Tales from the road Part I


Thurs. 4 pm. Office. Talky talky. Office people on these things are always great and mean well. Really. But it’s like they’re speaking Japanese. I’m a trucker not a paper pusher – a do’er not a talker. Give it to me straight and send me on my way, yo. It’s not rocket science. I just need the main ingredients. I’ll figure out the spices on my own. Can’t believe the guy I blacklisted from my crew is on the team. Thank God I met another road dog (and a female to boot! Rare!:) here or I would’ve gone nuts being stuck in an office all week.

6pm. My friend Phili Fili and I chat over how much we miss production, building things, sweat, swearing, the set, the trucks, the diesel, the road. How the talkers misinterpret the way he interacts with the road crew by talking to them on their level rather than condescending to them like the rest of the office folk usually do. I leave. I can tell he wants to. It’s a trade off that I’ve been thinking of making but I’m still convinced that with the right person, I can have both.

Sat. 7 am. Hugs goodbye to Jay & Josh and new friends in Jersey. Great dj’s, Brooklyn, fantastic effing electronic music, people on various substances, annoying chix calling me Sweetie and patting my ass (one more time and she woulda got a boot up hers), fast driving in a stranger’s infinity with Detoit techno at all decibles, dancing in the darkness, The Bunker, redbull & vodka. NYC is candy. So weird how there’s So many a-holes in St Pete from NY and NJ because Every time I come here, people are nothing less than genuinely, amazingly awesome, welcoming, and nice. It’s like all the assholes move to Florida and ruin what should be a beautiful, magical place. I don’t get it. Anyway, I love the city but man, I can’t wait to get back to that awesome bed at the crowne one last time before the long drive ahead.

Sat. 3pm. Omg – this area of Pennsylvania is SOOO beautiful. Americana. Silos. Blue skies. Cumulus clouds. Pick-up trucks. Abondonded farm houses that look turn of the century almost. Old time Hank Williams and others on the ‘Americana Roots’ station I lucked into. My camera. American flags and pillars on old colonial homes. Tractors and green grass across sweeping hills far as the eye can see. The moment ripping my heart out wishing I could share it.

Sun. June 8

12 noon. Columbus, OH. Old friends. New baby. Suburbia. Little boxes on the hillside with perfect little square yards and matching men mowing them in the sunshine. House selling. Bob Villa. Blue eyes. Sincerity. Love. So much love. I could smell it on their towels. I was jealous and talked to Susan at length about life with a husband, with a child, with love. She said it’s all about him being a best friend. Communication and laughter. Sweeping passions of our 20’s replaced with something much deeper.

I think I know what I want, and it’s starting to scare the shit out of me less and less each day lately. “The Weepies” come on my mood Zune and they sing, “No amount of whiskey – no amount of wine – No No No – Nothing else will do. I gotta have you. I gotta have you.” I text him and tell him that they remind me of “us’ and after looking them up, he says, “You always find new ways for me to totally fall for you.”

I am thinking about things I haven’t considered in a long time. Maybe ever.

More driving. Less good scenery as I get further into the Midwest. Dinner date with me myself and I in Broad Ripple / Indianapolis tonight tho. Yaay.


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