i've resurrected, back from the dead and back to work after being on the road for 7 days.
it was a whirlwind journey, from arizona through new mexico, to texas and back. i went to austin, texas for the austin city limits music festival with my friend rc and his roommate brett. it was a week of jokes, smokes, and midnite tokes, with a hazing of fire and a baptism of alcohol inbetween.
just before new mexico we stopped to check out "the thing," as it was billed from the highway. i was not told not to reveal "the thing's" secret, but i feel that i am just not at liberty to say what it was exactly... let's just say it keeps you guessing until you see it (i was convinced it was going to be some sort of desert sasquatch hybrid), and there are a lot more things in the world that would make you feel cheated after spending a dollar for the viewing... along with "the thing" they had hitler's car, which was quite amazing since according to roadside attraction revisionist history, not only did der fuhrer prefer a rolls royce, he liked them so much he rode in one all the way to arizona sometime after world war 2.
in new mexico i had to stop and get some munitions... what better way to celebrate the patriotism and freedom of your country by blowing up a small part of it? we pulled out of the place with roman candles blazing, black cat rockets rising, and the occasional m-1000 flung from the car at dangerously high speeds. things were going well and about to get more interesting.
we finally got to andi's house late in the afternoon the next day. andi is a fit, amazonian beauty and she was happy to see us at first, but by the end of our stay she was just as happy to see us go. never before had i seen a girl drink so much wild turkey first thing in the morning, just like i, a lesser human, was drinking coffee. i didn't know whether to get her counseling or fall madly in love...
enter matt, a lawyer from new york who flew down to join our fracas. matt has a dislike for people from boston, which along with alcohol-rich fuel led him to shout phrases like "that's a wicked hat on you got there" and (borrowed from the simpsons) "chowder! say it! chowder! (pronounced: chow-dah)" much to our amusement and everyone else's bewilderment. it got ugly one night when we were all on a shuttle bus after the show, and he started demanding that his fellow passengers say "chowder!" along with him... at first, everyone thought it was funny, but it quickly degraded after 20 minutes and instead of compliance all we got were hate-filled stares... one guy said "i'll say it if it'll shut you the fuck up!" it shut him up for about 5 minutes, and then he started again with a muted "chowder!...say it..." for the duration of our bus journey and the duration of the trip. matt also enjoyed yelling "woo! r.e.m!" and then yelling "sucks!" a few seconds later. there's nothing like watching a young drunk walking up to complete strangers and asking "do you know where ben harper is playing? and then going in the exact opposite direction... as a result of his shenanigans, we all decided to play a joke on him, putting a well-worn vibrator and a pair of artsy craft scissors deep into his carry-on luggage before dropping him off at the airport.
brett got so inebriated that he pissed his pants in the middle of the night, 2 nights in a row. while at the grocery store, we stole a "wet floor" sign so that brett could mark his marked territory... this prompted our battlecry of "piso mojado," a marco-polo catchphrase we all used when separated. brett had a few rough nights, being dependent on depends nonwithstanding... at one point, in a bar with an ear-splitting pa system, he asked an especially pretty girl "do you bleed from your ears, too?" he was trying to start a conversation with her about the loudness in the bar, but instead got a funny look back when she thought he was asking about her menstrual cycle.
at the festival, me and rc, being more into the music than getting incoherently fucked up, caught some great performances by the likes of yo la tengo, bright eyes, ween(!), north mississippi all-stars, jay farrar, old 97s, string cheese incident, yonder mountain string band, al green, cafe tecuba, los lobos, the dandy warhols, liz phair, and wayne "the train" hancock.
after thoroughly burning out all our bridges we started back to arizona, stopping at carlsbad caverns for a night along the way... bad habits are hard to break, and in the morning the following message was found under my windshield wiper:
hey chowderheads,
you guys are the most rude and inconsiderate people we have ever camped next to. next time, please remember that you aren't the only ones on vacation.
signed,
your sleepless campmates
while trying to figure out how many drafts this note went through with it's perfect puncuation and sentence structure, i noticed a lot of trash and leftover foodstuffs at the campsite next to ours... we may have been inconsiderate and rude, but at least we picked up after ourselves. the cavern itself was amazing... next time i feel like killing myself, i think i'll go find out just how bottomless the bottomless pit really is.
we got back to tempe around 10 pm, and all unshaven and stinking we went to four peaks, chowder in tow... i stumbled back to my apartment around 2 in the morning, awakening my cousin from his slumber with the whistling of bottle rockets.
