This weekend I inexplicably had four days off, all in a row.
So naturally I downloaded 100 new songs, gassed up the Biscuit and drove to
Missoula. Something strange happens to me when I’m alone for too long, and 10
hours definitely qualifies as too long. I started talking to myself, and I’m
pretty sure I hallucinated driving through several tunnels. I consumed one
coffee, two Rockstars and an entire can of Pringles. I have never been in so
much pain as when I had all that grease and caffeine rolling around in my
stomach. I literally considered going somewhere to have my stomach pumped when I
started to feel like the unfortunate host of an evil alien spawn clawing its
way out of my body. But I made it! Now I’m sitting at The Break, sipping an americano
and attempting to catch you guys up on my recent comings and goings.
First of all, did I tell you guys I got a job? Because I got
a job. I’m now a fulltime receptionist for a local veterinary hospital. This means
I get to spend 8 hours a day, 5 days a week in close proximity to at least one
other human being. When we’re busy things aren’t so bad, but trying to sustain
conversation for that long is definitely not my strong suit. The people I work
with are really fascinating though. Legitimately, there should be some sort of
behind-the-scenes dramatic reality show. I’ve only glimpsed the surface
tensions, but I’ma wager there’s a lot of hidden turmoil and I can’t wait to be
fully exposed to it.
Also, Lo came and visited me. This pretty effectively sums up the week. Unfortunately, her trip coincided with my
first full work week. I’m afraid I was a terrible host, mostly because I was
either asleep or talking about how much I wanted to sleep 90% of the time she
was here. However, we did discover The Delta, a restaurant which specializes in
Southern and Cajun comfort food. At The Delta you can order a 40 oz. PBR and
they serve it to you in a bucket of ice, like fucking champagne. What could be
more comforting than that? Friend and Lo also found a gem called the Yamhill
Pub. They have a sticker toilet, and the entire building
smells like stale piss. Their bar food is all microwavable, including the lasagna.
[Note: this information
courtesy of Lo and Friend, since I was still at work…]
Lo: Can I get some mini corndogs?
Sullen Bartender: Yeah, but it’ll take a minute. I have to
warm up the oven.
*Then they
watched him pop a plate of mini corndogs into the microwave….
Lo, I know your visit wasn’t exactly what either of us
expected, but I don’t regret a single minute. Take care of yourself, kitten.
My trip home was entirely fortuitous luck. Despite the fact
that it snowed all week, I woke up Thursday morning to blue skies and sunshine.
The office was unnaturally slow so my co-workers didn't have a problem letting
me leave early. Even the traffic cooperated with me. Travelling is still a
strange concept to me. The Biscuit is the first reliable car I've ever owned,
and the idea that I can drive anywhere, leave everything in a different time
zone, is still novel. There’s something thrilling about touching the ground in
four different states in one day.
I was shocked to see
the mistakes of each generation will just fade like a radio station when you
drive, you’ve just gotta drive, out of range…
There are at least a hundred complicated and conflicting
reasons for me to be in Missoula this weekend, but primarily I’m here for E. I
didn’t tell her I was coming. I showed up on her doorstep at 2:30 in the
morning. I swear to god, the look on her face when I opened the front door was
enough to stop your heart. It was beautiful and pure and fleeting.
Nobody deserves a funeral birthday party. I hope me being
here has made things a little bit easier. Happy birthday, honey.
There’s something unsettling about coming back to a place
that used to be home. I’ve caught myself aching lonely for Portland already. I
miss the green and the daffodils and the rain. I miss my noisy heater, and my
roommates, and our house with the red walls. I wonder when things shifted, when
my new city became home. It was all as natural as taking a deep breath.
And everything is
easier than I had guessed that everything would be, even remembering the way
who looked at whom first, anyhow dancing.
Last night I had dinner and drinks with E, The Velvet Fog
(TVF) and J-Bot. I laughed until my stomach ached and my cheeks were sore.
There’s so much history, we’ve shared so many drinks, stories and cigarettes. We’ve
laughed/danced/cried together, discussed pasts and futures, politics and religion,
dreams and nightmares. Sorry this all sounds so cliché, but you are my
very dearest friends, and I wouldn’t be who I am without our shared history.
Also, we experienced this together. On the couch, eyes closed, holding hands together. I wept like a
child.
So here I am, in a town that doesn’t feel like home, with
friends who feel like family and a chest that feels like it’s full of rocks and
broken glass. In two days I’ll get back in the Biscuit and leave this town. I’ll
keep my hands on the wheel, my eyes on the road, my thoughts in my head and marbles
in my throat.
Lucy, thank you for your moment of weakness.
-b
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