remember the good ones.
