Having started things off right on Interstate 90 out of Boston, with U2’s “Beautiful Day,” and having listened to “The Fellowship of the Ring”, as read by Rob Ingles over 16 Cds (yes, I only made it through the first book…what?!…a guy’s gotta have some time for silence and some time for listening to great songs from yesteryear), and having paid $32.15 in highway tolls (particularly in New York and Indiana…[you states are pretty tricky, huh?…whatamigonnado?…drive around New York state?…]) and having logged over 3,150 miles (including a jaunt from Chicago to Bloomington to pick up my little brother and watch him kick booty in Scholastic Bowl [which is like Team Jeopardy, but for smart people] and then a drive back to Chicago for fun and a visit to a visiting friend, then back to Bloomington then on to St. Louis), having visited my dad and family in Kansas City, having spent only $17.23 on Red Bull and coffee, having promised with my debit card to pay $318.24 to various gas stations across the country, having negotiated snow in Indiana, rain and sleet in Illinois and Missouri, flatlands and boredom in Kansas and Oklahoma (sorry, Kansans and Oklahomanomians), powerful winds in New Mexico (I somehow avoided being spellbound in the so-called “Land of Enchantment,” though it was more beautiful than I remember it) and having somehow avoided any car crashes or mishaps while irresponsibly taking pictures of every state’s Welcome-To sign (this is not a good idea, for it involves caring more about road signs than about the semi-trucks that approach quickly in your rear-view mirror), while stopping often to pee and to buy toffee peanuts, I sailed into Tucson, Arizona at 2:00pm on the 6th day, in time for soundcheck and a spot at City Limits opening for Ringside (with Balthazar Getty from TV’S “Alias,” and Weezer’s Brian Bell), before eating a caeser salad and some strawberry waffle, drinking some water, talking with some friends, and going home to my older brother’s house for sleepytime.
Hampton Inn and Tammy
John Paul Jackson
And the disgusting bathroom at the Sunoco (or is it Citgo?) on Cicero Ave. near Midway Airport in Chicago. (I was going to make it the only item in a nothanks list, but if I don’t give it love, it will only feel bad about itself, and will never gather the strength to change itself into a topoftheline restroom facility).
I’ve posted a collection of pictures that are boring to most people besides me at:
CAMERON’S BIG ADVENTURE
Now I’m in Tucson, and I don’t know what to do. I’m tired of leaving. I was born in this town, but it doesn’t feel like home to me. Yet.
A million I love you’s to any and all who read our journals and who listen to our music and who write song quotes on their notebooks or put links on their pages or who pray for us or who speak kind words about us at right times.
And God, thank you, from my heart, for safe passage and plenty to eat. I wish I knew you better.