Here's my First Mates log from
The Great Crossing.
New Jersey to Ft. Lauderdale, and back to California.
In record time.
Eyes open, for lack of any other options.
So... Give it a few to get rolling,
and if you make it through this one,
Who knows, maybe I'll unleash
Troy Seven on you. Space travel and stuff....
But for now, America in a nutshell.
1
The
truth is like an ice berg.
Dude's
... How to put this... Ummm, if palm reading was legit, a reader
would look at my life line and see this last (and pebbly the next)
five days, and say, "oh!! what's this here?
2
rumble,
rumble,) Is it just me or did the whole entire universe just shift? I
wanted to talk after stage one, cause it was PURE EXUBERANCE. And
don,t worry, I'll get to that later. Right now I have reached stage
two. ( not so much a talkative stage.) So hang tight, I'll get back
to you
3
Ok
folks, so here's the deal. In the last five days I have gotten
considerable doses of both NYC and Fort Lauderdale. Mainline, into
that big vain under the knee cap. This is gonna make it somewhat
harder to keep me home on the ranch. NYC, right, did you folks know
that was there? Did you ever sink your teeth into it's neck, drink
deep and feel the life returning, feel young again, feel potential
and wonder? Know damn well that your eyes are glowing again with that
stupid giddy. Sure, I've always been a child, but it's funny again.
Dudes! Word up! When it totally stops being funny, put a bullet into
me. I'm serious, send me back to "go". There was a a time
when I was scared of the thought of starting over. I mean, good god,
I'm tired. Start over from scratch?
How
long, oh lord, how long?.. Bit I digress. Look, if you had tossed me
into New York City when I was 22, I would have thought it was so big.
But now I'm 47, and I can see how small it is, I could hold it in the
palm of my hand. I can see how fragile it is. So diaphanous. So
ephemeral. What a world. It could chew me up and leave me for dead.
And I'm afraid to break it. I want to protect it. Irony, subtlety,
caution. But aint nothing gonna happen till you throw me into the
deep end. And our depths mingle. Yours and mine. Bob's sitting on the
couch, says "I should be doin something". Irony. Well, I
think I'll take the next shift. Wind me up. Dip me in chocolate. I'll
do my best to see nothing get's broken. So here's the plan, you got
the ball, I'll go long. Ready, break.
We'll
talk later.
Peace.
4
Oh,
well there's lightning and thunder,
flashed
across the roads we drive upon.
For
real, the rain in Florida.
I
just stand in the doorway and watch it,
wishin'
it could wash away that secret hurt that so few people see.
But
it doesn't wash it away, just floats it up to the surface. Right up
to the rim, almost spills over, as you watch, silently praying for
the damn to break.
That's
what rain does to me. That's what it does...
Kazy
girl, make me a daiquiri will you hon. Bless your soul.
Rain
like satin sheets. Thunder moaning like that sandy blond on the
beach, yes, the one you cant forget. Don't want to forget, but wish
you could. Rain is supposed to wash that all away, but standing in
the door, watching things move down the boulevard more like boats
than cars, I cant shake the sandy blond, or the tall thin Indian girl
from years ago, or the girl in the chocolate shop in Times Square,
and that was only yesterday. And there is still tomorrow. What's up
with that? Time will tell.
God
made the rain and we make the daiquiris. I'll have to consider myself
lucky, I'd be a fool not to, right? Let me get an amen!
Oh
my, when it rains it pours, and some times, it just keeps pouring.
One
of these days, I'm gonna get washed out to sea right along with it.
I'll
catch you on the flip side.
Later.
5
Can
you see the real me?
Pete
et al.
So
ummm. Just had a talk with Bob. Am I stuck being magically board?
My
melancholy is obvious, so I turn that into art. Am I ultimately
pessimistic?
No,
really, I'm not. I see hope all around me. My point in addressing
"our" shortcomings is intended to push us forward. Why
don't I just come out and say we are, all of us, full of potential
and promise? Damn good question. Yes I believe, more and more, that
we can drag ourselves from the edge of this abyss. And you know
what?.. Hold on, Bob asked me if this is scary, "No" I say,
"This is fun". But it's hard. For some reason, if I state
the obvious, it will come off as trite, or shallow. Even if it's the
truth. I could tell you I have been around the block several times,
and I still don't know the answers. But the honest to god truth is
that I do know the answers. Not all of them, but enough to save me
from total self distraction. Enough to know this is one of our great
challenges. The only thing worse than to many options, is no
options.
(Bob again) (Nice). And too many options is exactly where you find me
at this moment. But I know where I want to go. How to get there is
the real trick. And if I say it, it has no value unless we get there
together.
Are
we here to have fun? Derhay, Yes! Can we grab something meaningful on
the way? I really do think so. The external stimuli can push me this
way and that. But the end result remains the same. "Know"
is a strong word. We all "know" what's going on, but there
is so damn much flying at us. We are so easily distracted. Or perhaps
redirected, or maybe commandeered is the word I'm looking for.
