trip to garden grove
"I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence, or insanity to anyone, but they've always worked for me." The late Dr (Gonzo) HST
Que pasa?
So I'm back on my side of the world, it's Friday afternoon on a 'balmy' late spring day and I feel like I've just smoked the biggest spliff in the world. A two week bender, God knows how much wine (though I imagine a certain wife of a certain good friend has a much closer accounting on that accord), and some torn up gonzo action on the streets of Larry capped my vacation in such fine style that I had to send my flatmate to the store this morning for a crate of grapefruit and 2 quarts of Wild Turkey so I could write this one out. Oh, and I'm jatlagged too. Don't know if it's the time change or the free Northwest airline booze that's given me this headache--not that I wanted to drink on the flight, I'd prefer to sleep actually, but some 19 y/o chick next to me who's meeting her fiance for the 2nd time (it was an internet thing) wanted to assure me of her fear of flying (for 12 hours), so I made it my mission not only to document this trainwreck for posterity but to test the limits of the flight crew's conscience at 41,000 feet to serve alcohol to someone reading Catcher in the Rye (I bought at the gift shop). I broke them an hour before landing during 'breakfast' when I asked for a double bloody mary with a JD chaser. On the down side, I still think Salinger was a punked out momma's boy who should have quit the business long before he hit the Apple.
Now, I'm sitting in my flip flops with Sublime up loud enough for me to question whether the pounding I hear is my frontal lobe or the police on my front door wanting me to kindly turn down the stereo while trying to figure out if that funny smell wafting from the balcony is some sort of funky grilled/smoked Turbot or an ounce of schwagg on a brazer--it's actually a dreadlocked mate of mine working his own grim version of the commodity trade via pager and mobile.
But enough of this. I want to thank everyone for showing me a good time in Lawrence and for helping me prove, once and for all, that it is a totally consequence free environment. Where else can you trade punches at 1:30 am and then walk to the King for some fine quality Lingua tacos and hippy baiting. And, that's just the tip of it; the spiral had only down to go after that, so when I found myself wandering across town 24 hours later after a day's worth of reshuffling the wine cellar and 'pulling' on Mass, all I could do was sigh--forget about it, it's Lawrence.
My current situation is very bleak. I'm in a universal shitstorm with the shutters wide open and broken latches on the windows wondering how I'm going manage my career, side job, dt's and training, and since there's only a week until the World Cup I'm searching for a solution to the 'speedball' problem. In a week's time, my flatmates B-day, and you all know what happens to me at B-day parties--for those of you who don't, think cops, bad cops, naughty, dirty, twisted cops of the best and worst kind. Then its an 8hr train to Edinburgh, followed by a 26.3 mile jaunt around the beautiful Scottish capital, some more celebration entailing 2 world cup matches. Somewhere in there as my soul slowly subsumes itself in its own decadence, I have an article to get out, a cirriculum to establish and probably an AA meeting--just to establish a baseline not to mention a trip to the Jura, Dijon and all points Burgundian to plan, and since I'm taking up stone carving (to relax) I should probably look at some sculpture.
so my friends, as I'm about to panic my way into a second bottle of wine, thank you all for reading and try to keep in mind that fear is just another word for ignorance.
out
Ben
Que pasa?
So I'm back on my side of the world, it's Friday afternoon on a 'balmy' late spring day and I feel like I've just smoked the biggest spliff in the world. A two week bender, God knows how much wine (though I imagine a certain wife of a certain good friend has a much closer accounting on that accord), and some torn up gonzo action on the streets of Larry capped my vacation in such fine style that I had to send my flatmate to the store this morning for a crate of grapefruit and 2 quarts of Wild Turkey so I could write this one out. Oh, and I'm jatlagged too. Don't know if it's the time change or the free Northwest airline booze that's given me this headache--not that I wanted to drink on the flight, I'd prefer to sleep actually, but some 19 y/o chick next to me who's meeting her fiance for the 2nd time (it was an internet thing) wanted to assure me of her fear of flying (for 12 hours), so I made it my mission not only to document this trainwreck for posterity but to test the limits of the flight crew's conscience at 41,000 feet to serve alcohol to someone reading Catcher in the Rye (I bought at the gift shop). I broke them an hour before landing during 'breakfast' when I asked for a double bloody mary with a JD chaser. On the down side, I still think Salinger was a punked out momma's boy who should have quit the business long before he hit the Apple.
Now, I'm sitting in my flip flops with Sublime up loud enough for me to question whether the pounding I hear is my frontal lobe or the police on my front door wanting me to kindly turn down the stereo while trying to figure out if that funny smell wafting from the balcony is some sort of funky grilled/smoked Turbot or an ounce of schwagg on a brazer--it's actually a dreadlocked mate of mine working his own grim version of the commodity trade via pager and mobile.
But enough of this. I want to thank everyone for showing me a good time in Lawrence and for helping me prove, once and for all, that it is a totally consequence free environment. Where else can you trade punches at 1:30 am and then walk to the King for some fine quality Lingua tacos and hippy baiting. And, that's just the tip of it; the spiral had only down to go after that, so when I found myself wandering across town 24 hours later after a day's worth of reshuffling the wine cellar and 'pulling' on Mass, all I could do was sigh--forget about it, it's Lawrence.
My current situation is very bleak. I'm in a universal shitstorm with the shutters wide open and broken latches on the windows wondering how I'm going manage my career, side job, dt's and training, and since there's only a week until the World Cup I'm searching for a solution to the 'speedball' problem. In a week's time, my flatmates B-day, and you all know what happens to me at B-day parties--for those of you who don't, think cops, bad cops, naughty, dirty, twisted cops of the best and worst kind. Then its an 8hr train to Edinburgh, followed by a 26.3 mile jaunt around the beautiful Scottish capital, some more celebration entailing 2 world cup matches. Somewhere in there as my soul slowly subsumes itself in its own decadence, I have an article to get out, a cirriculum to establish and probably an AA meeting--just to establish a baseline not to mention a trip to the Jura, Dijon and all points Burgundian to plan, and since I'm taking up stone carving (to relax) I should probably look at some sculpture.
so my friends, as I'm about to panic my way into a second bottle of wine, thank you all for reading and try to keep in mind that fear is just another word for ignorance.
out
Ben
posted by Ben-in-UK at 5:38 PM
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