I have a lot to cover, I know, but the past few days I've settled into a sluggishness. It's not that I want to go home, really. But I do have the feeling that I'd prefer to sit on the internet for more than an hour at a time, in some place other than a public library.
Or,
I'd like to sit in a bathtub all day and not be charged an extra night.
Or,
I'd like if I had a vehicle that could handle the piles and piles of shit I have. Papers, plastic bags, receipts, wrappers, ughh, clothes, ugh.
I promise in the future I will update on the who-what-where. Probably in Houston, where hopefully Rebecca will let me use her computer for more than an hour. Until then here are some bullets.
-Every time I pass a group of black cows, I think they are bears. Every time.
-I've gotten suddenly and seriously addicted to HBO's "In Treatment"
- Injuries
+ the back of my neck is sunburned, rendering me a redneck
+ my left ankle hurts from climbing through the steep, shifting sand dunes of White Sands
+ I have a cut on my left pinky from cutting a mango in a hotel room.
+ about 10% of my left thumbnail is missing from an incident where I tried to remove my key from an inpenetrable keyring
- Towns that I could have skipped and been just fine
+ Carlsbad, NM
+ El Centro, CA
+ Kerrsville, TX
- Something has leaked in my shower kit and I don't know what it is.
- Ross Perot or someone just like him showed me to my campsite at KOA and then invited me to Bible Study, so if I remember anything, I HAVE to remember to avoid being at the campsite at 7, because I think I promised him I'd attend.
- Do tourists think that by purchasing a cowboy hat, they blend in and become locals?
- British people speaking Spanish, unnatural and ticklish
- I considered but ultimately skipped returning to Santa Fe for a green chile cheeseburger at the Bobcat Bite. Sadness.
- The digital camera suffered an injury. I don't know what went wrong. Now I'm using one-time use cameras purchased two for the price of one from CVS, a deal I can only get using my CVS card.
- I ate two banana splits in 24 hours in southern New Mexico
- The stomach of the woman sitting next to me in the library just made a noise that sounded just like the zipper on my sleeping bag.
- Car is doing fine.
Showing posts with label texas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label texas. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Sun
Here is a pic near my campsite. Look at those rocks! Dang.
I did not sleep well. But I was in good spirits. Here is a video I took after waking up. My voice in it could be described as "husky."
Amarillo is pronounced am-a-RIL-o, not ah-mah-REE-o. I got this tasty rib plate. It includes ribs (yes?), onion rings, cole slaw, potato salad, beans, apricots, and texas toast. Which is just big toast. The apricots were a mystery, almost like baby food.
The woman at the restaurant directed me to a nice park where I could picnic. But I turned the wrong way and ended up at some industrial center. And this amused me.
Amarillo has Cadillac Ranch. Obligatory pics of it.
As you see, graffiti is encouraged. I found a spray can nearby. Actually there is a whole field of empty cans, and the first one I picked up happened to work.
It probably will be there for another week before someone else covers it up. Such is.
I saw a roadrunner, I think. I mean, it was a tiny bird that ran across the road, and it looked like the cartoon.
I did not sleep well. But I was in good spirits. Here is a video I took after waking up. My voice in it could be described as "husky."
Amarillo is pronounced am-a-RIL-o, not ah-mah-REE-o. I got this tasty rib plate. It includes ribs (yes?), onion rings, cole slaw, potato salad, beans, apricots, and texas toast. Which is just big toast. The apricots were a mystery, almost like baby food.
The woman at the restaurant directed me to a nice park where I could picnic. But I turned the wrong way and ended up at some industrial center. And this amused me.
Amarillo has Cadillac Ranch. Obligatory pics of it.
As you see, graffiti is encouraged. I found a spray can nearby. Actually there is a whole field of empty cans, and the first one I picked up happened to work.
It probably will be there for another week before someone else covers it up. Such is.
I saw a roadrunner, I think. I mean, it was a tiny bird that ran across the road, and it looked like the cartoon.
Texas loves you
I vowed that I would not spend another night in a hotel. I would find cheaper accommodations, and since I wasn't willing to do anything lower quality than the Rusty Skeez-pile Motel in GA, I would camp.
The first failed camp attempt I learned: never go looking for a campsite with anything less than a full tank of gas. The second failed attempt, I learned: never go looking for a campsite later than 5 pm.
I'm not a moron, usually. But I think I so desperately wanted this trip to be as un-planned as possible. And I learned the price for spontaneity is $95 a night.
I aimed for Texas.
Texas is like the threatening, mysterious friend of your parents. You can't predict him. Is he going to be cool and let you play king of the mountain in the basement? Or is he going to yell at you if you knock over a glass and threaten to hit you with his belt?
East Texas, is, not surprisingly, a lot like west Louisiana. But then it slowly gets drier and lighter in color, slowly fading. The trees are replaced with stubborn-looking shrubs. It was exciting. I have been to Houston once, and that is my only experience with Texas.
I approached Dallas out of necessity. It was too long to go around it. I had heard things about Dallas--that it was not cool, that it was horrible. This is almost exactly what I picture when I think of Dallas:
The criss-crossing overpasses were nothing compared to the evil that lay in store. I noticed that the sky was beginning to look like an egg carton. From what I remembered from Earth Science, this was very bad. Clouds are usually flat on the underside.
It was seriously Biblical. The sky was sort of green, too. I turned on the radio to hear if there were tornado warnings. No, but they warned of hail.
