sheraton chattanooga has already slain the hampton of winchester. haven't even showered yet. or had my breakfast delivered. or slept on the softness. stay tuned for tomorrow's rating.
saw my aunt and uncle's farm of radness in the hillbilly country of ridge-runners and holler-folk. house should be ready in six months and it's gonna kill. bobcats and shit live up there.
you know how everyone's always talking about the mountains of virginia? yeah, they're ALWAYS talking about that shit, right? anyway, it's a real thing these mountains. older than granite.
the cows seem to have it pretty good in virginia until you realize that their only purpose is to get eaten.
everyone should drive across the country once.
no one should do it seven times.
mind is going millions.
in order to free up the right-front speaker, i have to stack shit up on the passenger seat. i put a baseball cap on it and call it my friend. always agrees with me.
a pick-up towing a camper shoots by me at 85 or something and i tell my friend, "that doesn't look safe."
the camper blows out a tire. almost pulls the pick-up into a gully.
no one is hurt.
my friend says nothing.
may and robert have an amazing thing in progress up on that mountain, in floyd, virginia. they show me the work-in-progress. i talk a lot, still on the coffee. i want to build myself a house. anything to not have to keep driving.
coffee is not a code word.
a bumper sticker tells me that "a good cowboy is packed like a can of biscuits."
?
a sign tells me that pedestrians, bicycles, mopeds, animals, and self-propelled machinery are prohibited on the interstate.
who's policing the animals?
what is a "self-propelled machine?" a robot? remote-control?
and what incident made this addendum to the rules necessary?
the headquarters of krystal burger is across the street from my hotel and i feel they owe me something for that aborted world hamburger eating chamionship show they were going to fund. i put my heart into that volcano of creativity. want to throw meat at them as they head into the office in the morning.
or just set up my own chamionship event in their lobby.
the sheraton people send me out for food and drinks at the only place in town that's open - the city market cafe and bar across the street at the DAYS INN. classy.
the locals are restless. hollering about peyton manning and the indianapolis colts football team and eventually asking me to settle a dispute about both. i do that and then listen to them talk about the girls of chattanooga not being cool enough to party.
dude, you can barely walk and you're at the days inn.
one guy does math: 22+15=37. that's the age of the baqrtender plus the age difference equals how old her "older man" was. the older man at the bar says, "so 38 would be even better?" when he leaves, she tells him to be careful getting acrocc the parking lot. he says, "i'm just the fourth door on the left." "What room is that?" "138." i have less an idea of whether her question was earnest than i believe the drunk man does at this point. i mean, i'm staying at the sheraton. but are they gonna do it? did i just watch him pick her up? wait, what did she say was her favorite garth brooks album?
i turned down more work today. thousands of dollars. fuck it, i'm committed.
committed to going to alabasma (new name) tomorrow day and the old rouge tomorrow night for a stint with the good few. i will sleep for days.
now i just sleep for tonight, in comfort, and dream of my wakey-wakey eggs and bakey.
america is huge and driving is fucked, but cruise control makes it like you're watching it on tv, which is kind of worse.
SONG OF THE DAY: "jacking the ball" - the sea and cake
off their first album, this jam has sunrise and roads written all over it. a little bit too positive for my tastes normally (and right now) but, at the time, it was perfect. sun rising over maountains, bombing down the freeway, slightly fucked up on coffee and not sleeping for a week.
"bring my car i feel to smash it" (obviously) also works for today.
