I’m looking forward to mowing the lawn since I had that chore for the majority of my childhood. The two-year hiatus I took from mowing while I lived in the dorms has stirred strange longings for the grit and grime of manual labor. I think it’s just one of those things that appears a lot more fun after the unpleasant details fade away from memory. I guess I’ll figure that out either way soon. Besides, our little lawn shouldn’t be much of a problem compared to the giant acreage I slaved over in my youth. Maybe I was merely smaller then.
My next ambition is to build a half pipe in the backyard since we have more space than we know what to do with. Dan and Jim are both skaters even though they are a little older and not quite as die-hard about it as I seem to be. Although I must note, enthusiasm and skill are two different things, because I know Dan can shred his ass off when he wants to.
I’m excited to be moving in with Jim, he has a lot of savvy about him that I admire. Our ritual ramblings in his blue Mustang is one of the reasons I learned to appreciate smoking pot. We used to cut out of the dorms most nights and drive all around the back roads of Denton by the airport because it was such a pain in the ass to smoke out anywhere on or near campus. A lot of the roads we explored back then are the same roads Jenifer takes me out on when she gets that restless urge to drive. I have a lot of fond memories of Jim and me driving out by dinky-doo airport, smoking big bombers, hitting the proto pipe, listening to Paul’s Boutique on the tape deck and debating whether it is the greatest album ever. We’ve tripped our balls off on acid a few times and watched the lightning storms approach and rumble across the sky while listening to The Orb. Many philosophies and theorems about the secrets to life were debated and solved during our excursions and now we’re going to be living together so let the good times roll.
In moderation of course.
Looks like I’m going to the sows! I mean shows! Good news. Really good news, since there’s little more than a week left to get there. John Browning, one of Jenifer’s old boyfriends, is taking his giant white Ford Econoline van along with two other people up to the shows in Oregon and California. I don’t know how or why I got this lucky, but somebody must have cancelled on him for me to squeeze in a primo seat at the last minute. The deal with Jenifer and John B. is that they went out for a little while before she got bored. Then I suppose he was tossed aside like a bag of potatoes just like the rest of us. It’s a cruel, cruel world to live in when the girls get used to people constantly obsessing over them. Oh, the blessings and curses of having a sweet ass. Jenifer is one of those rare beautiful women that aren’t preoccupied with how much money somebody has or what they might one day be able to earn, (unlike some people who shall remain nameless) if so I would have been eliminated long ago.
John B. and I get along great. He’s got long brown hair and a fully-grown goatee. It’s not a look he’s carefully crafted as an alternative fashion statement either, his goatee comes from being genuinely unkempt. Loose overalls and t-shirts, a carefree attitude and genuinely nice. John’s the same age as I am but he owns half of the Karma Kafe’, a pretty successful business that guarantees he has major bank. I think maybe he likes me because I’m a fresh face that doesn’t hang out in his place all the time. I think he finds it refreshing that I’m not trying to gloss him over with hippy peace and love while trying to scam vegan sandwiches on the side. Plus we have the bond of being obsessed over the same girl and having to watch her go on a road trip all the fucking way across the country, to the same place, without either one of us. We share the spurned lover bond. Ha!
The other two guys going with us are also pretty cool. We kind of all met briefly, checked out the van and had a little smoke out together. It was kind of an introduction, to make sure I’m not a cop or a dickhead before we travel across the United States together kind of thing. There’s another John with really short hair that plays conga (pronounced cooonga) drums, who is all hyped about finding a drum circle at the shows and another guy named Mike who resembles a red Viking giant. One thing is for sure, if the pre-trip smoke session is any indicator, the marijuana will flow like water.
All three of them know a hell of a lot about the Grateful Dead, which is good because I don’t have much time to cram familiarity into my thick head. My plan is to absorb as much of their music as I can on the trip and attend the shows with an open mind prepared for nothing but a good time. I found out that the Dead let people tape all their live shows anyway so no-one can predict or know exactly what they will do each time they get together and play. Spontaneity, I dig it, I’m all over it. It’s even cool that I don’t own any of their music. Apparently anybody who is a true fan doesn’t pay much attention to the studio albums that the Grateful Dead put out anyway, John #2 said, “the early ones are ok and the rest are shit.” I don’t know, I always thought “Trucking” was kind of a cool song.
I talked to Jenifer and she’s still going with Kristoff and some other girl whose name is Deanna. They are driving in a dookie-brown-colored mini pickup truck so I don’t envy their travel arrangements. Sitting on somebody’s lap is fun for about an hour at the most and can make for an awfully long journey. We’ve talked a lot about how she feels for me lately so I’m lot more at ease about her going with him. Lord help me, I love this girl so much that I don’t want to be apart from her even for a day, but I think a little mini-vacation will do us both some good. Merely a short breath between passionate kisses I’m hoping. Enough about Jen though.
I’ve saved about 300 bones, 100 of which I’ve budgeted for a sheet of acid. Another hundred is to buy tickets (I don’t have ANY) to the shows, so I don’t waste my whole vacation sitting out in the parking lot toking up and listening to wisps of far off music that float outside. John Browning has an extra ticket to every show, so I feel confident we’ll be able to work something out. My last hundred bucks is allotted for gas money, food and any miscellaneous items I just have to have. There is a mini-loft in the back of John’s van with a futon mattress on top of it so that two people can sleep or lie down while two people sit up front and drive. Underneath the loft is where we’ll stash our gear and John scored a lot of wholesale muffins, pastries and granola-type things to snack on from the Kafe. He knows there are going to be some severe munchie sessions.
Minimalism is definitely going to be the way to go. I’m bringing my French Army pack from school. It should be big enough for a few weeks. Anything that won’t fit in there, I probably won’t need anyway, so fuck it. I’m also bringing my skateboard for good luck, plus if we run out of gas it might just come in handy. I can just skate down the shoulder of the freeway and get gas or something. Plus, you never know where you will find a perfectly awesome raging place to skate in the wilds of America. You never really know with the way things are raging in Cali right now.
Jenifer left two days ago. We finally left yesterday and had to smoke many bowls almost immediately to christen the van with positive energy. I’m very high. We all seem to have massive amounts of marijuana with us, each person packing for four or more. I’m ashamed to say that my pot, which is pretty good stuff, seems to be the lowest quality weed in the car. John Spiece (found out his last name finally, rhymes with crease) brought nothing but hydroponic kind bud with him. It’s taken my body about a day to happily adjust to the quality.
Fortunately with the enthusiasm of travel still being fresh I haven’t had to drive much yet.