signs of pez

this one goes out to my pal, jonny pez, in columbia, mo.for some reason you've been on my mind a lot lately. i just passed an old train caboose on the side of the road that had yr name graffitied on it too. it seems you're practically famous out here on the west coast.

I LOVE L.A.!!

i pull off to the shoulder of the interstate,
and take in the beauty of the sierra nevada mountain range.

i had thought about going thru the mojave desert and death valley, instead, for the deathcab's sake, and maybe going to los angeles after that, but i'm glad i didn't. after my mis-adventures last nite in vegas, and having lived miserably in south florida for 16+ years, i'm pretty sure i'd hate LA, which i imagine as nothing more than a combination of both las vegas and miami.

in layman's terms, if las vegas and miami were two ugly, ecstacy-ridden, transsexual hookers who bumped, and grinded, into each other at a masquerade ball/rave in a gay niteclub, and then appropriately, and inappropriately, had intercourse, or something like it, in both the men's and women's bathrooms, and one, or both of them, somehow got knocked up in the process, the resulting offspring would be some "thing" very much like LOS ANGELES.

where the hell did that come from?

driving through my dreams

i drive westward, away from the desert, and into the mountains, towards a horizon punctuated by many large, futuristic windmills. it is hard to believe man to be capable of creating, and destroying, such a beautiful landscape, yet here it is.


i feel as if what i see does not truly exist; that it is all a mirage; that i am driving thru my dreams as they unfold in my head. there is some truth to this. in many ways, i am driving through, and to, my dreams.

a bunch of horse shit

unfortunately, it costs $6 to get in the ghost town of calico. that may explain why it is a ghost town. not many people are willing to check out a town it costs money to get into. and since when do ghosts need money? what do they spend it on? shoes? white sheets? cigarettes? needless to say i'm not going to spend my hard-earned money to see a bunch of money grubbing ghosts that are likely invisible anyway.

but i might as well take a snapshot of this giant cowboy with a shovel.
i don't quite get "ghost" when i look at this guy. i think of a guy shoveling horse shit. but i guess he could be digging a grave? i guess that's what they were going for? maybe they should re-consider their signage, to effectively convey the theme of "ghost town," otherwise people are going to think they're entering some "horse shit town" that happens to be called calico.

the ghost town of calico

i stop off in calico, ca about an hour later. guess the brakes are working again? need to get gas and use the potty.

i come to a stop at an intersection. i look to my left - there's a shitty-looking gas-station, and some tumbleweed blowing by. i look to my right - there's a shitty-looking gas station, and a sign that reads, "ghost town of calico, 6 miles ahead."

i pull into the less-shitty-looking gas station of the two (i'll let you decide which one that actually is). i get out and immediately notice there's no credit card insert on the gas pump. that's not a good sign, especially for someone living, and driving, off of a credit card. i guess i pay inside? i pump the gas then go in. i use the bathroom, with moderate success, then exit and approach the cashier to pay for my gas. i offer my credit card. he turns me down. they only take cash. i hope this isn't a reoccuring theme? i pay with the little money i have on me, then exit with slightly ruffled feathers.

i get back in the car and contemplate driving the additional 12 miles to get to and from the ghost town of calico. should i go? i'd be wasting even more time, and thus getting to san francisco, or wherever i wind up, even later than before...

i think about it as i pull back on the road. something... urging me... to go... can't... resist...

of course, i'm going! it's a ghost town! deathcab? in a ghost town? hello?! it's like the deathcab in devil's gulch, (though i guess that didn't turn out so well). there's just something that sounds all warm and fuzzy about it. as if it was written in the scriptures long ago; the deathcab's destiny. let's go...

on the way, in the distance, i notice, a quite obvious, C A L I C O crop circle on a hillside, and am instantly reminded of the big, bold letters of HOLLYWOOD.
but why on earth would a bunch of ghosts shave their town name in a hillside? why? do they really need all this attention? maybe they do? maybe they're sending a message to god and the heavens above, a reminder that, "hey, you left us down here in CALICO! right here, in CALICO! C A L I C O! stop pretending you don't see us! we know you're up there! when are you gonna come down and get us you fat bearded bastard (for some reason i'm imagining god as santa claus today)?!"

i hope that's not a rectal thermometer

been driving about 2-2.5 hrs now. crossed the california border not too long away. only at least 7 more hours to go... guess i could be using this time to think about all the important things in life that i have yet to figure out, instead of looking out the window mindlessly at all the pretty things going by. like - "how is it possible that my car is still running?" or "how is it possible that i'm still living in my car and wandering the country?" or "when am i ever going to have an income again? (still don't as of 4/16/06. make a donation please!)" or "how is the deathcab going to 'die'... again?" or "how many days is it going to be until i get my next shower and/or lay?" or "how many licks does it take to get to the tootsie roll center of a..."

"OOH, LOOK! THERMO-METER!! THERMO-METER!!"

not just any "THERMO-METER," but "the world's largest THERMO-METER" ...according to the billboard sign i just passed. of course, it's not actually big enough to see what the temperature is, but...

so, this is what baker, ca has to offer. a giant thermometer. must be one hell of a town. it's a shame my brakes aren't working right now, or i'd pull over and take a gander.

you know, a lot of people thought i'd search out this kind of crap while on the road? the world's largest so and so - thermometer, rubberband ball, burger, butt plug... no, i don't search these things out, they just magically appear before my eyes. it's really quite amazing. and no, i haven't actually seen the world's biggest butt plug, but i'm sure if and when i do, i'll let you know.

the question of the sunset and The Strip

i know i've given a somewhat negative portrayal of las vegas. the neon, the fakery, the stench, the hooker hotline trading card fuckers... i think i referred to it as - "an adult-themed amusement park/neon wasteland", "a giant cavity in the jaws of human decency and culture." no? i didn't? well, i guess i meant to.

to be precise, i referred to las vegas as - "the shittiest, most lavish piece of shit in all of western shit." i think that says it all really. but some time after my days in vegas, i was turned on to a book (thank you brisa), Air Guitar by Dave Hickey, offering a different point of view, an explanation of sorts that allowed me to see vegas in a different, less-shitty, light. and though i still don't really like las vegas, i have at least grown to appreciate it, for all its gaudiness and over-abundance. for there is beauty in all things, no matter how excessively shitty they may be. anyway, here's an excerpt to further explain -

"...every night I find myself struck by the fact that, while The Strip always glitters with a reckless and undeniable specificity against the darkness, the sunset, smoldering out above the mountains, every night and without exception, looks bogus as hell. It's spectacular, of course, and even, occasionally, sublime (if you like sublime), but to my eyes the sunset is always fake--as flat and gaudy as a Barnett Newman and just as pretentious.
Friends of mine who visit watch this light show with different eyes. They prefer the page of the landscape to the text of the neon. They seem to think it's more "authentic." I, on the other hand, supsect that "authenticity" is altogether elsewhere--that they are responding to nature's ability to mimic the sincerity of a painting, that the question of the sunset and The Strip is more a matter of one's taste in duplicity. One either prefers the honest fakery of the neon or the fake honesty of the sunset--the undisguised artifice of culture or the cultural construction of "authenticity"--the genuine rhinestone, finally, or the imitation pearl." - dave hickey, Air Guitar

roadkill a'head'

while attempting to leave las vegas, i take, what i think are, a few shortcuts... just to end up stuck in a mess of traffic and construction. and guess what? it's fucking hot here in the desert, even in december! i have no a/c. my balls are sweaty. i feel ill.

i decide to backtrack, realizing these shortcuts are not working out to be quite as short as i had hoped for. i have just added approximately 40 minutes of pointless driving to my already long day of driving ahead. hurray!!

i eventually stop off at a gas station a little ways outside of vegas, where the casinos are fewer and farther between. i fill'r up ('r being the deathcab) while looking out to what may be the last casino in my horizon. al..most... gone...

i go inside to pay for the gas. the lady working the counter has a big, brown perm lying misshapenly on her head. it could be a wig? it could be a dead animal? who's to say really? she's pleasant enough though, and all smiles...

"how are you doin' today darlin?" she asks, with a slight spit of, what seems to be, southern hospitality.

i'm confused for a moment - did i take a wrong turn and end up back in north carolina? oh wait, NO, of course not. that's the desert, there's a casino, and this lady is just a robot with built-in southern charm functionality.

"glad to be the hell out vegas!" i eagerly answer back with a large grin.

"hush now! don't you say that." she half-jokingly replies, smiling as she hands me my receipt.

i depart, glad to be on my way, further, out of vegas.

so, where is it that i'm going now?

san francisco. i think it's time i finally, and officially, make it to the west coast. there's some old friends i want to see there (some of which, you may recall).

now keep in mind, it takes approximately 9 hours to drive straight from vegas to san fran, according to ya-hooooo! but we all know i don't drive "straight," anywhere. 9 hours could easily turn into 12...13...14...72...4654... 569.5 miles could easily turn into 700...800...8,849 (my total distance travelled as of this morning)... point being, it's gonna be "A REAL LONG DRIVE IN A CAR!", which means:

1. i am going to lose my mind, if i haven't already.
2. i am going to develop some nasty-ass butt sores from the excessive sitting i'll be doing, if i haven't already.
3. i'll be arriving in the quite large city of san francisco, after dark, completely lost and exhausted, tooling around in my clunker of a car with either minimal, or completely-locking, brakes. oh, yeah, and i have no idea where, or if, i'll be sleeping tonite?!

why do i do this to myself?

{ modest mouse - a life of arctic sounds }

a list of my expenses in vegas

coffee & banana for dinner - $4.95
gambling & stalking people in casinos - $2.00
money spent on hookers/prostitutes/lodging - $0.00
fucking around las vegas & sleeping in my car in the walmart parking lot - PRICELESS...
yet stupid, and not recommended for our viewers at home.

leaving las vegas

this is the last thing i saw (my dear friend from last nite)...

before they sent in the bombs...
and blew up las vegas.
i was one of the fortunate few to have evacuated in time.

"goodbye, sweet LIVER-ACHEE, goodbye forever..."

waking up in the walmart parking lot of las vegas

it's 7:30am. the sun is in full bloom, birds are chirping (this is a lie, birds don't chirp in las vegas, they shoot craps), it's a beautiful day in the desert...

i sit up in the back of my car, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. i'm alive?! i smile, not really surprised, but more grateful to have made it thru the nite without incident. i look around at the traffic already collecting on the streets; the world has started without me.

"alright, time to get the fuck out of vegas!!"

leaving - las vegas
starting mileage - 205859
destination - california??

