Friday, February 14, 2003
i have alot of ideas in my head right now... and i don't quite know what to say. Recently racism has reared it's ugly head in my life again. i made a conscience decesion to not tolorate in my life. and it seems that a of late i have been tolorateing it. apparently i have been told this, that i am allowing people around me to use slurs in my presence. i remember there was a day that i would make a comment if i heard something i didn't like, but i while working as a mechanic, i grew weary of trying to fight it, and i guess i grew callosed also. i figured tht these where old men who's minds were so closed that i could nothing to change them. but i still cringe when i hear slurs, and i even cringe when i think the words i do.
I think alot of it has to do with the enviroment that i have put myself into. it seems that the type of music i like and the type of cars i like have attracted a large number of former skinheads. and don't even get me started on non-racist skins, if you dress like a NAZI you will be labeled as a NAZI. I have evenheard as of late some folks trying to justify themselves by saying they are sepratists, not racist. and i'm not buying it. aarrrrrggggggg i can't evven think straight right now.
I think alot of it has to do with the enviroment that i have put myself into. it seems that the type of music i like and the type of cars i like have attracted a large number of former skinheads. and don't even get me started on non-racist skins, if you dress like a NAZI you will be labeled as a NAZI. I have evenheard as of late some folks trying to justify themselves by saying they are sepratists, not racist. and i'm not buying it. aarrrrrggggggg i can't evven think straight right now.
Wednesday, February 12, 2003
5800 hundred miles to go, I want to be sedated……...
August 16th, 9:14am Saturday morning, the alarm blaring in my ear telling me it was time to get going. We woke up late and had a lot to do today. But, coffee first. Then find my smokes. Move slowly to the kitchen, and make coffee. Ah, sweet, sweet coffee, the stuff that fills your lungs with aroma, your mouth with flavor, and you body with warmth. We had to be in town by noon for lunch. High noon. The exact opposite of the midnight witching hour, the time of the day that all is supposed to be clear, though highlighted by the deep shadows cut by the sun straight above. And things were very clear today.
Even though The Princess had begun packing I had not even started. I didn’t have as much to pack as she had. She was moving across the country to begin her new life, I merely the vehicle that would get her there. I was to be on the road for a week, return to gather my belongings and begin my new journey to join her. I didn’t know how long she would be out there, but she knew enough to realize that what she didn’t take would be gone forever. I’m sure if we had finished packing the night before we wouldn’t feel so rushed, but we both wanted one more night out on the town before departing. One more “night to remember”. And that we did, we partied like rock stars. This spontaneous change would set the tone for the entire trip, as well as be the cause for our late departure.
After I had my coffee and morning smoke I began to pack my bag. A few t-shirts, under shirts, some socks and a pair of jeans. I also packed my cowboy boots. I find it interesting that in normal day to day I don’t often wear them, but for some reason, as soon as I cross the state line they go on my feet and stay there till I get home. I would also be flying home and well they are just plain easy. No steel toes to worry airport security, and they are easy to get on and off to be checked for prohibited items. So I had all I needed to last me a week on the road.
The Road. This journey was to be a short one for me. She and I would simply drive her truck to California, where I would then get on a plane out of LA. Short and sweet journey. Planned destination. At least that was the plan till we had lunch with her father. Pops pulled me aside and told me of the dreams and aspirations he had for his daughter, and living in California was not one of them. He suggested that we make a vacation out of it, see some of the country and take time on the road to fully realize the opportunities a that were available to us. At this time I had no job to return to and no real reason for staying in Fort Worth. I knew that following love was a dangerous decision, but I also knew that if I let it go, I would always wonder what would have become of us. So I took her fathers money and advice. I put the money in my pocket and finished loading the truck.
After loading the truck our decision to head east or west was made by the toss of a coin. Best two out a three sent us west. If all went as planned we would make our way to our originally intended destination in LA, and make the decision to stay or go. My small trip had been instantly changed into a grand road trip. The New American Dream. Living life on the open road. Following the wind and going up stream.
The new plan was simple. West Texas to say hello to her family, North to Denver to meet new friends, onward to Montana, to see an old friend of mine, west to Seattle to see old friends and make new ones and then down the coast to LA where our destiny awaited.
After several stops for last minute items, we began our journey at 8:45pm. Nearly 12 full hours after beginning preparations, and many, many hours later than intended. So much had changed this first day; only our imaginations could conjure what lay before us on that dark and desolate road. West into the sunset.