on autopilot,
-bobby
it was a whirlwind journey, from arizona through new mexico, to texas and back. i went to austin, texas for the austin city limits music festival with my friend rc and his roommate brett. it was a week of jokes, smokes, and midnite tokes, with a hazing of fire and a baptism of alcohol inbetween.
just before new mexico we stopped to check out "the thing," as it was billed from the highway. i was not told not to reveal "the thing's" secret, but i feel that i am just not at liberty to say what it was exactly... let's just say it keeps you guessing until you see it (i was convinced it was going to be some sort of desert sasquatch hybrid), and there are a lot more things in the world that would make you feel cheated after spending a dollar for the viewing... along with "the thing" they had hitler's car, which was quite amazing since according to roadside attraction revisionist history, not only did der fuhrer prefer a rolls royce, he liked them so much he rode in one all the way to arizona sometime after world war 2.
in new mexico i had to stop and get some munitions... what better way to celebrate the patriotism and freedom of your country by blowing up a small part of it? we pulled out of the place with roman candles blazing, black cat rockets rising, and the occasional m-1000 flung from the car at dangerously high speeds. things were going well and about to get more interesting.
we finally got to andi's house late in the afternoon the next day. andi is a fit, amazonian beauty and she was happy to see us at first, but by the end of our stay she was just as happy to see us go. never before had i seen a girl drink so much wild turkey first thing in the morning, just like i, a lesser human, was drinking coffee. i didn't know whether to get her counseling or fall madly in love...
enter matt, a lawyer from new york who flew down to join our fracas. matt has a dislike for people from boston, which along with alcohol-rich fuel led him to shout phrases like "that's a wicked hat on you got there" and (borrowed from the simpsons) "chowder! say it! chowder! (pronounced: chow-dah)" much to our amusement and everyone else's bewilderment. it got ugly one night when we were all on a shuttle bus after the show, and he started demanding that his fellow passengers say "chowder!" along with him... at first, everyone thought it was funny, but it quickly degraded after 20 minutes and instead of compliance all we got were hate-filled stares... one guy said "i'll say it if it'll shut you the fuck up!" it shut him up for about 5 minutes, and then he started again with a muted "chowder!...say it..." for the duration of our bus journey and the duration of the trip. matt also enjoyed yelling "woo! r.e.m!" and then yelling "sucks!" a few seconds later. there's nothing like watching a young drunk walking up to complete strangers and asking "do you know where ben harper is playing? and then going in the exact opposite direction... as a result of his shenanigans, we all decided to play a joke on him, putting a well-worn vibrator and a pair of artsy craft scissors deep into his carry-on luggage before dropping him off at the airport.
brett got so inebriated that he pissed his pants in the middle of the night, 2 nights in a row. while at the grocery store, we stole a "wet floor" sign so that brett could mark his marked territory... this prompted our battlecry of "piso mojado," a marco-polo catchphrase we all used when separated. brett had a few rough nights, being dependent on depends nonwithstanding... at one point, in a bar with an ear-splitting pa system, he asked an especially pretty girl "do you bleed from your ears, too?" he was trying to start a conversation with her about the loudness in the bar, but instead got a funny look back when she thought he was asking about her menstrual cycle.
at the festival, me and rc, being more into the music than getting incoherently fucked up, caught some great performances by the likes of yo la tengo, bright eyes, ween(!), north mississippi all-stars, jay farrar, old 97s, string cheese incident, yonder mountain string band, al green, cafe tecuba, los lobos, the dandy warhols, liz phair, and wayne "the train" hancock.
after thoroughly burning out all our bridges we started back to arizona, stopping at carlsbad caverns for a night along the way... bad habits are hard to break, and in the morning the following message was found under my windshield wiper:
hey chowderheads,
you guys are the most rude and inconsiderate people we have ever camped next to. next time, please remember that you aren't the only ones on vacation.
signed,
your sleepless campmates
while trying to figure out how many drafts this note went through with it's perfect puncuation and sentence structure, i noticed a lot of trash and leftover foodstuffs at the campsite next to ours... we may have been inconsiderate and rude, but at least we picked up after ourselves. the cavern itself was amazing... next time i feel like killing myself, i think i'll go find out just how bottomless the bottomless pit really is.
we got back to tempe around 10 pm, and all unshaven and stinking we went to four peaks, chowder in tow... i stumbled back to my apartment around 2 in the morning, awakening my cousin from his slumber with the whistling of bottle rockets.
on autopilot,
-bobby
ms:
Sounds like a good time. You got to see Jay Farrar and Cafe Tacuba, always a good time. And if i need help with layout or anything like that I'll be more than happy to let you know. Lates brutha.