*ooh! brilliant idea - i should make t-shirts that say, "i spent the night in the walmart parking lot of las vegas, and all i got was this stupid shirt."*

a few miles later...

can't stay awake... eyes closing... must sleep...

i decide it's no longer in my best interest to drive around las vegas half-conscious. maybe i should pull over and spend the nite at one of the many hotels here?

with some consternation, i instead pull into the parking lot of, what is, without a doubt, the finest, 1-star resort, in all of las vegas - WALMART. did you really expect me to sleep elsewhere? and thus, pass up the absurd luxury of being able to say, "i once slept in the walmart parking lot of LAS VEGAS?!" come on?

i circle the lot a few times, trying to find an ideal place to set up camp, but i sense something... odd. there's something about this walmart that makes it different than any other walmart i've ever been to. what could it be? i look around inquisitively. oh, yes... it's right next door to a bar?! a trashy-looking dive bar at that, appropriately named, DIVE BAR!

now, surely someone has realized such a colossal mistake?! putting a bar next to a walmart?! think of the type of people that shop at walmart, for god's sake!! it's certainly not the upper echelon of society (good white rich folks)... they usually shop at TARGET. no, it's you and me - the bottom half of middle-class america, and all below, the scum of the earth (no offense intended). now imagine, all of these people - us, in addition to being the scum of the earth, are... DRUNK!! yes, DRUNK!! thanks to our friendly, neighborhood DIVE BAR!! conveniently located next door to our home away from home, the local WALMART!! i'm guessing you're beginning to see the potential problems that lie ahead. gunfire, looting, riots, murder, sex on the streets... all, or most, of which i no longer wish to be a part of.

with much consternation and hesitation, i park my car, in a space as far from the hustle & bustle of the walmart & dive bar as possible, but still within the confines, and perceived safety, of their lots. i slip into the backseat, close my eyes and quietly pretend not to hear the yelling drunk walmart customers as they pass near.

picking up where we left off

at some point between 1 and 3am, i left the warm and loving, neon lit, stale-cigar-scented, hooker-laden confines of downtown las vegas behind, for what else, but my car (and home), the deathcab.

we frolick away, slowly but surely, from the hubub of the downtown strip, off to...

wait, where is it that i'm going? wasn't i thinking of going back to boulder city for the nite, to drink and sleep around a campfire with gina and her friends? too late for that now. and i'm too exhausted to drive that far anyway. need sleep asap. so, where is it that i'm going?

now, normally, or abnormally, when sleep beckons, i just find a relatively safe place to park the car, and pass out in the back. but i'm in las vegas, is there really "a relatively safe place to park the car, and pass out in the back" here? hmm..?

i ponder my options, while cruising around in the deathcab; foggy-eyed, half-asleep, and dreaming...

i could get a hotel room for the nite? one with a hot tub, of course. or pass out in a prostitute's loving vagina... i mean, arms... i mean, vagina? or maybe i'll just continue driving around las vegas in my loveable, huggable deathmobile, with the four pounds of weed in my glove compartment, a broken tail light, and that stolen/loaded firearm under the passenger seat, hoping i get pulled over and sent to the "big house" for the nite and possibly next few years? the "big house" sounds pleasant and safe enough. and it implies a much 'larger' living space, than what my car currently provides. it would be nice to spread out some. been feeling a little cramped these days.

*some of the things i just said are simply not true, but rather scenes from my upcoming screenplay, loosely based on my adventures with the deathcab. it will be pitched to movie execs as a 3-part epic; a 'trilogy', if you will; a sexual romp; a "HERBIE (THE LOVE BUG), MEETS NEW JACK CITY... IN HELL!!"*

*some of the things i just said are, again, simply not true.*

"OH, LOOK! THERE'S A HEAD FLOATING IN THE SKY... A-HEAD?!"

"i must be dreaming! it's the decapitated head of... LIVER-ACHEE!"

i smile calmly, convinced the floating head i see, "A-HEAD", is just a mirage.

"oh, sweet, detestable, LIVER-ACHEE! you're just so pretty! look at you! all decked out like a human poodle! oh, sweetheart, you do know a thing or two about 'doggie-style', now don't you? ah, shee-it!!"

as i drive closer, to the decapitiated head of "LIVER-ACHEE", i begin to realize, "LIVER-ACHEE", is not a figment of my imagination, but real and... definitely gay!

and then i notice something...

"wait!! that's a 'B' not a 'V'! (told you so, katie) you're not 'LIVERACE'!! you're 'LIBERACE'!! all these years... i thought you were someone you're obviously not. i am sad... now, i am angry! tell me, what have you done with the real LIVER-ACHEE?! are you he?! or are you an imposter?! just like everything else in vegas - a fake! a hoax! a scam! like the $2 mexican transsexual i mistakenly had sex with thinking he/she was a wholesomely-womanly prostitute! damn you LIBERACE! damn you!"

*again, some of things i just said are simply not true.*

we interrupt this story to bring you

a message from jamie,
who is, presently, back in the future...

04/02/06 - dear friends, i'm guessing most of you have noticed a severe lack of updates for the last few months. since the end of january 2006, until now, i've been incapable of doing much of anything in the realm of creative production, such as writing, and/or updating this, here, website. there's a lot of reasons why, but we can sum it up by saying, "i've been extremely weary, and both mentally and physically exhausted." the cause and effect, of which, is an enormous clusterfuck of ideas and random shit stuck in my head. my brain is stopped up with too many things, all trying to come out at once, rather than in tiny digestable morsels. in other words, i'm mentally constipated, and in need of an ex-lax for my brain.

since finishing PARAGRAPH 1, above, i've consumed approximately 38 ounces of the 44OZ DIET COKE/FANTA STRAWBERRY SODA-FOUNTAIN-SUICIDE-DRINK i recently purchased from a not-so-nice-looking convenience store clerk who was, and is, sporting an apparent skin infection, the likes of a chicken and/or small pox, and/or a full-body-blown herpes. my potentially skin-disease-infested beverage is, as fate would have it, a wonderous digestive laxative, as i write this while perched on the edge of a toilet seat, with many a colorful thing shooting from between my parted butt cheeks. it seems i've been blocked up in areas other than just my brain.

since finishing PARAGRAPH 2, and having lost about 5 pounds of unnecessary baggage from my bowels and brains, i have started to feel a whole lot better. i think the soda-suicide did the trick. perhaps, it is finally time to write again, and get everyone, including myself, caught up on what i was doing while out on the road. please forgive the delay.

sincerely,
jamie

greetings from sin city!

"hey kids, guess you're wondering what i'm up to? obviously something sinister..?

nope, just hanging out with my lady friends, edna and betiffany here, at the MGM GRAND casino again (finishing up another round of my game). i couldn't figure out the slots myself, so i'm watching these gals play instead.

go betiffany!
(yawn...)
go edna!
(yawn again...)

well, shit, this is boring. you'd think a couple of vegas hookers would be more exciting, but i can't pry these two away from the slots. not that i really want to. i'm exhausted, and they're ugly. plus the $4.95 i spent on my banana and coffee kind of put me in the hole. no money for sluts.

(yawn yet again...)
well, let's get out of here, shall we..?"

and then i spot a star, a very small star

a short dark-skinned man, just slightly taller than santa's little helpers, passes before me. his long black curls of hair blow back as he darts by with all the speed of a midget on cocaine.

strange? he looks familiar. wonder where i've seen him? not albuquerque, not fargo, not manitoba..?

he's out the door before i realize, "he's the middle-eastern guy from LOST!!" (aka naveen andrews).

then it hits me, "wait, i don't care!"

i notice this seems to be the response of most everyone else as well. a questioning double-take, then an ambivalent, "oh, that guy!! wait, who cares?"

i'm surprised more by his size, or lack their of, than by his presence.

meet elisha

a girl sits down next to me, as the elves frolick away in the distance. i pay little attention, too dazed, confused, and exhausted from the day's events. my mind more on the blur of people passing by than on the girl to my right.

she releases an audible sigh, possibly to get my attention.

"sigh..."

i turn, noticing she's quite attractive, in spite, or because of, my blurry vision. i try to perk up, but to no avail.

"enjoying vegas?" she asks.

"yeah, it's alright," i reply, lacking all enthusiasm.

"been to any good (vegas) shows?"

"no, i haven't actually..."

she takes that as her cue; i sense we're not just engaging in small talk.

"there's a party tonite at (so and so). all the stars (presumably from the billboard music awards) will be there. here, take this, it's gonna be a lot of fun..."

she hands me an invitation. i decline politely.

"nah, i'm not interested. too tired. been driving and walking around all day (and i don't give a fuck about stars)."

she drops her sales pitch as quickly as she started, realizing i'm not to be bought nor sold.

"yeah, no one famous is gonna be there. i'm just telling everybody that to get people to show up. it's gonna be dead. me and him," she points to a guy standing a few feet away, talking on a cellphone, "...are supposed to be recruiting people for this party, but he's too busy talking to his girlfriend. well, what's your name?"

"jamie."

"i'm elisha. what brings you to here?"

i explain it all - living in a car, traveling the country, potato-climate-sasquatch-man...

"you're sleeping in your car?! well, if i were you, i'd stay in places like this (the MGM GRAND hotel), where there's hot tubs!"

the absurdity of her statement hits me like a ton of bricks. it's like telling a poor, homeless man he should live in a mansion and not in a cardboard box under the overpass!!

i shake my head and laugh aloud.

"so, if you were in my shoes, you'd be staying in hotels with hot tubs?!"

"yes," she replies, matter of factly.

i stop laughing, painfully realizing i'm talking with a barbie doll, not a human being.

"where were you before you got to vegas?"

"well, i was most recently in flagstaff and the grand canyon, ever been?"

"no, i haven't."

"well, if you ever go, you should do this..."

i show barbie my nudie grand canyon pics, hoping it will bring some color and life to her plastic cheeks. i succeed.

"oh... my... god! you should've warned me! i can't believe you're going around showing people that!"

i reply, equally as shocked, "what are you talking about?! this is LAS VEGAS!"

then it dawns on her. she laughs, "well, yeah... i guess you're right?"

we talk for a few more minutes, more friendly and freely, now that the ice is broken... or shattered to bits, as the case may be. she asks my name once more before standing and departing, moving on to corral other victims for her party. i remain seated, pondering my future under the colorful spindly tentacles of the christmas jellyfish.

of course! the slots!

guess nuns aren't the only ones allowed to gamble.

a jacques cousteau christmas

i make it back to the lobby of the MGM GRAND. sit down and relax in front of a few jellyfish-like christmas arrangements, feeling like jacques cousteau in an underwater vegas christmas special.


"...a school of elves race by quickly, fearing my outstretched arms to be the cold, all-enveloping tentacules of le monstre, octopussy. if only i could assure mon petit amis, that i, am no monstre, but a gentil monsieur. look, as the elves swim avec l'autre, grander poisson, perhaps hoping to evade un predateur - the magnifique, dangereux, great white... santa!!"

i wonder where they're going?

the biggest and only ass i ever saw in vegas

after devouring my banana, i resume my half-conscious trek along the vegas strip, working my way back to the mgm grand and then hopefully out of this godforsaken place. the bright lights and hooker hotliners attack me, once more, along the way. i'm tired and pissed off, and becoming more so with each and every flick in the face. i gaze angrily at the solicitors, telling each of them to "eat shit and die" with my swollen red eyes. i pass by, somehow managing not to rip off a finger, or punch a face in.

i reach an escalator and hop aboard, hoping it will lead me away from this hell and into the heavens above. at the crest of the stairway, i'm greeted neither by god nor an angel, but by the next best thing...

the biggest ass i've ever seen.

everyone around seems to be trying not to look at this ginorm-ass. not me though, i'm staring right at it, inspecting every hair and pimple, in between sips of my overpriced coffee; memorizing and photographing the details of this fine work of art while others look on strangely.

it's remarkable how a 50-foot thonged ass - so smooth, and delicate, and... creamy, can remind a person how much he/she truly needs to get laid.

