We slept in a super dusty construction site in Omaha and in the morning we walked to a gas station to try to clean up. A kid pulled in just before we got there and we saw him rearranging BB guns in his trunk. I went into the bathroom to shake the dust out of my clothes and try to wash my skin, and this is what I saw when I came out. I think in “Maps” by the Front Bottoms where he says, “One day you’ll be washing yourself with hand soap in a public bathroom, and you’ll be thinking, ‘How did I get here? Where the hell am I?’” is about this moment.
This kid turned out to be really nice and really weird. He drove us 90 miles or something because he was lonely and didn’t want to go to sleep.
This is in Seattle after maybe one of the worst nights of sleep we ever had while traveling. We found this great park but it was full of sprinklers and it seemed like they were greeting us everywhere we went. We finally decided to lay down our sleeping bags on the grass by the empty skating rink because it was a little bit damp already. Our bags would get wet, but the sprinklers had already gone off, so at least we could get some solid sleep. Sort of. I don’t remember if we had fallen asleep or were still dozing off, but we were shocked back into reality with that awful hiss of sprinklers popping up out of the ground all around us. We dragged our things into the concrete as quickly as possible and tried to warm back up enough to sleep. A few hours later, we were woken up by the cold stream of water draining into the skating rink, slowed down by our sleeping bags. People ask, “Where do you sleep? Don’t people bother you?” but the biggest problem is sprinklers. Fuck sprinklers.
I just spent a week and a half in Bloomington. It was really nice.
I just told Zach about how me and Dave had to walk through a haboob when we were in Phoenix. We didn’t know what a haboob was yet and we thought maybe that’s just what the desert did at night. It was awful but we still stopped to take this picture of me with a giant cactus because I’m a dork.
June 21, 2012
Three things I love: Dave Bunn, Bananagrams, and Dr. Pepper.
Three things I hate: Greyhound trips, New York City Port Authority, and five-hour layovers.
A sign in the McDonald’s in Wytheville, VA. Am I stupid for not being able to figure out what this is trying to say?
Here are my notes from Wytheville:
- pronounced, “withville”
- meal stop, mcdonald’s, fuck, “greyhound diet”
- really cold out. car with doors open blasting pop music
- listening to girl reject persistent man. “i don’t want any fries, i’m not far from home and my boyfriend’s got dinner waiting for me.”
- thinking about the first summer
- don’t know if i’ve slept yet, maybe i’ll never sleep again
- now she’s on the phone talking about her boyfriend, who isn’t answering his phone. “lawd have mercy on me. this boy’s dancing on my nerves. he’s moonwalking on my nerves.”