(yes,
that last bit was indeed "all over the map".) That was me
writing while still engaged in conversation, so I'll pick this up
from the top again later. And I'll credit all the contributors.
Apparently it's 4 am east cost. We just climbed out of the pool,
finally conceding that should lightning continue to strike, we might
be better off indoors. So I'm gonna fall back on one of my standards,
toss you some Billy Joel and hit the sack.
Fun
aint easy if it ant free.
Too
many people got a hold on me,
but
I know something that they don't know,
I
know a woman in New Mexico
Oh,
worse comes to worst
I'll
get along
I
don't know how but sometimes
I
can be strong.
Stick
with me folks, We have a lot of miles to go, but I'm confident that I
can tie this all together before we get home.
Damn,
I gotta get some sleep.
Cheers.
6
I
just heard Maria Maldaur sing "Tonight" from West side
Story. Dear god, take me now. I'm in love. I want to have her baby.
If that was the last thing I ever heard, I would have no complaints.
Bob took his Ipod away from me cause I was licking it. That was
beautiful. Maria, if your out there, CALL ME!
7
Well,
the rain has calmed. The good people of Florida have made their way
home on this fine, shinny Friday evening. Leaving the roads
reasonably clear for those of us who wish to put them to some serious
use. We made the run from Jersey to Ft. Lauderdale in about 22 hours.
So If you plan to be out and about in the next few days, watch that
rear view mirror, keep that fast lane available cause we're commin'
through...
Keep
your powder dry and keep your ears on. We'll be home soon.
8
Ok,
this is fun. Talkin at you from 70 miles an hour. Just crossed into
Central time. Got some pics of a huge orange ball rising up through
the trees at approximately "way early" this morning. Did
you folks know they have a totally different sun on the east coast?
It rises up out of the ocean instead of setting into it. What a
world. Next thing you know we'll be launching humans into space and
returning them safely to earth. Oh, wait we "were" doing
that, found it more amusing to blow up brown people I guess. So
sidelined the great endeavors and left that to private enterprise.
Yes I'm gonna start rambling. What else, my own take on a chain
called WAFFLE HOUSE, skip it. when your eggs come with a straw,
that's a clue. We got roads that go perfectly straight for miles and
miles with swamp on either side. State Troopers with buzz cuts just
waiting to utter the words, "You boys aint from around here are
you." Mind bogglinglingly, we are STILL in Florida. It's a big
state. Nice roads though. Both of our names have apparently been
changed by government fiat to "Hon". And sleep deprivation
is over rated. The Ipod is a gift from the gods. We would have needed
an extra trailer for all the CDs, and they would all end up in the
wrong box. I'm gonna close my eyes and listen to Tails from the
Topographic Ocean. This song we once knew so well. Also the hood
mounted cannon is very useful.
9
To
Suzi
"Hey
chile, we passion up the bayou. Are we getting down? We could swing
by and make the veiller. What say Boo? We canja the bracque!"
10
Chasing
the sun. Oh I could pull out a pile of songs that drink from that
trope, tomorrow may rain so, or, racing around to come up behind you
again. It's a great metaphor, but did you ever try it? I haven't
researched it yet but how fast would you have to drive to keep up
with the sun? Anybody have that figure?
11
Huston
is the proverbial steel trap. No one get's in, and no one, NO ONE,
get's out. When your driving on the freeways in Huston, if you can
stick your head out the car window, try this, it's wild, you can
clearly make out a giant dude in a white lab coat with a clip board
watching your movements with a slight look of disappointment. You
think that's thunder in the distance but if you listen closely you
can hear things like, " Oh, that's to bad, I thought this pair
had such promise. But they just keep going around and around..."
Whew,
deep breath, I'll get a shower and a valium and we'll try to break
free.
12
So
our first few attempts to escape from Huston where either humorous or
futile, depending on your perspective. Short story is this. Desperate
and confused we found ourselves with little choice but to trade Bobs
truck for a baseball team. We then sold the ball club to a Chinese
conglomerate for a million and a half dollars. After that we spent
the whole mil and a half on a bottle of whisky and an oil well. (BTW
the oil well was 87 dollars). Several hours later we found the well
to be a total bust and the whisky gone. Things where getting ugly and
we had little choice but to trade our IPods for the services of a
damn good lawyer and a money market manager. In short order that pair
converted our loss into a new house for each of them with enough left
over for us to by back the truck and the IPods. Thus having fulfilled
the Huston prerequisite. We where free to go. We are currently
driving at top speed and not looking back. There does seems to be an
oversized WhiteFrightliner in hot pursuit, but I'm confident we are
pulling away. As harrowing as that all was, my attention has shifted
to what lies ahead. In the West Texas town of El Paso. Oh yes, and a
Mexican girl.
13
The
great chess board of Ragnerock.
We
just ran the gas tank to as close to empty as one might care to do at
midnight under the oil black Texas sky.