*in regards to the actual size of this ass, you see this . ? yes, that, the period. that's the size of my head in comparison.*

i changed my mind about the hookers

i sluggishly traverse the vegas strip like a zombie in need of "brains! brains! i must have brains!!" i check out my dining options as best i can in my current state of half-conciousness. all i see are buffets and fast-food restaurants. just want something small and cheap. so, i walk into... a starbucks. mistake #1.

"yes, one banana and a small coffee please..." i hand over my credit card. the cashier rings me up and swipes my card before i notice the total.

then i notice the total...

then i shit a brick...

"4.95?! for a banana and a coffee..?!" the cashier nods.

i reluctantly autograph the bill, while cursing starbucks and vegas under my breath.

fucking starbucks! fucking vegas! could've gotten a steak buffet and an hour of phone sex for just $5 more. instead i'm sitting here sucking on the most expensive banana ever with no one whispering sweet dirty nothings in my ear.

truer words have never been spoken

in regards to las vegas.

no hookers, thank you

the bellagio.

just another ginormous hotel/casino with a fantastic fountain display. nothing special. guess if i hadn't been walking around las vegas for the last 3 hours on an empty stomach, after having driven for about 6 hours, and after getting no sleep in a frozen car, i'd show more interest. ain't feeling it though. the neon lights, the crowds of people, and all the hooker hotline solicitors lining the streets, flicking their hooker hotline trading cards in my face, are just worsening my already grumpy disposition.

upon closer inspection

...it appears the fairyland castle is, in fact, made of legos.

nothing noteworthy inside. just more slot machines and the stench of stale cigars.

a few seconds later it dawns on me

shit, where's my pen?! kareef totally swiped my pen! that was my favorite one! wait, hold on... am i missing anything else?

i give myself a pat down, checking all my pockets, and the contents of my man-purse.

okay, camera's there, sketchbooks and journals all there, wallet's in my right pocket, phone and keys in the left, watch is on my wrist... wait, where's my watch?! shit, kareef totally swiped my watch!

wait, i don't wear a watch? okay, he just took my pen...

i walk back towards the clever thief who is now harrassing a crowd of other patrons less willing and giving than myself. i join the crowd and interrupt mid-shpeel.

"hey, kareef, i think you've got something of mine..."

he looks up, and smiles. then reaches in his back pocket while saying jestingly, "yeah, man. you're right. i totally swiped your pen from you! here you go!"

i smile back, equally good-humored about it

...then i quickly pry my precious pen from his grubby little fingers!!!

iceman, huh..?

there's two types of people in this world -

type A - a person who upon hearing the word, ICEMAN, immediately envisions the marvel comics mutant super-hero / X-MAN of the same name.

or

type B - a person who upon hearing the word, ICEMAN, immediately envisions val kilmer parading around a men's locker room in nothing but a towel, sticking out his girly-man bird chest while saying disparaging things about tom cruise

...in a popular scene from TOP GUN.

i'm guessing you know which type i am.

a fairyland castle, the statue of liberty, a rap group...

nope, nothing unusual here.

lost in the neon wasteland known as las vegas. having as hard of a time figuring out all the walkways and escalators outside of the casino as in. too easily distracted by the circus-like surroundings. i get on a crosswalk (pictured here) overlooking the vegas strip. where am i going? i see a big flashing neon sign for "NEW YORK, NEW YORK" - another casino building/mini-city extravaganza. i head that way... i'd rather be in new york than vegas, right now.

just ahead on the crosswalk are 4 young black guys, stopping passers-by, asking if they'd like to hear or purchase a copy of their CD. soliciting, what i imagine is rap, or hip-hop music. now, under normal circumstances i would avoid these fellas altogether. lose myself in the crowd and sneak past while they harrass some other unlucky, defenseless chap. but today i'm feeling ornery. i want to be harrassed by four young black guys selling underground las vegas hip-hop music. don't know why, but i do? so, i walk full on into the closest solicitor, giving him no alternative but to ask me if i'd like to partake in his goods...

"hey man, you wanna hear some of our music?"
he's already handed me a pair of headphones.
"sure, why not..?"
"just asking for a donation if you like what you hear."
"okay, cool."
"you wanna hear somethin' heavy, or smooth..?"

hmm... tough call. DMX or BARRY WHITE? DMX or BARRY WHITE?
now, under normal circumstances i would say, "BARRY WHITE, FUCK YEA! DMX IS TOTAL SHIT!" but today...

"something heavy please."
"alright, check this out."

he plays a few tracks for me. i listen. not bad, not bad at all... i shake my head agreeingly.

"what's the name of your group?"
"POWER MOVE, here's our cd..." he hands me a copy.

printed on the cheap xerox cover, in large bland letters, are the words "POWER MOVE." just below the title are each of the four members, standing in front of, and facing, a brick wall. their backs to the viewer. each dressed in a slightly-varying shade of grey, oversized, sports blazer of the 80's-early 90's fashion (shoulder pads!), with a fist raised in the air as if to be knocking on the wall behind them. it looks oddly similar to bel, biv, devoe, & bobby brown leaning against the side of a brick building, taking a wiz.

i reach in my wallet to offer a donation for such a prized commodity. my friend asks a question while i do so...

"you don't look like the vegas type, what brings you here?"
"potato-climate-sasquatch-man," i reply, pre-empted with "i'm an artist who is..."
"oh, yeah? what kind of art do you do?"
"painting, illustration, photography, graphic design, websites... all of it."

i successfully pull out a bill from my wallet. a fiver. shit! that's a little higher than i was anticipating on offering. wait, that's the smallest bill i've got?! i don't want to ask for change on a donation..?! i hand over my prized commodity.

"thanks. hey, we're actually looking for someone to do our posters and website. maybe you'd be interested? what's your name?"

"jamie. yeah, here let me give you one of these..." i reach in my bag for one of my custom postcards advertising my website (the same postcard a lot of you at home have received). i get out a pen and jot down my contact info on it.

"what's your name?"
"kareef."
"here check this out, if you're interested maybe we can work something out?"
"yeah. hey actually, i think i know someone who might be able to help you out. he works with up-and-coming artists and musicians here in vegas. gets em gigs. he booked our last show. they call him... ICEMAN. here let me give you his phone number. can i see that pen a sec?"

i hand over my pen.

on the inside cover of my cd, kareef writes "ICEMAN" and ICEMAN'S corresponding telephone number.

"ICEMAN?" i chuckle.
"yeah, i know. he's cool though. give this guy a call."
"okay, thanks... (ICEMAN)?!"

we shake hands. i start to walk away.

"hey, you never know? god works in mysterious ways..."
i turn around, answering, "yeah, i know..."

sorry, i had to get out of there

"the stench of stale cigars was a bit too much... unggh!!""so, i'm outside now. wandering up and down the vegas strip. let's go..."

i know you're there

"...staring at me from behind that double mirror." "that's alright, i take pictures of you taking pictures of me!! ha ha ha!!"
"I WIN!!"

what happen..? i lose..?

"piggies no going wild..?!""GOOD LUCK..?! stupid game! i kick you!!"
"i want my mr. lucky fortune cookie!!"

what do we have here?

"mm... flying pork!... gold!!""piggies gone wild!!! I WIN!!!!"

how do i play this one?

"3 scattered..?"

"...trigger rich little piggy bonus..? 3 what? oooh, flashing button! i touch you..."

hmm, rich little piggies..?

"mm... pork... and money!!"
"5 piggies wild..? 50,000 multi denom..? i do like denom. ooooh.. elvis piggy!"

wait?! nuns are allowed gamble?

i checked the ten commandments. she's kosher.

maybe i should take the nun's advice

...and move on to another machine, where there are fewer prying eyes."goodbye mr. lucky fortune cookie. goodbye... i love you. write soon. ok. bybye."

i feel like i'm being watched

...like someone is hovering just over my shoulder...

spying on me... and mr. lucky fortune cookie...
"why everyone want to look at you mr. lucky fortune cookie..?"

STOP!

"mm..? dragon??.. fru fru drink.. fru fru drink.. fortune cookie.. fan..? i win..?"

"I WIN!!"

what happen..? i win..?

"maybe i mash all buttons at once...""no msg!.. no msg!.. no msg!.."

how do you play this thing?

"get 3 or more consecutive..? win mr. lucky bonus..?"

"mm... pretty colors... oooh, flashing button! i touch you..."

mr. lucky... fortune cookie..?

"there's something about you... i... i... i just can't resist. here, please... take my money."

wait... what's this?

"oooh... pretty lights..."

peekaboo...

"be vewy vewy quiet. i'm hunting gambwers. heh heh heh heh heh..."

the game continues

"gotta work fast..."

"now you see me, now you don't."

blowing your wad (at the slots) - an explanation

i had to have an unwitting gambler take that last picture for me - rule 2a.

a lady was sitting at a slot machine perpendicular to the gals in the photo. i couldn't find a spot to prop the camera. so, i asked her if she'd take my picture for me. to which she replied, "of, course."

so, i sat down between the two unsuspecting gamblers as she readied the camera. then she said, "okay, make a pouty face like my daughter."

confused, i asked, "i'm sorry?"

"she always makes this pouty face when she's just blown her wad... (at the slots)."

to which i replied, "huh-huh-huh-huh-huh-huh! you just said..."

no, i didn't but i did think it.

instead i replied, "i'm not sure what that would look like, i don't think i know your daughter?"

"well, just make a pouty face."

so, i did. but she couldn't quite figure out my camera and the idea of making a pouty face like her daughter when she's just blown her wad, was a bit too much to bear. so, i started laughing.

thus, my jovial expression in the photo.

*here's a useless fact - i think that is only the second picture i've asked someone else to take. all the other times it's been me. either a straight shot, or by propping the camera and setting the timer.

a game to pass the time

"hey, don't tell anyone, but i'm sneaking around the casino taking pictures of myself with unsuspecting gamblers. it's so much fun!"

"here's the rules:

1. find an empty seat at the slots between two unsuspecting gamblers.

2. prop a camera somewhere in back of them without them noticing.
2a. if there is no place to prop the camera, ask a 3rd unwitting gambler to take the picture for you. skip to # 4.
3. set the camera on timer.
4. sit yourself between the two unsuspecting gamblers as if you are about to play the slots yourself.
5. turn around at the last second and pose for the picture.
6. escape without them noticing, or being aware of, your actions."

the slots!

but we all know there's more important things in the world than stars and boobs. or is there? probably not. regardless, let's move onto the casino, where i'll likely blow every cent of the donations i've recieved via this website...