We were trying to make it to Odessa, TX the first night so she could visit family not seen in a while, but we did not make it. Due in part to our late departure and the late night partying, by 11 pm we were both exhausted and ready to rest for the night. We made it from Fort Worth all the way to the big town of Sweetwater. We managed to find a suitable seedy motel for the first night of our adventure, the Longhorn Motor lodge. In the dark, drab West Texas night we had found an oasis of lush green light. The entire motel was rimmed in green florescent lighting. Absolutely a site to behold. As we pulled into the drive all kinds of thoughts flashed thru my head. I saw bits of old movies, and the covers of long forgotten Pulp Fiction novels. I didn’t know if the man behind the counter would give me grief or not. I was afraid he might, given that the age difference between the Princess and I. Would he think that this was some late night rendezvous? That we had met in some backwater bar on the highway, and this was the only place we could go? Was I having an affair? Was she? I also had ideas about the man behind the counter, what would he look like? Would he be a skinny old man, who reeked of booze and cigarettes? Or would he be fat man in his forties, who had greasy hands and hair with sweat stain under his arms? I imagined it would be the later. I don’t know for sure, but at the time I never gave it any thought that it might be a woman. But true to our fantasies it was a man who was old, fat, and greasy. I don’t think he much cared why we were there. I think all he wanted was his money, his form to be filled out correctly, and to go back to his beer, or bed or both. Thru all of this I became more and more excited. The Princess and I had agreed that we would forgo the modern sleek corporate hotels in favor of small roadside motels. The ones that weary travelers might have sought out before the day of the super highways. Before modern conveniences had jaded people. A time before the Internet, a time when super highway meant four lanes and roadside attractions. The glory days of the automobile. And this is what we had found the first night and without even trying. I could barley wait to get to our room and discover what we had ourselves gotten into. I was not to be disappointed.
The room was small and well worn, the freshly made bed, was drooping from untold years of sleep, sex and what not. The carpet was trampled, mashed and worn. The curtains thick, and the lights bright. But the bathroom, the bathroom was absolutely beautiful. It was rose and pink tiles from floor to ceiling. It looked as though it was built in 1940, and it the door left closed till I opened it. Not one bit of wear was found. Then i found the note laying on the desk. "Please do not use hotel towels to clean mud, grease, oil, heavey makeup or blood. There are "rags" under the sink in the bathroom for such activites. If you need more than provided please contact the office." BLOOD!! holy shit, what have i gotten ourselves into?
While I fumbled with luggage, the TV and my cameras, the young woman had begun preparing herself for the upcoming adventures. I looked thru the tiny door opening from the bed, and there she stood. She was wearing a mans white undershirt, her breasts pushing at the seams. She wore tiny, well-worn cutoff jean shorts that accentuated her lovely hips and ass. If you looked closely you could see her ass thru the fringe. She was beautiful. Her black raven hair, pulled back tight out of her face, was in sharp contrast to the pink-rose tiles. She was slightly bent over, one leg in the sink, slowly and carefully shaving her legs. I grabbed my camera to capture this moment forever and to let a select few share a few minutes of my life with the princess. After taken a few pictures I lay in bed, and just watched. Soon she was done with her royal primping and came to join me on the bed. She soon peeled out of her tight clothes, crawled under the covers with me and we both drifted off to sleep. She fell asleep a few moments before me and gave me time to ponder what had become and what was to be.
This was the end of the first day of so many more to come. We had finally broken the bonds of home. Even though we had not made it far distance wise, we had succeeded in covering an enormous distance emotionally. For the very first time since we had met, there was no one else. Tonight we lived and died with, by and for each other.
August 16th, 9:14am Saturday morning, the alarm blaring in my ear telling me it was time to get going. We woke up late and had a lot to do today. But, coffee first. Then find my smokes. Move slowly to the kitchen, and make coffee. Ah, sweet, sweet coffee, the stuff that fills your lungs with aroma, your mouth with flavor, and you body with warmth. We had to be in town by noon for lunch. High noon. The exact opposite of the midnight witching hour, the time of the day that all is supposed to be clear, though highlighted by the deep shadows cut by the sun straight above. And things were very clear today.
Even though The Princess had begun packing I had not even started. I didn’t have as much to pack as she had. She was moving across the country to begin her new life, I merely the vehicle that would get her there. I was to be on the road for a week, return to gather my belongings and begin my new journey to join her. I didn’t know how long she would be out there, but she knew enough to realize that what she didn’t take would be gone forever. I’m sure if we had finished packing the night before we wouldn’t feel so rushed, but we both wanted one more night out on the town before departing. One more “night to remember”. And that we did, we partied like rock stars. This spontaneous change would set the tone for the entire trip, as well as be the cause for our late departure.
After I had my coffee and morning smoke I began to pack my bag. A few t-shirts, under shirts, some socks and a pair of jeans. I also packed my cowboy boots. I find it interesting that in normal day to day I don’t often wear them, but for some reason, as soon as I cross the state line they go on my feet and stay there till I get home. I would also be flying home and well they are just plain easy. No steel toes to worry airport security, and they are easy to get on and off to be checked for prohibited items. So I had all I needed to last me a week on the road.
