The Story Of My Fucking Life

One-twenty-four: Tour Diary volume nine

Posted by ilbebe on June 8, 2012

Friday, January 12, 2001. Awake at 9:15, eat remains of pasta, hit the road at 10:15. Stop at Safeway on our way out of town for my daily French bread, we are informed that it’s the only Safeway without a bakery. White bread it is. On the road out of WA by 10:30.

Stop at the amazing GeeCee’s truck stop again, I purchase the reflective nut cover I’d foolishly passed on the first visit. [lug nut cover, that is] G discovers that they sell fried, battered chicken gizzards. Later we stop at a rest stop that has free coffee provided by a Lutheran Sisterhood. R and I make a donation in Canadian money, mwah-ah-ah. We make up an absurd number of variations on “sidewheeler” while listening to TASOH ad nauseam, without the nauseum.  [I guess what I mean here is that we somehow could not get sick of this thirty-minute tape. Lifesaver does not begin to describe.]

Eugene at 2:45, we stop at Kinko’s so G can check email. The D Blues sticker we placed on a lightpost earlier in the week is doing well. Over to Emily’s for a tad, we listen to our CD. [I think R was trying to show off for Emily. Just a guess.] Within a half-hour of us showing up, both Emily’s Dad and her roommate’s Dad show up to visit. As a rock band, we decide there are too many parental authority figures in the room and blow town around 4.

I speculate what a Family Circus-esque map of our voyage would look like. Ryan speeds like nobody’s biz. The tamboura on my/G’s alternating laps begins to disappear from consciousness, having become such a fixture. [Oh right, the tamboura. Yeah, whoever had shotgun had to put this huge stupid thing on his lap which made it almost impossible to turn one’s head without getting an eyeful of one of the tamboura’s bazillion tuning pegs. Made that day’s drive EXTRA special.]

Grant’s Pass at 5:45, Crescent City at 8:15 after a race with our Oregonian arch-nemesis all the way down 199. [Our arch-nemesis was a small pick-up with Oregon plates that passed us slightly outside of Grant’s Pass and invoked R’s ire. We then raced with him practically the entire hundred miles of 199, through the driving rain and occasional fog and the numerous twists and turns of 199. Stupid, but we made good time and lived to tell about it.] Silence reigns during the stretch from CC down 101. Oregon shore turn-off? Put in TASOH for victory lap around Orick, tape ends as we pull up to stop sign at Alliance and Foster [in Arcata]. We hit 2,000 miles for voyage shortly before Trinidad. Drop Garrett off, then me. Inaugural D Blues “tour” comes to an end at 9:45.

Final analysis:

Miles traveled: 2,000+

$ spent (me): 135 [holy shit, that’s all I spent? I forgot just how cheap I was back in the day…]

T-shirts and CDs sold: 0

Trips to Beaverton: 0 [Beaverton is a suburb of Portland. We decided a “trip to Beaverton” was adequate slang for getting some action. The zero here represents how R, G, and I were all talk, no rock in this department.]

Shows played: 3

Shows aborted: 3

Variations of “sidewheeler” proposed: numerous

Indians/babies murdered: 0 [hahaha, I spent a lot of time “joking” about murdering K2. No one appreciated this. Dunno why I mentioned Indian killing…]

Foreign countries impressed with: 0

Marriages performed: 1

Original members of Alvin George met: 3 [That would be Tig, Chuck, and…I don’t remember who else falls into this category. Thoren and Nathan were friends from Arcata, and besides, Thoren was and still is a figment of my imagination, since we never even saw the dude.]

Crippled Canadians: 3

Strange bathrooms encountered: also numerous

Really nice people in Mt. Vernon: at least 2

Number of people who like K2: 0 [“No one likes K2!” was a running joke that even her parents shared in, which is what pissed me off about not being able to joke about suffocating her, drowning her, chopping her up, nothing. Not even SIDS.]

“Dave Mustaine”s performed: 0, surprisingly

“Quimby”s peformed: decline to state

“IHOP and life to go”


[This is the end of the diary. If I didn’t explain it before, “quimby” was a term we picked up from Tig in Eugene. It’s what you call to call the middle-backseat when approaching a car, and is based on the term for the guy in the middle in 3-person gay sex. I’ll leave it on that.]


4 Responses to “One-twenty-four: Tour Diary volume nine”

  1. Emily was in Alvin George. That’s the third one?

    This is excellent by the way. I have the ‘My Trip’ book somewhere, I’ll dig it out and find my notes.

    • ilbebe said

      Ah, Emily! Thanks, I doubt I ever would have remembered that.

      I would LOVE to see your notes from the trip, please drop everything and type them up immediately.

  2. I found the ‘My Trip’ book. It only has one page from the actual tour, and it’s dated 1/11/00 but I guess it was 01 and I was still writing the old year?
    I’ll post the entire contents below:

    PAGE 1

    Date: 1/11/00
    Place: The White Spot
    Weather: Border Patrol Blue

    Sitting lotus position bum posture loitering
    when comes by white hair, opens
    to enter. Stops as if to
    almost mention something, for
    instance, where he has buried
    my American Dream in his
    satin and –
    inside, butterscotch martini’s
    too extravagant, breakfast of

    *napkins on laps
    *can’t drive in parking lots
    *poems for the President

    What does the early worm get?

    PAGE 2

    cell is imagination -> thoughts before
    thoughts, rolodex building
    blocks, subconscious
    clothes hungout to
    dry, traffic trying
    to build “thought” to
    be possibly selected
    for use, or to either
    be deleted.