...that is what you intended for me to use that money on, right? it's not like i need it for anything important - food, gas, showers, clothes, a home..?! who needs all that when you have slot machines? slot machines i say!!

too much stimuli

in MGM GRAND. trying to find a bathroom. not having much luck. too many things distracting me. the stores, the lights, the people, the casinos...

the billboard music awards VIP post-party to my left...

the dancing girls with (likely) fake boobs to my right...

decisions, decisions...

i finally locate a bathroom after asking both a security guard and store clerk for assistance. relieve myself. then return to my previous post - standing between the VIP party and dancing girls. one eye on the lookout for stars, the other on the (likely) fake boobs not moving up and down.

backing that ass up... just a little

flashback to about 5pm or so.

shortly after arriving in las vegas, nv (for the first time in my life) i went to... not a casino... not a strip show...

why, the PUBLIC LIBRARY! and then a TARGET! i may be the only non-resident of las vegas who's been to such places!

did a couple updates from the PUBLIC LIBRARY OF LAS VEGAS?! how scandalous?! there were a plethora of cops at the library. but no strippers. that i noticed.

after that i drove down las vegas blvd - the strip. which is where i took all the daytime shots of the casinos, buildings, the pimp/pauper, the cowboy clown car, etc. etc....

after that i found a TARGET. got some directions/advice from the lady working the jewelry counter. she clarified a few important things for me like:

where to park - hotel garages. free.
places to avoid - the stretch of las vegas blvd i just came from.
where the local walmart is - in case i have to spend the nite. which is scary to think about.

along my travels, i found the campus of UNLV - the university of nevada, las vegas. now who in their right mind sends their kids to college in LAS VEGAS?! you're just asking for trouble. or a child with a B.A. in GAMBLING and/or STRIPPING. think of all the copious amounts of alcohol and unprotected sex you had while in college. or will have in college. plus all the other debauchery. then imagine it having taken place in las vegas?! yeah, scary. yet likely a lot of fun...

after all that, and then some, the sun finally set. i parked the deathcab at the MGM GRAND garage. then headed inside. which is where we'll return to our story...

LAS VEGAS, NEVADA!!

the picture i showed my therapist

a couple cowboys driving a painfully-bright-yellow volkswagen beetle...
uhh...?? what was that?! i think i'm in shock?! i don't know what to say...

my therapist (mr. t, for short): well, what do you see in this picture?
jamie: a couple cowboys driving a painfully-bright-yellow volkswagen beetle.
mr. t: good good. that's what i see as well. now, what's the first thing that comes to mind, when you look at this picture?
jamie: umm... GAY?
mr. t: okay, GAY. good. i'm writing that down. what else comes to mind?
jamie: umm... GAY.
mr. t: right, you said that. other than GAY, what comes to mind when you look at this picture?
jamie: umm... HOMO-EROTIC?
mr. t: okay jamie, other than GAY and synonyms of the word, GAY, what comes to mind?
jamie: umm... THE VILLAGE PEOPLE.
mr. t: THE VILLAGE PEOPLE..?
jamie: ...IN A CLOWN CAR.
mr. t: THE VILLAGE PEOPLE IN A CLOWN CAR..? okay, anything else?
jamie: umm... THE AMBIGUOUSLY GAY DUO.
mr. t: THE AMBIGUOUSLY GAY DUO..? who are they?
jamie: oh, sorry. here, take a look at this. and this.
mr. t: okay. so, THE AMBIGUOUSLY GAY DUO..?
jamie: ...IN A CLOWN CAR.
mr. t: THE AMBIGUOUSLY GAY DUO IN A CLOWN CAR..? okay, what else?
jamie: umm... JOHN WAYNE.
mr. t: JOHN WAYNE..?
jamie: ...AND CLINT EASTWOOD.
mr. t: JOHN WAYNE AND CLINT EASTWOOD..? okay, well that's interesting...
jamie: ...AS THE AMBIGUOUSLY GAY DUO.
jamie: ...IN A CLOWN CAR.
mr. t: JOHN WAYNE AND CLINT EASTWOOD AS THE AMBIGUOUSLY GAY DUO IN A CLOWN CAR..? anything else?
jamie: no.
mr. t: okay then, how does that make you feel?
jamie: NAUSEOUS.
mr. t: NAUSEOUS..?
jamie: yes.
mr. t: anything else?
jamie: umm... GAY.
mr. t: NAUSEOUS AND GAY..?
jamie: ...RUGGEDLY GAY.
mr. t: NAUSEOUS AND RUGGEDLY GAY..?
jamie: yes.
mr. T: are we forgetting anything?
jamie: probably.
mr. t: okay, well let's stop there, jamie. this clown car of cowboys... the sense of nauseau, shock, speechlessness, rugged gayness... they can all be explained by three simple words.
jamie: three words..?
mr. t: that's right!
jamie: BAD ACID TRIP?
mr. t: no. well yes, possibly, but no. are you ready..?
jamie: yes, just tell the viewers at home.
mr. t: okay. the three words are...

back to the clues

more traffic, more fancy buildings...

more palm trees, more casinos...

the in-studio manager

"CUT TO COMMERCIAL!! SHIT! CAN ANYONE TELL ME WHY OUR CHOAD IS COVERING A CRACK IN A WINDSHIELD... WHEN THERE'S REAL NEWS GOING ON?! MAKE CHOAD COME... BACK TO THE STUDIO PLEASE. SO I CAN GIVE CHOAD A MOUTHFUL. I'LL WRAP MY HANDS AROUND CHOAD'S LITTLE NECK...AND SHAKE... SOME SENSE INTO CHOAD, IF IT'S THE LAST THING I DO. STUPID FUCKING CHOAD! HMM...?? I BET CHOAD IS GOING TO TRY TO COME... IN THE BACK DOOR... OF THE STUDIO, TO AVOID SEEING ME. I'LL BE SURE TO KEEP THE REAR SHUT NICE AND TIGHT. THAT WAY CHOAD WILL BE FORCED TO COME... ACROSS THE FRONT... OF THE BUILDING, AND INTO MY TINY DARK HOLE... OF AN OFFICE, WHERE I'LL BE WAITING TO FINISH HIM OFF. HA, HA, HA!!"

refer to previous choadage here.

continuing news coverage w/ choad johnson

"I ASSURE YOU WE ARE USING NO CAMERA TRICKS, OR ANYTHING OF THE SORT, TO DECIEVE OUR VIEWERS. THIS APPEARS TO BE THE REAL THING... A GENUINE U.F.O. WE HAVE YET TO HEAR FROM OFFICIALS WHETHER CONTACT HAS BEEN MADE WITH THE SPACECRAFT. IF AND WHEN THAT HAPPENS ACTION 69 WILL BE THE FIRST TO...

OH... HOLD ON...

I'M GETTING WORD FROM THE STUDIO...

WHAT, OH... SAY THAT AGAIN...
IT'S NOT... A UFO?!
IT'S JUST... A CRACK...
IN THE DEATHCAB'S WINDSHIELD?!
WHAT'S...
A DEATHCAB?"

on the scene w/ choad johnson

"GOOD AFTERNOON, I'M CHOAD JOHNSON WITH ACTION 69 NEWS. I'M REPORTING TO YOU LIVE FROM CAESER'S PALACE... WHERE PEOPLE ARE STANDING ON THE ROOFTOP TO GET A GLIPSE OF WHAT APPEARS TO BE A SPACECRAFT IN THE SKY. IT'S BEEN HOVERING OVER THE STRATOSPHERE TOWER FOR THE LAST FEW MINUTES. IT'S STILL THERE RIGHT NOW. LET'S GET A CLOSE-UP FOR OUR VIEWERS AT HOME..."

well, it ain't superman...

"look!! up in the sky!! it's a bird!! it's a plane!! it's... a UFO?!"

on the rooftop of caeser's palace

more palm trees, caesar's palace, some fancy buildings...

hey wait! what are those people doing on the rooftops?!

"hey you, get down from there! but wait until i pass...
i don't want any bodies falling thru the deathcab!"
oh, hold on...
wait, what are they doing?
i think they're pointing to something...

are you my sugar daddy?

well...wherever i am, it sure is hard to tell the pimps from the paupers...

the clues continue to mount

bumper-to-bumper traffic, casinos...

palm trees, the eiffel tower...

one of these things is not like the other

high rise, high rise, pyramid, high rise, high rise, high rise, high rise... hmm???

a post-apocalyptic dream vacation

ah, yes! the wind blowing thru my hair. a mix of asphalt and fresh mountain air... it is so very nice!

border crossing

it's official. i'm in nevada.
but what's in nevada?! where could i possibly be going?!

_continuing transmission

WHAT HAPPENED TO: MY CREATOR AND... DEATHCAB 1992DX 1.0.1?

APPARENTLY... THE CENTER OF A PLANET IS THE SAFEST PLACE TO BE DURING ITS EXPLOSION.

THEY CAMPED FOR 4 DAYS AT THE EARTH'S CORE BEFORE REALIZING SOMETHING... WAS UP. WEARY OF WATCHING THEIR WORLD FALL APART AROUND THEM: MY CREATOR... AND DEATHCAB 1992DX 1.0.1... SET OFF FOR A QUIETER... MORE PEACEFUL DESTINATION: DOWNTOWN MANHATTAN... WHICH WAS FLOATING ON THE NEXT FRAGMENT OVER. THAT IS WHERE I WAS CREATED... TO TAKE OVER PILOTING DUTIES OF: DEATHCAB 1992DX 1.0.1. WE'VE BEEN... ON THE ROAD SINCE. IN FACT... WE'RE ON THE ROAD... RIGHT NOW. MY CREATOR SAYS... "HELLO, EVERYONE!" DEATHCAB 1992DX 1.0.1 SAYS... "WUZZUP! MY BITCHES!"

_ END TRANSMISSION

greetings from the future

_SYSTEMS CHECK...
_NIMROD 9.0.1...
_FUNCTIONAL...
_BEGIN TRANSMISSION...

GREETINGS...

I AM: NIMROD 9.0.1.

WELCOME TO: THE FUTURE.

YEAR: 0001 (WE'VE ROLLED OVER).

A HUMAN FROM YOUR TIME: JAMIE CARROLL... CREATED ME... SHORTLY AFTER YOUR PLANET: EARTH... WAS DESTROYED.

ON HIS 28TH BIRTHDAY... EARTH DAY: 12.29.06... AFTER HAVING PILOTED ROAD MACHINE: DEATHCAB 1992DX 1.0.1 FOR A CONSECUTIVE 470 DAYS... MY CREATOR FINALLY LOST HIS MIND AND DROVE THE VEHICLE INTO THE CENTER OF THE EARTH. UPON IMPACT WITH THE CORE... YOUR PLANET EXPLODED... FIRING FRAGMENTS OF ITSELF THROUGHOUT THE GALAXY.

ONE OF THOSE FRAGMENTS REMAINED FAIRLY WELL INTACT... THUS IT BECAME...

INTERGALACTIC SPACE STATION: HOOVER DAM
COORDINATES: 36°0′56″N, 114°44′16″W

figurine - international space station II

meet gina

there's a bunch of cars parked on the side of the road. what's this? an overlook? i pull over. get out. take a peek. can see the hoover dam from here. looks cool. like a futuristic city. i take a couple pictures...

there's a gift shop nearby. i go inside. find a few cheap & cheezy gifts for some friends. that have since been lost. the gifts, not the friends.

standing at the register now. to pay for my goods. cashier is in back. applying make-up. talking on the phone. taking her time. a long time... not that i mind though. i don't have a tight schedule to adhere to these days.

she eventually comes out. apologizes. rings me up...

she seems pretty cool. easy going. or lazy, whichever you prefer. probably about 30. dressed hip. yet a little trashy. definitely a beer drinker. can see it in her eyes... and waistline. obviously, someone who must have valuable information pertaining to me and my adventures. which equates to - bar, coffee, party, sex, bathroom, shower, bed... and maybe a mechanic. so, i start asking her some questions...