The Road. This journey was to be a short one for me. She and I would simply drive her truck to California, where I would then get on a plane out of LA. Short and sweet journey. Planned destination. At least that was the plan till we had lunch with her father. Pops pulled me aside and told me of the dreams and aspirations he had for his daughter, and living in California was not one of them. He suggested that we make a vacation out of it, see some of the country and take time on the road to fully realize the opportunities a that were available to us. At this time I had no job to return to and no real reason for staying in Fort Worth. I knew that following love was a dangerous decision, but I also knew that if I let it go, I would always wonder what would have become of us. So I took her fathers money and advice. I put the money in my pocket and finished loading the truck.
After loading the truck our decision to head east or west was made by the toss of a coin. Best two out a three sent us west. If all went as planned we would make our way to our originally intended destination in LA, and make the decision to stay or go. My small trip had been instantly changed into a grand road trip. The New American Dream. Living life on the open road. Following the wind and going up stream.
The new plan was simple. West Texas to say hello to her family, North to Denver to meet new friends, onward to Montana, to see an old friend of mine, west to Seattle to see old friends and make new ones and then down the coast to LA where our destiny awaited.
After several stops for last minute items, we began our journey at 8:45pm. Nearly 12 full hours after beginning preparations, and many, many hours later than intended. So much had changed this first day; only our imaginations could conjure what lay before us on that dark and desolate road. West into the sunset.
We were trying to make it to Odessa, TX the first night so she could visit family not seen in a while, but we did not make it. Due in part to our late departure and the late night partying, by 11 pm we were both exhausted and ready to rest for the night. We made it from Fort Worth all the way to the big town of Sweetwater. We managed to find a suitable seedy motel for the first night of our adventure, the Longhorn Motor lodge. In the dark, drab West Texas night we had found an oasis of lush green light. The entire motel was rimmed in green florescent lighting. Absolutely a site to behold. As we pulled into the drive all kinds of thoughts flashed thru my head. I saw bits of old movies, and the covers of long forgotten Pulp Fiction novels. I didn’t know if the man behind the counter would give me grief or not. I was afraid he might, given that the age difference between the Princess and I. Would he think that this was some late night rendezvous? That we had met in some backwater bar on the highway, and this was the only place we could go? Was I having an affair? Was she? I also had ideas about the man behind the counter, what would he look like? Would he be a skinny old man, who reeked of booze and cigarettes? Or would he be fat man in his forties, who had greasy hands and hair with sweat stain under his arms? I imagined it would be the later. I don’t know for sure, but at the time I never gave it any thought that it might be a woman. But true to our fantasies it was a man who was old, fat, and greasy. I don’t think he much cared why we were there. I think all he wanted was his money, his form to be filled out correctly, and to go back to his beer, or bed or both. Thru all of this I became more and more excited. The Princess and I had agreed that we would forgo the modern sleek corporate hotels in favor of small roadside motels. The ones that weary travelers might have sought out before the day of the super highways. Before modern conveniences had jaded people. A time before the Internet, a time when super highway meant four lanes and roadside attractions. The glory days of the automobile. And this is what we had found the first night and without even trying. I could barley wait to get to our room and discover what we had ourselves gotten into. I was not to be disappointed.
The room was small and well worn, the freshly made bed, was drooping from untold years of sleep, sex and what not. The carpet was trampled, mashed and worn. The curtains thick, and the lights bright. But the bathroom, the bathroom was absolutely beautiful. It was rose and pink tiles from floor to ceiling. It looked as though it was built in 1940, and it the door left closed till I opened it. Not one bit of wear was found. Then i found the note laying on the desk. "Please do not use hotel towels to clean mud, grease, oil, heavey makeup or blood. There are "rags" under the sink in the bathroom for such activites. If you need more than provided please contact the office." BLOOD!! holy shit, what have i gotten ourselves into?
While I fumbled with luggage, the TV and my cameras, the young woman had begun preparing herself for the upcoming adventures. I looked thru the tiny door opening from the bed, and there she stood. She was wearing a mans white undershirt, her breasts pushing at the seams. She wore tiny, well-worn cutoff jean shorts that accentuated her lovely hips and ass. If you looked closely you could see her ass thru the fringe. She was beautiful. Her black raven hair, pulled back tight out of her face, was in sharp contrast to the pink-rose tiles. She was slightly bent over, one leg in the sink, slowly and carefully shaving her legs. I grabbed my camera to capture this moment forever and to let a select few share a few minutes of my life with the princess. After taken a few pictures I lay in bed, and just watched. Soon she was done with her royal primping and came to join me on the bed. She soon peeled out of her tight clothes, crawled under the covers with me and we both drifted off to sleep. She fell asleep a few moments before me and gave me time to ponder what had become and what was to be.
This was the end of the first day of so many more to come. We had finally broken the bonds of home. Even though we had not made it far distance wise, we had succeeded in covering an enormous distance emotionally. For the very first time since we had met, there was no one else. Tonight we lived and died with, by and for each other.