Last
night we watched the sun setting over Lake Charles.
Now
Fort stockton glows in the distance. So we're covering some ground.
I've always been accustomed to life on the road, but I'm really
starting to get into it. There is Roma in my blood. I'm a Gypsy at
heart. We are a noble people. And with but a few exceptions, so are
all the people I have met face to face. On paper, the world is said
to be full of total dicks. I'm not sure where they are hiding, cause
I'm two flights and 3000 miles of driving into this experiment and
folks out here are pretty damn nice. And believe me, I've been
sampling humans of every different color, size and persuasion. I'm
pleased to say, these folks seem pretty ok. I can say that, right?
And still miss you. Cause that's about where I'm at.
Some
chains bind us to despair.
I'm
thinking, if we get a bunch of us on one end, and a bunch of us us on
the other end, right, and we pull like hell, we might actually break
the damn thing, and we can walk out of here and get back to what ever
it is we were supposed to be doing. Cause I know more than ever that
this will be over way to soon.
Every
one is good.
Hmmm.
I gotta write that down.
14
Alea
iacta est.
Ya
know what? El Paso is a very, very, very large place. And when your
coming in west bound on the 10 at night you can see the whole thing.
I'm thinking, that's a LOT of light bulbs.
Half
a mile to Tucson by the morning light.
One
man down and another to go.
Oh,
here's an appropriate song,
The
winds of Santa Ana are blowin' again.
Animal
Logic. Hard to argue with.
They
got a lot of rocks around here. Joshua Trees, Sage brush, and the
white lines on the freeway. whatever, wake me up when we get there.
15
The
Gauntlet.
Crazy
days call for a true appreciation of the very real dangers involved.
El
Paso last night, Phoenix by lunch, we are somewhere in California
tonight. A hotel and a couple of beds. God is merciful.
A
wicked Santa Ana kicked up into Phoenix and upturned Semi's and
crushed cars like badly played accordions. Blew all manor of flotsam
across our path and sent the HWY Patrol into high alert. We managed
to slip through like a laser guided kitten in mittens. The Lord may
be our shepherd, but Grumman, Apple, Verizon and Rand McNally are our
sherpas.
I'll
tell you a weird, weird side affect of this type of travel. Both Bob
and I have experienced it. When you turn over the wheel to your
partner to take a nap at shotgun, or even when you sit typing on a
strange hotel bed, and you drift into that long overdue sleep, you
catch yourself just before beta and snap to, with a very
uncomfortable start. The feeling that you should be steering,
attentive and alert. It becomes almost unnatural to step out of the
pilots chair and close your eyes. When duty becomes habit. For good
or ill, it's hard to set it down. I tip my hat to everyone who knows
what I am talking about.
The
die is cast.
We
sleep with one eye open.
16
A
side note. I'm ready for a girlfriend.
(pause....)
Tap,
tap, tap. Hello ... is this thing on?
Seriously,
I love my cat.
But
come on.
(pause)
Sorry , I been driving through the desert.
The
mind wanders.
17
I
smell home cookin'.
4567
miles. Two hotels, more gas stations than we care to count, some
REALLY bad food, and some food that was so good I could hardly
believe it possible. The fish in Baton Rouge was plucked from Gods
own lake, garlic from the gardens of Isis, and wine from the cellar
of Dionysus.
There
seems to be smoke coming out of the iPod.
The
front of the majestic black Ford pickup is covered in bug pate'.
There
is a string of cheese eating surrender monkeys and state troopers
from here to Florida scratching themselves and wondering where that
beer bottle that just hit them in the head came from. No I kid, I
want to acknowledge some of Americas finest for an admirable job of
encouraging a semblance of sanity on the nations freeways, oh and the
not so freeways. You guys know toll booths are distributed a bit more
liberally on the east cost than they are out here. "What again?"
becomes an over used phrase.
But
they all let us pass. I think we said something right to the
Freemason
dude
in Manhattan. For real, he offered to give me his wife. (long story,
I declined his kind offer and settled for a glass of expansive
whisky.)
What
else, Pizza in Jersey, very good, a day at the Met, a night at the
Iridium, Tony Levin, cant be bad, the girl in the chocolate shop in
Rockefeller Center, and it wasn't just her beauty, but the whole
idea, heck, I didn't even go in there, just looked in walking by,
I'll probably carry that around for a while, until some angel with
sparkly eyes comes to shake me from my reverie.
In
the mean time, I'm cool, I'll get by on what I got. But I tell you
what, I have been motivated. It is clearly time to take the gloves
off. Kick it up a notch or two. Stick my tongue in someones ear. You
know what I'm talking about. Go all Michelangelo on your ass. I've
been sweating the small stuff for too long.
And
we are half an hour from Bob's home. I have done my job. Again.
And
picked up some good pointers on the way. I'm grateful and tired and
hungry and I want to tear a new hole in the fabric of the universe.
All and all, not bad for a weeks work.
We'll
talk again soon.
Be
good.