"do you know anything about boulder city (the next town ahead)? i might be spending the nite there..."

"yeah, i live there! there's this really cool bar that i work at called (???). you should check it out. except... i don't work there tonite. so, actually, don't go there."

"okay?"

"wait, what brings you out here?"

"passing thru... travelling the country... living in my car... staying at truckstops and walmarts mostly..." - i've said, written, and you've read this phrase - a million times now. let's come up with an abbreviated code word for it. hmm... first letter of each word spells - PTTTCLIMCSATAWM. that somehow makes me think of potato-climate-sasquatch-man?! that's our new code word! let's continue...

she changes the subject.

"there's some great trails and mountains in boulder city... are you into biking?"

"uh..." i hesitate. thinking of how to answer such a deep and personal question...

(in jamie brain) how shall i answer...? i'm not morally opposed to BIKING, per say. why, just the other day i saw a guy riding his bike on the street... i felt no ill will towards the man. but i haven't owned a bicycle since... 1996?! can that be right? and i haven't really riden one since... well, 1996. except for those 2 minutes in columbia, mo... that was painful. don't think my balls were properly adjusted prior to sitting. so, i guess the answer is YES... and... NO. why don't we try this instead... (out of jamie brain)

"uh... i don't have one (a bike) with me." good answer, good answer...

"well you can rent one. i know some guys who own this bike shop..." shit! it didn't stop her. how about...?

"well, i'm only gonna be here a nite, if that. so..."

"yeah, ok..." yes, i win!

"do you know people in boulder city? do you have a place to stay?"

"nope."

"well, if you want, one of the guys at the bike shop is a good friend of mine. he and some buddies are camping up in the mountains tonite. they're really cool. you should go with them." hmm... that actually sounds really good.

i verbalize my thoughts...

"hmm... that actually sounds really good. it would be a nice change of pace from all the walmarts and truck stops."

"well, why don't i give you my number? if you decide to stay in town, give me a call. we can all meet up. sit around a campfire and drink some beers together?" i knew it! beer drinker!

"yeah, that's sounds great."

we exchange numbers.

"by the way, i'm gina."

"thank you so much gina. i'm jamie. i'll give you a call..."

i leave the store. drive off to hoover dam-nations. dreaming of my new-found drinking buddy.

a five paragraph persuasive essay

hmmm... a ram crossing?! that's a first for me.

you know, it's not until you see one of these animal crossing signs, that you actually start worrying about running into that animal. i've never once thought of crashing into a ram. cars, yes. people, yes. rams... no. but now that i've seen this sign, all i can think of us is this big ol' suicidal ram running into the middle of road for a game of chicken.

they should do everyone a favor and get rid of these signs altogether. we'd drive much safer, much calmer, not knowing. not worrying about whatever deer, or moose, or cow, or... ram?! might leap in front of our car at any minute.

take this for example, i've never worried about running over, or into, a frog. figure, well shit, even if i do, no big deal - it's a frog. but i see a sign like this...

(a road sign in scotland. image from http://www.phouka.com/travel/other/signs/signs.html)

and suddenly i have visions of thousands of frogs on the road. a sea of green. frogs jumping on my windshield. frogs squishing under my tires... everywhere. green. green frogs. green frog parts. green frog guts. then i'm swerving off the road into a grand green canyon of more frogs.

or how about this one...

i'm suddenly terrified that a giant dragging his child to school is going to cross in front of me. i was never worried about that before. but now i can't help but nervously await a giant surprise.

let there be no animal crossing signs. let it be a surprise which animal i hit, or hits me. like reaching into a box of animal crackers. and not knowing which animal's head i'm going to chew off next... which animal's head is the deathcab going to chew off next? oh, let it be a surprise.

consider the deathcab's point of view (photo series)

deathcab's not too happy about delays until... 2008!
gonna take me a long time to get to wherever it is i'm going.

just some pretty views from the road

the twist and turns

as amazing as the grand canyon is, this endless mountain landscape is equally amazing. and fun to drive thru. though i wish my steering and braking abilities were drastically improved. the car wobbles in sharp turns. like the front driver-side wheel is about to fly off. i wouldn't exactly be surprised if it happens.

racing semis

come on baby! you can do it! don't let him get in your head. remember he's just... a semi. an 18 wheeler. he's got the wheels, but you've got the looks. and necessary bad-assitude. you're the mother-fuckin deathcab! and don't you forget it. so go out there and show him whatchya got! get me back on the interstate. pronto!...


oh... wait! wait!

hold on... slow down.

i think part of the car just flew off...

oh... no. wait...

okay. that was just a bird. keep going.

a trainspotting cowinkydink

strange?! that last picture is oddly reminiscent of ewan mcgregor (aka renton) in this scene from trainspotting.

i even took the trainspotting quiz. the results, of which, seem to concur with my hypothesis. my hypothesis... which... umm.. stated... something about... wait, what was my hypothesis again? hold on, what is a hypothesis? i remember it having something to do with science fairs and potato clocks...

a genuine boy with a guilty smile

i sure look like i'm up to no good in this picture. the greasy messed up hair. the maniacal grin. plus the deathcab's skull and switchblades. what could i possibly be i up to? what...?

well kids, why don't you just sit back and relax. get all warm and cozy in front of your monitors. as i share with you...

empty bladder. full on evil.

a love story by jamie carroll

the SUV driver stops his vehicle abruptly in the middle of the road. yells out the window, "hey, what the fuck? i waved at you and you didn't wave back! who do you think you are?" i look over my shoulder. ignoring his threats. still urinating. "can't a guy take a wiz on the side of the road and not be bothered by passers-by," i think to myself.

the driver's door opens. his feet touch the ground. i sense him approaching from behind. "hey, i'm talking to you!" i continue to ignore him. "i'm talking to you, you little shit! where's my fucking wave?!"

he pokes me fiercely between the shoulder blades. the force of which causes my smooth flowing urine to sputter and splash all over my hands and down my pant leg. "oh, it's on now motherfucker!" i zip up. turn around. "you want to interrupt me mid-stream? i'll interrupt your stream - permanently!"

i send a nicely wrapped roundhouse kick to his groin. chuck norris style. but he refuses to quit. keeps fussing. just at a higher pitch now. "wave at me!!" he screeches.

i quickly reach in the back of my car for my now half-frozen jug of piss. i hit him over the head with it. repeatedly. until he loses consciousness.

then i resume what i was doing before i was so rudely interrupted. and relieve myself all over the man's unconscious body crumbled on the ground before me. then i throw his body under the hood of my car. stuff him in nice and tight. and wave a final hello and goodbye. "i love you! bye bye! i'll be flushing you down some random shitter soon enough." i smash the hood down. then latch it shut as best i can.

to commemorate such a joyous occasion, i took this snapshot.

the end.

*though these events may have taken place, it's much more likely that they didn't and this all a bunch of horseshit i just made up. if that's the case, my expression in the picture is not a reflection of any evil thoughts and/or doings but rather a reflection of my sheer and utter joy and relief after having taken the world's longest piss. i can see why there might be some confusion though. we all know i am just a good kid with a goofy smile... who is sometimes mistaken for a serial killer, that's all.

and now a song...

sons and daughters - taste the last girl

putting out a fire

oh, hey guys!! guess you're wondering why i'm stopped on the side of the road? did the deathcab break down again? did i get a flat? did i run over something, or someone? thankfully, no. nothing like that. but where am i you ask?

oh, i'm just hiding out in the bushes. putting out an imaginary brush fire with an everlasting stream of pee. had to go pretty bad. my bladder nearly exploded. tried to relieve myself in a water bottle while still driving. but my weiner and the bottle didn't get along so well. what can i say? not all water-bottles and weiners are meant for each other.

oh, hey SUV! don't mind me. just peeing on the side of the road (willow branch rd, to be exact) in broad daylight. i'd wave but my hands are kind of full right now.

consider the deathcab's point of view (photo series)

westbound on I-40. from flagstaff, az.

leaving flagstaff, az

where to james?

unfortunately, the "a-l-w-a-y-s having a bad day" waitress wasn't working. so i showed my nude photos to denise instead. was able to bring a smile to her face at least.

on the road now. heading west. destination...?? i ain't telling til i get there.

how to bring a smile to a girl's face

decide to head over to cafe espress one last time. want to say goodbye to denise before i leave. and get some breakfast in me.

and... i think i finally figured out how to cheer up that waitress. the one who is - a-l-w-a-y-s having a bad day.

that's right! nothing brings a smile to a girl's face like nude pictures of a stranger (yours truly) at the grand canyon. if this doesn't work, nothing will. let's go!

frost bitten, twice shy

spent the nite at the walmart in flagstaff again. cold as hell. here's the actual temperatures for dec 5th and 6th in flagstaff.

with the morning sun comes the realization that everything i own is frozen. everything! water. yogurt. contacts. soda. piss jug. my loaf of bread is a frozen brick. my banana - an icy popsicle. both my literal, and figurative, banana.

there's a thin layer of ice on the windshield. did i bring an ice scraper? can't remember? if i did it's under layers of frozen shit in the back of my car.

definitely leaving - flagstaff, az
starting mileage - 205573
destination - anywhere i don't have to worry about getting frost bite on my pecker.

an odd coincidence

in flagstaff now. stop off at a grocery store in a strip mall. need to use the potty and get my long johns back on. it's cold here!! i get out of the car. walking towards the store. just before i step inside, someone shouts -

"PUT SOME CLOTHES ON, JAMIE!!"

i quickly turn and look.

what?! who said that?! what the fuck?! who knows about me getting naked at the grand canyon already?! other than the old couple?! who?!

a few storefronts down, a guy is yelling at a scantily clad girl. i presume, his girlfriend. she's wearing a mini-skirt & halter-top. talking on a cell phone. apparently trying to ignore him and his demands.

i don't know what she's thinking either. it's about 14 degrees out here. who am i to argue though? i'm just relieved my own scantily-clad-secret isn't out yet.


though i guess it is now - j.carroll 1/9/2006

outtakes at the grand canyon

goodbye grand canyon

and that, ladies and gentleman, is how you destroy the grand canyon.
now let's get back to flagstaff. i'm cold and hungry.

to summarize

question: why did i get naked at the grand canyon?
answer: "i saw this beautiful picture in front of me, and i wanted to be a part of it."

the most beautiful thing i've ever done

the beautiful offspring of absurdity.

words cannot convey what this picture means to me. it is me. my art. my life. the merging of the two. of all things. the culmination of my absurd existence. this is me as a child. dancing with the world. this is my innocence. my magic. my make-believe... this is so ridiculous, it's beautiful.

bury me with this picture.

[ t. rex - cosmic dancer ]

wait! i'm not done yet

"from the moment absurdity is recognized, it becomes a passion, the most harrowing of all. But whether or not one can live with one's passions, whether or not one can accept their law, which is to burn the heart they simultaneously exhalt - that is the question." - albert camus, the myth of sisyphus

after the picture snaps, i dash back to the camera with my long johns still around my ankles. i look at the shot just taken. holy shit!! that's incredible! okay, one more! just one more!

i untangle myself from my long johns. finally. then set the camera for another 10 seconds.