    [PAGE 2/3 are drawings with some callouts that wouldn’t make sense]

    PAGE 4


    Some held by other
    type of magnet
    (oil and water pick non-soluble)
    liquid fat with water
    phospho lipid bilayer
    origin of life
    origin of thought
    e.e. cumming’s parentheses
    describe seeing a thought as mass produced
    level of creation,
    lego set built on polaroids

    KNOW Metrodome can be well advertised.

    Magnets: amino acid building blocks
    Electricity, etc (material world, gravel)
    Inside: soul (inner magnet)
    god (“)
    Atman Brahman -> union
    created body outisde

    *Not saying this to be enlightened (use this in
    a court of law (jake/josh) – document that proves union

    or maybe no inner soul
    just god inside mixing,
    soul is one color building block
    magnet inside

    mixed with magnet material world
    mixture of soul/material outside
    god as liquid magnet

    union with the divine
    inversion of raquetball
    in on itself to consume
    into nothing-burst
    like a water bubble in swimming
    pool shallow end trunks
    full of air bursts
    at surface lotus

    Perpendicular japanese characters. Cursive landon.
    Emphasis of metrodome for landon.

    [if it’s not abundantly clear, I wrote this stuff the first time I got REALLY HIGH]

    PAGE 5

    Poetry is leaving booby traps for waking mind
    to see state of surreal world.
    Poetry is war.

    Metro.home: art piece/tory
    with religious implications
    written about manifesto as
    advertisement. exploit. my.own.religion.
    to make a dollar.
    Funny now.
    First revelation, my religion exploits my religion
    to show that exploitation of religion can
    be a religion (absurd generation)
    toy = wwjd bracelet
    like love the ability to laugh at self
    never held the metro.gnome

    PAGE 6

    Through detonation => an epiphany
    during the night? Moonshine? Partly lunar?
    Sunny = moony?

    It’s very sunny out?
    “” “” moony out?

    No. But this is my level. What’s incorrect,
    tossed aside grammar
    destruction of thought
    is creation of new thoughts to take place
    Wyclef singing my poem

    Darla Me***, seal on clarinet,
    light surrounding eyes
    like beast master eagle
    little girl never grew up
    never loved (by me, by anyone) [Darla was a girl who died in 8th grade]

    PAGE 7

    I chose this thought to arise? No.
    No free will. Thoughts random, dictated
    by flow of God magnet designating change
    in realm of time (slow, by our awareness)

    Three cookie monsters
    white sunglasses
    on an olympic stamp

    The words, “Words cannot describe”
    cannot describe what words cannot

    PAGE 8

    The girls you love are the pink dress kaitlin fickle
    god beyond gods that hold
    the metronome in the palm of their hands
    twinkle like cartoon teeth smile
    – british voices talking, laughing, clapping in a theatre

    Magic carpet + elephants with buddhas’ on back
    Kate as 1940’s woman white dress
    umbrella in a submarine

    double entendre: cover of this book [My Trip]

    New bag of groceries from car at night.


    Dream. As if on tour to North again; stayed in Mexican/japanese
    tenant house and practiced free jam as old people shared bed
    willy wonka style. Frustrated with landon who considered our playing
    ‘boring’ because he could not wank. [HAHHAHAHAHHA] Felt uncontrolled
    irrational anger but he remains stoic, unphased – I liked free jam because I
    could pick what I wanted to play on guitar and out came what was in my head.

    Ryan bought us 58oz of beer and so party Portland. Someone gives landon meal worms
    to eat, which he does nonchalantly. What is strange is I can imagine what is
    in his mouth and feel their wriggling, bitter taste. I try with all my might to chew
    (because now meal worms are actually in my mouth, I’ve managed to manifest them).
    Chew, then get sick, so barf all over front lawn neon and grey cakes of misery
    and movement. Seeing them continue to writhe makes me sicker.

    Image of Robin Williams as frog prince strong here.

    Wash away my barf with hose even though raining in Portland. Three men in
    drag walk by and look at me in disgust.

    Tom tells me that Diana has committed “violence in the community”
    so we walk to Burger King (seems like a fair). He’s up ahead of me,
    goes second story. I want to get food but no money (realistic).
    Later see Casey Gallagher standing in line, wave only he is bum rushed
    by Arcata petitioners who want to sit on the plaza.

    Earlier this week had a dream where I was dressed up as a reindeer in the back
    of a car trying to get through customs.

    Also, another dream that I’m in a band called the “Ecclesiastes Kittens” – a pop
    band with keyboards. I ended up in a place buying videogames and there
    are bongo drums playing outside. Lily gets angry about it and yells: “Hey, anyone
    want to go to Kill Rock Starssss” and the drummers all stop as if “bummer dude….”.
    Start laughing and wake up.


    The next entry is Sept 10, 2001 after I stayed the night at Kate W’s house

    5:55 a.m.
    freeway becomes silent
    kate, one arm loosely over stomach clutching
    blanket to side, other arm over chest
    as if shocked
    heart beats

    husband first headed downstairs flipping on light switches –
    baseball bat in other – and woman, following,
    afraid, keeping loosely together,

    Sept 12th, 2001



    • ilbebe said

      Ohhhh man, thank you so much for typing this up. So much more illumination of that brief time in our lives which was so goddamn formative…So much to say about the poetry, damn I miss yr writing from that time. Remember when I wrote you a birthday tribute in your style? I must have kept that somewhere…

      Also, I must say that “I want to get food but no money (realistic)” from one of the post-tour dreams is a poem unto itself.

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