HAIL. HAIL YES. I drove through a maelstrom. Wind, torrential rain. Traffic was stopped so I could do nothing but sit in my car and think about animals being pelted with pea-sized hail.
The hail stopped, but the rain continued for another hour. And here's the best part of travelling. You just leave when it gets bad. Raining? Drive past the rain. When I finally saw the sun peeking through the clouds, I felt a renewed sense of freedom and promise. I celebrated by going to Dairy Queen.
Turned north at Abeline, drove up and through small towns where people looked at me as I drove by. I don't rememeber what I was thinknig when I took this pic. Probably something like, "Wow that looks just like what I thought the West would look like!"
Same here.
I did pass this sign.
I found the campsite fairly easily. The book said it was free, but there was a self-serve permit station, and it cost $6 to camp. You filled out the date and your license plate on an envelope and filled it with money. Probably no one in the area does this. Probably I am the only one. But I filled the envelope with quarters, because I'm a good person. And also I was imagining the ranger opening an envelope full of quarters.
They had four campsites on White River Lake. I picked the one farthest away from the road, so I wouldn't be bothered, and so no one would see me try and assemble my tent. My $20 children's tent from Walmart. I have to sleep in it diagonally.
One small lack of forethought: Lakes are filled with mosquitos. I wore my hoodie, jeans, and shoes, though it was like 70 degrees. Even still a few found their way inside.
I set up my little stove. I made my little Lipton side Fettucine Alfredo (not bad). I did some puzzles, and I tried to sleep. But did you know that ducks make sounds like braying donkeys? Maybe a mating thing.
The site was awesome, but I couldn't find a good angle. So the next morning I decided to take a video. I plan on uploading it, but I'm currently having trouble.
And one last thing. The roads were mostly empty. But when I passed a truck (always a truck), I noticed that the driver lifted up his or her finger from the steering wheel, the way you might do to say "Thank you for letting me go" or "hey there, I have the right of way, as indicated by this yield sign, which I point at for your convenience." Except every truck on the road did it to me. Finally I realized they were saying hi. What on earth. I did it back a few times.
The first failed camp attempt I learned: never go looking for a campsite with anything less than a full tank of gas. The second failed attempt, I learned: never go looking for a campsite later than 5 pm.
I'm not a moron, usually. But I think I so desperately wanted this trip to be as un-planned as possible. And I learned the price for spontaneity is $95 a night.
I aimed for Texas.
Texas is like the threatening, mysterious friend of your parents. You can't predict him. Is he going to be cool and let you play king of the mountain in the basement? Or is he going to yell at you if you knock over a glass and threaten to hit you with his belt?
East Texas, is, not surprisingly, a lot like west Louisiana. But then it slowly gets drier and lighter in color, slowly fading. The trees are replaced with stubborn-looking shrubs. It was exciting. I have been to Houston once, and that is my only experience with Texas.
I approached Dallas out of necessity. It was too long to go around it. I had heard things about Dallas--that it was not cool, that it was horrible. This is almost exactly what I picture when I think of Dallas:
The criss-crossing overpasses were nothing compared to the evil that lay in store. I noticed that the sky was beginning to look like an egg carton. From what I remembered from Earth Science, this was very bad. Clouds are usually flat on the underside.
It was seriously Biblical. The sky was sort of green, too. I turned on the radio to hear if there were tornado warnings. No, but they warned of hail.
HAIL. HAIL YES. I drove through a maelstrom. Wind, torrential rain. Traffic was stopped so I could do nothing but sit in my car and think about animals being pelted with pea-sized hail.
The hail stopped, but the rain continued for another hour. And here's the best part of travelling. You just leave when it gets bad. Raining? Drive past the rain. When I finally saw the sun peeking through the clouds, I felt a renewed sense of freedom and promise. I celebrated by going to Dairy Queen.
Turned north at Abeline, drove up and through small towns where people looked at me as I drove by. I don't rememeber what I was thinknig when I took this pic. Probably something like, "Wow that looks just like what I thought the West would look like!"
Same here.
I did pass this sign.
I found the campsite fairly easily. The book said it was free, but there was a self-serve permit station, and it cost $6 to camp. You filled out the date and your license plate on an envelope and filled it with money. Probably no one in the area does this. Probably I am the only one. But I filled the envelope with quarters, because I'm a good person. And also I was imagining the ranger opening an envelope full of quarters.
They had four campsites on White River Lake. I picked the one farthest away from the road, so I wouldn't be bothered, and so no one would see me try and assemble my tent. My $20 children's tent from Walmart. I have to sleep in it diagonally.
One small lack of forethought: Lakes are filled with mosquitos. I wore my hoodie, jeans, and shoes, though it was like 70 degrees. Even still a few found their way inside.
I set up my little stove. I made my little Lipton side Fettucine Alfredo (not bad). I did some puzzles, and I tried to sleep. But did you know that ducks make sounds like braying donkeys? Maybe a mating thing.
The site was awesome, but I couldn't find a good angle. So the next morning I decided to take a video. I plan on uploading it, but I'm currently having trouble.
And one last thing. The roads were mostly empty. But when I passed a truck (always a truck), I noticed that the driver lifted up his or her finger from the steering wheel, the way you might do to say "Thank you for letting me go" or "hey there, I have the right of way, as indicated by this yield sign, which I point at for your convenience." Except every truck on the road did it to me. Finally I realized they were saying hi. What on earth. I did it back a few times.
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