10...
with jeans in hand, i run out to the ledge once more.
9, 8...
i drop the jeans to the ground. beside my now non-long-johned feet. i spread my arms. and reach for the sun... again.
7, 6...
i look up.
5...
i smile.
4, 3...
and then...
2...
from the cliff above i see two heads moving. looking down.
shit there's people looking at me!! fuck!!
1...
i immediately reach for my pants.

i hop myself into them. then scurry back to my camera and remaining clothes. i sit down. heart racing. short of breath. the cold air in my lungs. i start laughing. i got caught naked at the grand canyon! how fucking hilarious?!

i dress myself quickly. ignoring the long johns altogether. ain't getting back into that mess. i bundle my camera and remaining clothes under arm and trek up the cliffside. reaching the top with a smile. daring not to look at the elderly couple who just recieved an eyeful. i get back in the car. heart still pounding. i'm laughing out loud.

when my hearts slows, i turn on the camera and take a look at the last picture. and see...

and so our boy grows wings and learns to fly...

"dumb as a stump and doomed as hell, but you've got heart." - joe meno, how the hula girl sings

the polyphonic spree - light & day/reach for the sun

i know, this doesn't seem real. it's so absurd. not only this picture but everything leading up to it. how i got to be here. standing bare-assed & buck-naked at the grand canyon. i look like a disproportionate wood nymph in front of a phony CGI backdrop. well, that's me!

"somebody come out here and give me a hug!"

notice the long johns still wrapped around my ankles - my favorite part of the picture. i tried as best i could to get them off, but i was perilously hopping on a perch over the grand canyon. falling in wasn't what i had in mind. though i could never wish for a finer, more suitable death than slipping bare-ass and backwards into the grand canyon with my long johns wrapped around my ankles. one day discovered on the canyon floor - "poor kid, never had a chance... was wearing long johns."

i'm guessing you probably think i'm crazy to have done all this and to now post it online for the world to see. either that, or i've got one helluva pair of ginormous balls (not so evident in this picture). i did, and do, have doubts about this. but i am proud of where i've been and what i've done. proud to have pictures to show for it. and this is a crowning achievement. the pinnacle of the absurdity, of which, is my life.

but, of course, i have thought of the consequences of posting such nude photos of myself online:

1. my mom is going to have multiple heart attacks at once. someone call 911.
2. i will never be elected to public office. nor will my one day future wife. that one stings.
3. this is going to become everyone's desktop background. glad to be of service.

and yes, i guess chippendales did come early this year.



*to explain a certain small thing: approx. temperature at time of filming - 19 degrees farenheit. not to mention the wind chill...

arcade fire - cold wind (blowing)

breaking into the picture

and then it hits me... the barrier. how this is just a pretty picture. my sense of detachment from it all... there's a difference between seeing and feeling. sight and experience. denise was on to something.

"man defines himself by his make-believe as well as by his sincere impulses." - albert camus, the myth of sisyphus

i walk away from the ledge and sit down on the rocks next to my camera. i take off my coat. my shoes. my socks. my shirts. i'm removing the layers, the barriers, that have kept me from feeling. from being. shedding clothes like skin. layer after layer. i unbuckle my pants. and pull them below my knees. the cold wind blows. freezing air travels up my spine. i feel it. it feels like home. my mind empties. i look down at my mostly naked body. then out to the world in front of me. and smile...

okay, let's go!

i set the camera.

10 seconds...
i run out to the ledge. still riggling free from my clothes.
9, 8...
i stumble over a pant leg. fuck!
7, 6...
pants are off!
5, 4...
struggling on the long johns!
3...
the light on the camera flashes quicker and quicker with the approaching exposure.
2...
i give up!

i spread my arms out as far as i can. and smile.

1...

as i break into the picture...

a last look

drive to one last outlook. yaki point? no one is around. it's cold. getting dark. i follow a trail down the side of a cliff. it quickly disappears amongst rocks, shrubbery, broken branches... where am i going? i continue to inch further and further down. reaching a small ledge that overlooks everything. i step out. standing alone at the very tip of the canyon. hovering between the earth and the sky. like a tiny beacon of light... but it still doesn't feel right.

becoming one with the trees

i drive on to a few more outlooks. they're all the same to me at this point. mountains, trees, rocks, depths, skies... just a pretty picture. there has to be something else? something more?

i pull off to the side of the road. not an overlook. but a wooded area. i get out and just start running. running to i don't know where. to whatever lies beyond the trees. whether just another cliff... or something else? i need to find whatever it is. running. over broken branches and rocks. darting between trees. running. but there is no end. i pause. out of breath. i lay my hand on a tree for support. the bark crumbles beneath my weight. i slip slightly. then recover. i look up at the tree. it's body burned. covered in soot. i look at my hand. now, the same - palm dusted black.

what am i doing? why am i here?

i slowly walk back to the car. paying more attention to my blackened hand than the path before my feet. i reach the car without noticing an incident. i pass a cautious wandering glare to the woods i've just exited before i sit down in the driver's seat. i close the door.

what was that all about?

i start to drive off. but something catches my eye. thru the passenger window of the car i see something move. just a few feet from where i exited the woods, a pair of moose (or elk) enter.

on the tippy, tippy, top, top, top of the world

as amazing as the grand canyon is, and likely because of how amazing it is, i feel a huge sense of detachment from it all. though i am here, sitting on its perch, looking at the grand canyon thru my very own eyes; part of me feels i might as well be at home watching it on tv. not that i would rather be doing that. but i think people come here and expect to be moved by the spirit of god, or to feel some great spiritual connection with the universe. much like the lady i met earlier. but i don't feel that. what i feel is a barrier. i feel more detached from the world, my friends, my family - than i've ever felt before. and though this is all so very beautiful and somewhat overwhelming, it's nothing but a pretty picture.

the hangovers - sitting on top of the world

a sun sets at the grand canyon

such great heights

the postal service - such great heights

who's outta sight?

{ rondelles - he's outta sight }

CLUES:

a rebel guy
with a motorscooter jacket
they call him "flynn"
he has a serious gaze
just creepiness

sure sounds like someone i know...

quick question

"hey... guess what i'm doing?"

bathroom portrait series

here i am again. taking pictures of myself in the potty room. this time at the grand canyon. in the bathroom building next to the desert view tower.

for those of you who may have forgotten -
9/16/2005 - RALEIGH, NC (house of zencico)
9/23/2005 - COLUMBIA, MO (townsend hall/mizzou)
9/29/2005 - GRAND FORKS, ND (truck stop)
10/11/2005 - MINNEAPOLIS, MN (house of lindsay)
10/11/2005 - MINNEAPOLIS, MN (walker art center)
10/16/2005 - COLUMBIA, MO (truck stop)
11/17/2005 - KANSAS CITY, MO (tea drops)
11/18/2005 - LAWRENCE, KS (java break)
11/22/2005 - PUEBLO, CO (wireworks coffehouse)
12/02/2005 - SANTA FE, NM (the cowgirl)
12/03/2005 - ALBUQUERQUE, NM (satellite coffee)
more to come...

after compiling all these images i can see why some people (errhmm... becca) might mistake me for a killer. a scholarly-serial-killer of course. i think a lot of it has to do with the mirrors. and yes, well, my appearance.

if i were, in fact, a scholarly-serial-killer i'd listen to something like { mikkel bertelsen - the ticking unbeat of your heart } while chopping you into little bits and stuffing your mangled bloody body parts into all the shitters of all the bathrooms i cross. sorry, i crossed a line, didn't i?

waiting for a neighbor (photo series)

off and out of the desert view tower now at the grand canyon. the "me on a random bench" self-portrait series continues. but under a new name - "waiting for a neighbor."

for those of you who may have forgotten -
9/17/2005 - BARBOURSVILLE, WV (beech state park)
10/11/2005 - MINNEAPOLIS, MN (the walker sculpture garden)
11/19/2005 - EL DORADO, KS (downtown)
11/20/2005 - HUTCHINSON, KS (carey park 1)
11/20/2005 - HUTCHINSON, KS (carey park 2)
more to come...

climbing to the heavens

at the highest outlook of the tower. looking down at everything before me...

a magical pedestal

working my way out of the tower. spiraling down the spiraling staircase. i find a tiny tiny door. a magical door, perhaps? slightly ajar. open just enough for a bright beam of light to shine thru. i turn the knob. feeling like alice opening the midget door to wonderland. peak my head out before taking a step. can see ground, that's good. i step thru. and... walla!!

just some strange pedestal and asian tourists taking snapshots. nothing fancy. no wonderland. no magic. unless it's a magical pedestal! i touch it. nothing happens. no magical life force flows thru me, or anything RPG-like of the sort. maybe if i stand on the pedestal something magical will happen? i think it over. but i'm pretty confident that written somewhere in the magical pedestals section of the dungeonmaster's handbook is - a magical pedestal will not work if surrounded by asian tourists. ah so, i decline. just take some snapshots of it myself. american style.

between the earth and the sky

sufjan stevens - the seer's tower

another fish in the sea

my favorite hieroglyph - a prisoner of happiness

this fish. this cute little fish. floating thru all the world (contained in these tower walls). alone. but happy. i want to be that fish...

the downward spiral

the view from inside the tower. and the writings on the wall.

on the rocks

outside the desert view tower.

a tower to the east

desert view is the eastern-most exit of the grand canyon. there's a few gift shops, a bookstore, a picnic area... the normal stuff you'd expect to see at such an outdoor attraction. plus a gas station. which i'm sure is quite helpful. and this here nifty tower. you can see the colorado river and, of course, the grand canyon from above.

plotting the course

i came in thru the south rim entrance on 64. have been working my way east. but with the sun going down, i figure i'll drive all the way to the east entrance then backtrack to the south entrance again. hitting any overlooks i may have missed on my way out of here.

this map is a little deceiving. approx 25 miles separates the south and east rim entrances. it'd probably take 40 minutes if you were to drive to and fro without stopping.

in like flynn

had to put on my jacket. too cold. which reminds me... this is the look the fat guy in albuquerque,nm liked. collar up. i kind of like it too.

warning - the following is what happens when you stay up writing until 4:52am. after having written all day everyday for the last 2 weeks. you forget what you were writing about. you go off on tangents you really shouldn't go off on. but then again this whole website and trip is me going off on tangents i shouldn't go off on.

for some reason, i remind myself of errol flynn in this picture. or some other dashing swashbuckling type. not that i consider myself at all dashing. a little swashbuckling. but nothing close to in like flynn*. rick (my step-dad) used to watch errol flynn movies all the time when i was growing up. captain blood. the dawn patrol. the master of ballantrae. the adventures of robin hood (best version ever by the way. errol flynn looks so much better in tights than kevin costner. seriously), dodge city, etc. etc... there's more, but what's the point? as a kid, many a night was spent passed out on the living floor with an errol flynn movie in the vcr (and rick passed out in his chair). think that's how flynn... got in... my head. i imagine if i saw one of his movies now, i'd start recalling parts of it as if remembering a dream.

what else can i say about errol flynn?

well, the only other male i was strangely attracted to as a kid was - dirk benedict. aka face from the a-team aka starbuck from battlestar galactica (remember when i watched battlestar galactica at a truck stop in fargo? that ruled!). there's a striking similarity between their appearances of yesteryear. the sleazy moustaches... the ties...i don't know who i liked more growing up? probably dirk, cuz he was and is such a bad actor. i'm a sucker for cornballs. you know how corniness can sometimes be really endearing? how someone who's goofy and nice, can be attractive? yes, i'm talking about me here. i guess you warm up to these people out of a slight sense of pity. i don't mind. but i wonder, if errol and dirk were to have a face-off now, which one would win my heart? which one?

