Saturday, September 3, 2011

Restless



I am getting restless as hell. I'm not feeling like a wage slave. I'm not hanging with wage slaves. My part time hippie bus job is about to end for the season and I'm wanting to see the big world. The great Madame Pamita just did a reading for me and she assures me that love and adventure await me on the road.
I do not have a plan. I am not that good at plans. I am not going to do anything desperate like give up my house but if anyone would like to rent a room here at the Super Secret Pony Ranch arrangements might be made. My hot rod friend, Nic, has dubbed this place Jon's Super Secret Pony Ranch and I like the name. Rent would be around $450 a month but it's a really small room in a pretty small place. The location can't be beat and you will have the place to yourself for good chunks of time.
Initial plans call for a foray into the great Pacific Northwest, possibly as far a north as Abbottsford, BC, home of the great Mr. Beer N. Hockey.
If that's successful there might be a journey to the east coast in my future. Far off Brooklyn, the home of The Cahokian, beckons. There are still a few folks there I'd like to see and there are a great many demons I'd like to slay in my people's short lived homeland of New Jersey, or, as I like to call it, 'The scene of the crime'. I'd really like to see this hip new version of Brooklyn that the young people talk about. Brooklyn, for me, is the place where we visited Grandma and watched the relatives drink and complain about, "The goddam Puerto Ricans".
If money was no object I'd love to visit North Carolina for the annual performance of the Neil Diamond Allstars. I have a standing invitation and I'd love to honor it.
Then there's the friends all over the middle of North America. There's a chamber of commerce president I'd love to see in Joplin a tattoo artist in Detroit and a survivalist in Colorado.
There's a good chance I'll get seriously off the tracks I have beaten and go to Austin and I might even make it as far as Anniston, Alabama but I dunno. I am a yankee to the fuckin' bone. They might chase me back home.
So really, this is mostly a shopping list. If anybody would like a moody houseguest who snores but does put the toilet seat down, let me know. If you're interested in a temporary residence in a trailer on the edge of hippieville let me know.
Some of this is going to happen.
I never drove a Freighliner but I have driven a Road Commander. That was back before the short nosed conventionals that have become standard today. Me and the road, boy. I can go away but I can't stay away.
Steve Earle- White Freightliner Blues (Buy) 

5 comments:

Nazz Nomad said...

stay the fuck outta brooklyn aka hipsterville aka satans asshole. though the fact that you are sober might spare you from the breakdown that I had the last time I was there.

ib said...

I missed this post, what with exhumations on Venice Beach.

Sometimes, I think, it is better not to make plans - not in too much detail - sometimes it is better just to head out in the traffic and follow one's nose. I say this, of course, as someone who is far too entrenched. It takes a tyre iron to shift me into gear. A push to send me on my way.

I hope your trip runs smoothly, Jon.

Don't forget to write.

Mr. Beer N. Hockey said...

Hey man, I do not to be responsible for you getting back on the booze again.

Jon said...

Drink what you want Beer. I'm not that interested.

@eloh said...

The door is open here at Rancho.... and if not... just bang on the window above the air conditioner.... it's plexi' !

I'm famous for my fried chicken!

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