*The phrase "In like Flynn" originated as a coarse reference to Errol Flynn's powers as a seducer. In November, 1942, Flynn was charged with statutory rape, arrested and brought to trial, then acquitted. He was charged with having sexual intercourse with two girls under the age of 18. (He was 33 at the time). It was Flynn's belief that the Los Angeles district attorney had made him a scapegoat for Hollywood in order to discipline the film community. Jerry Giesler (Flynn's ace lawyer) considered Flynn an excellent witness and thought that his "gentlemanly demeanor throughout the trial had been an important factor". A new phrase was added to the English language: "In like Flynn".

a bunny hops in a canyon

denise (from the cafe this morning) recommended a few trails to hike to get an experience, rather than just a view, of the grand canyon. got here a little later than expected though. sun's going down fast. it's getting brrrr... cold. not enough time for hiking. i'll take a couple short bunny hops in the canyon instead.

canyon postcards

pretty amazing, isn't it?

drive on to the next overlook. park the deathcab. hop out. raise my cramped arms high above my head. and... stretch... one... two... yaahh!! bring my arms down. fold them on my chest. walk over and stand at the edge of the grand canyon as if i own it. take in the view. yup... pretty spectacular shit.

a car pulls up. i glance over as the driver stops face to face with the deathcab. hmm... this should be interesting? a heavy set older black woman steps out of the car. looks at me. i smile politely. wonder if she noticed my car? she smiles back... two strangers standing at the edge of the grand canyon. smiling at one another. an undead car just over their shoulders. wanting in on their conversation. wonder if she's catching the absurdity of all this?

after a few moments of silent meditation, the two of us staring off at the canyon, she remarks, "you know..." i turn my attention to her. "anyone who sees this (the canyon)... and STILL... doesn't believe in god, has GOTTA be crazy!"

i cautiously nod. i don't necessarily disagree. but now's probably not the time, or place, for a theological discussion on the existence of god. so, i say what most any person seeing the grand canyon for the first time, and having to describe it to someone, would say,

"uh... yeah... it's pretty amazing."

then we return our attention to the canyon in silence.

beneath the blue skies

looking out upon the most amazing sights. speechless...

HIGH HEELS - BLUE SKIES

deathcab undead

before i left on this trip, my friends placed bets on "where the deathcab would die?" it was actually going to be an interactive part of this website, and may still be. the most popular choice was "on the way to denver." but we've been there. done that. and now we're standing atop the grand fucking canyon! i actually think the deathcab died a long time ago. before i even left for the road. back in north carolina. remember that first declaration of death? and how she died again (in iowa). and again (in minnesota). and again (in north dakota)... i think i'm driving the undead spirit of the deathcab. either that or my car has nine lives... or had nine lives?

let's give a warm round of applause for

THE DEATHCAB!!
(you better be clapping)

deathcab... hold on i'm getting a little misty-eyed here... i... love you. i would've never made it anywhere without you. whenever i needed you, you were there. wait, wait, i'm not finished... you make me whole. you bring the stars and sun into my life. you... complete me.

my oscar speech

i would like to thank everyone who helped make this possible. all of you out there in internet land, who've supported me thru thick and thin. when i didn't think i could go any further, you were there. you were there to show me... a new way. i'd like to thank everyone i've ever met. you know who you are. my friends. my fam. my cat. all the producers. cast and crew. keep up the good work. i'd like to send a shout out to the man upstairs. praise jebus! and the man downstairs. props be to beezlebub! thank you bill. and ted. steve guttenberg. rick james... i'm forgetting someone... someone who's been by my side this whole time... from the very beginning...

THE GRAND CANYON

i know, i can't believe it either. i made it! "ma, look at me. i'm o-kay!!"

are are we there yet?... are we there yet?...

almost...
is everyone ready?
alright, here we go...

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, BOYS AND GIRLS... I PRESENT TO YOU...

the last time you'll see me

the last picture taken before reaching the grand canyon.

and yes, i was driving topless in below freezing weather. had to take my shirt off after the mouthwash incident. can't have my clothes smelling all fresh and minty when i smell like shit, now can i? what would people think?

the heat's on anyway. windows rolled up. pretty toasty with the sun beating down on me too. no need for tops in here.

consider the deathcab's point of view (photo series)

on the road that leads to the grand canyon.

drinking and driving

been having a problem getting things out of my window on this trip. first, the mishap in fargo, nd. and another in boulder, co. now on my way to the grand canyon...

feeling a little unfresh today. in the mouth area mostly. though i'm unfresh in all areas. there's a bottle of mouthwash hiding under the blankets in my back seat. i search for it while keeping one hand on the wheel. one eye on the road. where is that piece of...? oh, there it is... got it! i bring it to the front. take off the cap. pour some of the minty beverage in my mouth. drinking and driving. kids, don't try this at home. i'm a professional. i then proceed to gargle. swish swish... gargle gargle... swish swish... i roll down the window. swerving into the left lane accidently in the process. fluck meelk!! (hard to say "fuck me" with liquid in yr mouth) i'm doing too many things at once. i regain course. okay... okay... i get in firing position. turn my head slightly left. ready... aim... and... fire!!!

fplasch!!! blahck!! plooh!!!

the wind blows all the mouthwash back into my face and hair. all over my chest and arm. the driver's side door covered. i roll up the window i unsuccessfully spit out of. dry myself off with a dirty shirt. then wipe the door down. notice this rather large strand of mouthwash spit still remaining. can't help but laugh. and take a picture. "the deathcab. not only a fine automobile, but also one helluva spitoon."


i actually like this photo a whole lot. one of my favorite landscape shots.

whistle while you work

on the way back to the grand canyon. for the first time.

distant relatives

stop by the university of northern arizona. try to do a couple updates before venturing to the grand canyon. no luck. couldn't find a computer lab. i didn't try very hard. i did find this guy though... a lumberjack!! a possible distant cousin of my alma mater's mascot - yosef (of appalachian state university).

having a bad day?

my morning commute thru downtown flagstaff, az.

stop off at cafe espress for breakfast/brunch. immediately befriend one of the waitresses - denise. sit at the bar and we just start talking. she's really cool. wants to open a coffee shop / restaurant / consignment shop/ art gallery / performance space one day. i think i do too.

while chatting it up with denise i notice one of the other waitresses. looks like she's having a bad day... i've always been attracted to people who are having bad days. or vice versa. emotionally distraught women gravitate towards me. how lucky? i think it's because there's a part of me (or a part of everyone) that wants to be "the one" to brighten their day. maybe they sense that on some subconcious level? maybe not?

the distraught waitress walks behind the bar to the register in front of me. rings up a customer. when that customer leaves, she looks at the bill... "they didn't tip me!!" she exclaims. followed by some other words / noises of displeasure.

"having a bad day?" i ask. while shoveling spoonfuls of soup in my mouth. she looks at me. then slowly... and silently... mouths the word, "a-l-w-a-y-s." then runs in back to the kitchen. denise comes out. walks by. seconds the motion, "don't mind her. she's just having a bad day."

i continue shoveling soup in my mouth. thinking -

i wonder what happened... if anything? what could i do to cheer her up somehow? maybe offer to take her out to dinner? pretty sure i could at least get a smile out of her with my antics... wait?! is asking out someone who is having a bad day, a bad idea?...

probably.

surely, i can come up with something more original than that anyway. keep thinking... i'll figure out something when she comes back out...

i wait. and wait. drinking one cup of coffee too many in the process. yet she never comes out.

the thrill is gone

odd feeling. having your breath be the first thing you see when you wake in the morning. spent the night shivering. snot running down my face...

my contacts are frozen again. 3rd time now. must say, the thrill of it, is gone.

starting mileage - 205352
destination - the grand canyon

drinking with the lords of rings

wandering around downtown flagstaff, az. bump into a few people on the street. ask them for directions to a walmart so i know where i'm sleeping for the nite. wind up inviting me out for drinks instead. these things just happen. can't say no to drinks with strangers. especially this crew...

one guy looks just like viggo mortensen (aka aragon from the lord of the rings). and the other could pass as the dwarf if he had a helmet and axe. it's not everyday i get to share brewskies with the lords of the rings.

we go to charly's pub in the weatherford hotel. a lot of the bars here in flagstaff are in hotels. swanky place. a good bluegrass band is playing. i'm hanging out, drinking some beers with my new found friends - lee (aragon), max (the dwarf), and tina (who could pass as liv tyler if i squint my eyes enough). they're diggers. current (lee and max) and former (tina) members of an archaelogical digging crew. think they all met on an excavation somewhere. digging up the bones of once-fornicating dinosaurs (refer to this then this). interesting people. super friendly.

share a couple drinks before saying goodnight. i need to sleep. tina gives me her digits in case i'm in town a while. and the dwarf invites me out for billiards if i'm around tomorrow afternoon. not likely. got the grand canyon to attend to.

i mosey on over to the walmart for a likely frozen slumber.

a misdirected deathcab

the sun goes down quickly. as does the temperature. low of 4 degrees Farenheit on this nite. starting to get a little concerned i've driven all this way for nothing. don't know that i'll be able to see much of the grand canyon in the black of nite. can hardly see anything as it is. feels like i'm driving along an endless runway that leads just as likely to nowhere as to the grand canyon. the occasional car that passes is headed away rather than towards my destination. think i've got the deathcab going the wrong way.

i pass a mileage marker. grand canyon 32 miles. i'm unpleasantly surprised at my lack of progress. it's been over an hour since i passed thru flagstaff. it's supposedly 76 miles from the canyon. i've only travelled 44 miles? i pass another sign. altitude 8000ft. then another. altitude 8052ft. i'm higher than i've ever been before. in a car. altitude-wise.

a few lights shine in the horizon where this highway, and the next, intersect. the small town of valle, az. there's a gas station at the corner. i pull in. fill up - quickly. not into pumping gas in sub-arctic conditions. go inside. talk to the clerk. "do you know if the roads to the grand canyon are still open (at this time of nite)." "yup. all the roads leading into and out of the canyon are open." he continues, "...which is odd? every other year they'd be closed by now. but we haven't gotten any snow this year."

get back in the car. shivering from the cold. think it over. i don't want to get stuck in the middle of the grand canyon tonite. i'll come back tomorrow when it's hopefully warmer...

pull out into the street. gonna go back to flagstaff for the nite. goodbye grand canyon! for now... i notice someone waving at me. fred flintstone? what are you doing out here?... i don't stick around long enough to find out.

the beginning of beauty (the road to the grand canyon)

white trees.

i'll follow you.

to a place.

i have yet to be.

thru darkening skies.

of impossible dreams.

i'll drive on.

this lonely road.

of beauty.

without you.

MASSIVE ATTACK - YOU'VE NEVER HAD A DREAM

letting your conscience be your guide

i guess you're wondering where i'm going with all this? me too. i never planned on coming here. the grand canyon. never even crossed my mind until i talked to cindy thanksgiving morning while i was still in denver, co.

"hey, i've been meaning to ask you if there's any places you wanted me to check out while on the road?" "mmm?..." she thinks it over... for a millisecond, "grand canyon!" thinking she's being a little ridiculous. "no, no, i'm not going to the grand canyon? i don't think my car would like that very much?" "fine... why did you ask me anyway?" silence. "anywhere else?" "no, that's it..."

i didn't think about our conversation again until a couple days ago in albuquerque,nm. looking at my map. retracing my steps. plotting my future course. maybe, cindy was onto something?... i was chased south, out of colorado, because of the weather. into new mexico. don't want go any further south. i'll move west thru arizona. into flagstaff. you know? the grand canyon is right there. just an hour, or so, north of flagstaff. doesn't seem so ridiculous to go there after all...

and so that's what's brought me here today. on my way to the grand canyon. listening to the wise owl that is cindy. letting my conscience by my guide.

and that's where i was going with all this. i think?

more immortal words from cindy walker

"all i can do is laugh at this point. here's a recap...

THURSDAY-last nite at the apartment that's when i talked to you last.

FRIDAY-last day at work-OFFICIALLY. afterwards stop by apt to get tate (my cat). guy from across the street confronts me about throwing my last bag of trash in his trash can. tries to read my car tag and calls the cops on me as i put-put away unspeedily in 2nd gear. drop off tate at my sister's. spend the nite at scott's. stay up til 6:30am drinkin and talkin.

SATURDAY-wake up after 3.5 hrs of sleep. drive to sis's. spend the day under my car with glenn from 12pm-6:30pm only to have made the brakes worse. worse meaning absolutely no brakes at all now, period. gone. nothing. drive back to boone with sis's mini van instead, which i've dubbed THE MINI. chauffer scott and jess to david's and go out to dinner w/all of them in blowing rock. nice restaurant but i was stressed and exhausted so it wasn't very enjoyable. afterwards, go to david's. hang out with all them. alex and his girl lauren come by. lauren was in law school in new orleans this semester and has lost everything and is now living w/ family in boone. had a really informative and emotional talk with her about all of it. spend the nite again at scott's.

SUNDAY-drive back to this sis's. clean up. bond with tate. scott and jess stop by. invite me back to boone. watch HOUSE of YES. which i love. i think you would like it too if you haven't seen it already. sleep there again.

MONDAY-david drives me out to the mom's. split a couple beers then he goes and i stay the nite at my sister's. uncomfortably. didn't dawn on me that zoie (my niece) goes to bed at 8:30pm. so i have to lock myself in the spare room and be extra quiet.

TODAY-got car towed this morning to auto shop somewhere in jefferson, nc. they can't look at it until tomorrow. so more wait and see shit. get a call from jen asking me to spend the nite at mom's cuz her and glenn are having a quarrel. so moved all of my stuff over to the mom's just now and have finally sat down and relaxed for a little bit.

so from my apt, to scott's, to jen's, now to mom's. been kind of crazy. me tired. still need to organize my shit some more and hope the car gets fixed affordably tomorrow. we'll see. as of right now my road trip has taken me from boone to fleetwood. somehow i was expecting to get further. and no word from the cops yet. no cell service out here...

love,
jamie"
- email sent to cindy 9/6/05

her reply...

"your friends love you. and it shows.
your car hates you.
and it shows.
trip not over yet, bunny."
- cindy walker 9/6/05

the immortal words of cindy walker

it isn't a surprise that cindy sometimes acts as my conscience. she's been telling me what to do for years. subconsciously, or otherwise. yet always in her own unique way...

"hey cin,
i'm really stressed out and tired. wish i had time to unwind. cancelled the phone today. just cell from now on. gotta clean the fuck out of my apt for the show tomorrow and hang a bunch of art. buy some food/drink for it. probably get shitfaced tomorrow nite even though i dont want to. just a way to cope w/ things sometimes. by the way, i was really glad to get to see you again. hope all is clearing up as far as life and boys. though its probably not yet.

i want to leave now... tired of waiting.

jamie"
-email sent to cindy 8/19/05

her reply...

"soon my little snow bunny.
patience is a virtue.
like milkshakes.
says wise owl."
- cindy walker 8/19/05

the voice of my conscience

sometimes my conscience takes on the voice of one of my close friends. a faint friendly dreamlike whisper in my ear. offering signals of advice, clarification, or even confusion. i don't think this is unusual. i imagine it's the same for everyone. whether they are conscious of it, or not, is another story.

having said all that, i was pleasantly surprised to hear cindy's voice in my head shortly before waking on the morning of 9/26/05. was sleeping in the back of my car at the george wyth memorial state park in waterloo, ia. spot #5. remember? she came to me in my sleep. her exact words escape me now, but the overall feeling remains -

this is what you should be doing. so continue... and enjoy.

i find myself thinking of that message again now on my way to the grand canyon.

a prelude of things to come

the outer edge of flagstaff, az. guess i wasn't really thinking, but flagstaff is way up in the mountains of northern arizona. lots of ski resorts. and, of course, the grand canyon nearby. so, yes... it's quite cold here. below freezing in fact. burrrrrr..... why did i leave albuquerque again? i can feel my contacts freezing on my eyeballs. maybe it'll be warmer up at the grand canyon? not likely. but maybe i'll go check it out anyway?

an arizona sunset in your eyes

my eyes actually. the picture's a little too in your face for my tastes. stop looking at me! but my eyes look pretty cool in the sunlight. and my nostrils don't look nearly as crooked as they usually do. guess that's a good thing?

on the way to flagstaff

from the sewers to the craters

still hanging out in the crater. notice i'm getting that cute and fuzzy look again. if i do say so myself. kind of like a small furry woodland creature. reminiscent of my days in the sewers of sioux falls, sd.

greetings from a meteor crater

hey friends!! i decided to stop for gas in meteor crater, az. not in the crater, but in the town of the crater. thought about checking it (the crater) out, but rumor is it costs $$$. just get some gas. snap a few photos in the crater's gas station parking lot before heading off again. try to make it to the flagstaff area before night fall. since, as you can tell by the sign, i can't spend the night in my car here.

funds are drying up quickly in the desert. maybe if enough people make a donation i can go back and play in the crater. get sweet sweet inter-galactic radiation poisioning!! grow webbed feet and gills!! or a 3rd arm so i can drive, talk on a cell phone, and scratch my ass at the same time. hard to do that with a stick shift. donate now, or i'll never realize my dream!!

consider the deathcab's point of view (photo series)

northern arizona.

smoking in the desert

to this point, arizona's been all about dinosaurs and indians. like my toy box when i was 5 yrs old. actually nothing like my toy box when i was 5 yrs old. was more into legos and transformers. but no mountainous desert landscape is complete without... a factory. thought i would have to drive all the way to las vegas, nv before seeing another one. i'm so relieved that's not the case.

teepee for my bunghole

this teepee camp is a little more in line with what i was expecting in arizona. not that i wasn't expecting fornicating dinosaurs. i expect that everywhere i go.

a prehistoric greeting

made it to arizona. or jurassic park? dinosaurs line both sides of the interstate as soon as you cross the border. caught these two making out.

the song-ship travels west

i look out my window. spot a train travelling west. much like myself.

i imagine we're racing. travelling thru my past into my present and future. all that was, is and soon shall be. all the experiences i've had in this short life. the people i've met. the places i've been. all these images pass before me, creating a continuous overlapping collage in my mind. i feel like a child again. like a small boy on that train. looking out the window upon his future self and all the things passing by. thinking - everything is new. the open road lies ahead. filled with things i can't even begin to imagine...


the train eventually passes out of sight. i'm left with the image of a young boy looking out the window of a passing train.



before i left on this trip, scott made me a cd titled, "the song-ship travels... WEST." songs he thought i should have on my journey. travelling parallel to this westbound train reminded me of that cd. and this song... the song of a young boy, or girl, looking out the window of a passing train upon his/her future self.

YANN TIERSEN - GOOD BYE LENIN

halfway to...

lookin a little more awake now. thinking of bringing back the pompadour (refer to halfway to columbia).

driving thru new mexico

beautiful.

consider the deathcab's point of view

a leaving albuquerque, nm. a new photo series begins. all shots taken from the perspective of the deathcab.

birthday plans

just outside albuquerque, nm. oh look... that's where i'll be performing on my birthday!! (refer here)

leaving albuquerque

giddy and tired as hell. got maybe 4 hrs sleep last nite. it's a beautfiul drive though.

saying goodbye

heard becca come home early this morning. after sufficiently removing the cobwebs from our eyes, katie and i head into her sister's room. hang out and talk with her. for the first time without any of us being under the influence of alcohol.

we goof around about last nite's events. how katie must use the "you look just like this bartender i know..." line on all the guys. how becca thought i might be some freak out to kill her sister.

pleasantly surprised how well we all get along. it still amazes me. the three of us talking as if we weren't strangers. as if i weren't about to exit their lives as quickly as i entered.

i had bought a bottle of wine back on thanksgiving in denver, co. when i thought i might run into kate. never had a chance to share it with her, or anyone. figure it'll be a nice gift to katie, becca, and mr. meow. a thank you for everything.

i get a quick shower in. put on some fresh clothes. as fresh as they can be at this point. then run out to the deathcab. grab the wine. go back inside the girls' apt one last time. present the wine. katie, of course, accepts. sunday nite is wine nite. give her a hug goodbye. "maybe i'll see you again?" tell becca, "i'll kill your sister next time."

starting mileage - 204904
destination - westbound

conversations in bed

staring out katie's bedroom window. incredible view. we lay in bed. talk. share silly stories. jokes. the ones andres told me in colorado springs, co (refer to wooglin's crew). "what do bricks and fat woman have in common? they've both been laid by mexicans." she laughs though she is mexican herself. cool enough to know it's just a joke. shares one of her own, "why do white people go to black people's yard sales? to get their shit back."

she asks me my sign. "capricorn." "my last boyfriend was a capricorn." "what's your sign?" "scorpio." "an evil ex of mine (leah) is a scorpio too." "yeah scorpios are generally evil and sexual and... i'm not as evil as most though." "good to know."

i ask her to guess my birthday. "...i'll give you a hint. it's the same day chippendales will be back at the route 66 casino." she's unfamiliar with my reference. i explain. she guesses correctly on her 3rd try after a few more less-specific hints.

to katie

good morning katie and mr. meow,

hope all is well in albuquerque, nm. i think about you a lot and wonder what you're up to. what are you up to? if i wasn't so far away, i'd come back and gladly get frisked for another burrito with you. maybe one day? tell your sister i said hello. she's not so bad when she's not inebriated. i'm glad we were all able to talk before i left. i'm definitely grateful to have met you two. thanx for letting this stranger into your life, and home, for an evening.

best wishes and much love,
jamie (12-19-05)

and by the way... liberace is spelled with a 'b' not a 'v'. trust me on this. i'll show you later.



a song for katie...
REGINA SPEKTOR - US