12-31-99 6:05 PM F New Year's Eve
The millennium is going out weeping. An inexplicable rain has been falling all day, in torrents at times. Just before sundown, we heard a series of explosions, and the power went out. Y2K? Terrorism? The Rapture? A copter circled overhead. The sky glowed eerily. The neighbors came out to the street. It was spooky.
"I can't believe you killed the Cookie Monster to make a jacket."
1-2-00 11:09 AM Su
Gringo Pass, Arizona
New Year's Eve was mostly uneventful. We went to a party where everybody was on X. It was so-so. We danced and drank. My brother and sisters were with me. Getoff's party was dead, so he and Astarte came up. I was pretty drunk. Rochelle drove home. Everyone else spent the night. In the morning, Rochelle and I picked up the rental. We ate at Denny's by the airport. I took a nap back at the house, and then we loaded up the car and left about two in the afternoon. By three o' clock, I had gotten my first speeding ticket of the day. Ninety in a sixty-five, claimed the cock-hole, son-of-a- bitch, piece-of-shit, no-good-to-anybody highway patrolman.. I was just lucky he didn't run my license and find out it's suspended or he might have hauled me off to jail. We continued on our merry way. We drove I-8 east of San Diego through a twilight, otherworldly landscape. Rochelle said the terrain of boulders looked like biscotti dough. We stopped at some little rural outpost called Live Oak Springs and got gas and beer. Then we continued on our merry way. Soon, I got my second speeding ticket of the day. I asked for a warning, and the prick told me that asking was a misdemeanor. I was doing eighty in a seventy. Rochelle drove. Boy, was I bitter. We had been listening to the Rose Bowl and having fun. Rochelle took Wisconsin and I took Stanford. "Your guy just sacked my guy," I would say, and she would clap and cheer. But then "Mr.-I-want-a-job-where-I-fuck-people-over" had to spoil everything. We crossed into Arizona about eight thirty PST and moved our watches up an hour. We turned on to Route 85 at Gila Bend and drove down to Ajo under screaming stars. Rochelle got pulled over in Ajo. They made us sit a while but let us off with a warning. The Sheriff was actually very nice. He gave us advice about hotels and said he didn't want to give us a third ticket. We stayed at the Marine Hotel. A beautiful, clear-eyed blond gave us our key. We saw a place called The Hut with a bunch of cars out front. We walked there through the chill. It was mostly Mexicans dancing cumbias. Rochelle and I drank beer and shot pool and said we would get married in New Orleans.
We drove through Organ Pipe National Monument just now and are sitting at the counter in a diner in Gringo Pass with Kahluas and coffees, heads full of saguaro, hair combed like cholla. Guess we'll try for Carlsbad.
The millennium is going out weeping. An inexplicable rain has been falling all day, in torrents at times. Just before sundown, we heard a series of explosions, and the power went out. Y2K? Terrorism? The Rapture? A copter circled overhead. The sky glowed eerily. The neighbors came out to the street. It was spooky.
"I can't believe you killed the Cookie Monster to make a jacket."
1-2-00 11:09 AM Su
Gringo Pass, Arizona
New Year's Eve was mostly uneventful. We went to a party where everybody was on X. It was so-so. We danced and drank. My brother and sisters were with me. Getoff's party was dead, so he and Astarte came up. I was pretty drunk. Rochelle drove home. Everyone else spent the night. In the morning, Rochelle and I picked up the rental. We ate at Denny's by the airport. I took a nap back at the house, and then we loaded up the car and left about two in the afternoon. By three o' clock, I had gotten my first speeding ticket of the day. Ninety in a sixty-five, claimed the cock-hole, son-of-a- bitch, piece-of-shit, no-good-to-anybody highway patrolman.. I was just lucky he didn't run my license and find out it's suspended or he might have hauled me off to jail. We continued on our merry way. We drove I-8 east of San Diego through a twilight, otherworldly landscape. Rochelle said the terrain of boulders looked like biscotti dough. We stopped at some little rural outpost called Live Oak Springs and got gas and beer. Then we continued on our merry way. Soon, I got my second speeding ticket of the day. I asked for a warning, and the prick told me that asking was a misdemeanor. I was doing eighty in a seventy. Rochelle drove. Boy, was I bitter. We had been listening to the Rose Bowl and having fun. Rochelle took Wisconsin and I took Stanford. "Your guy just sacked my guy," I would say, and she would clap and cheer. But then "Mr.-I-want-a-job-where-I-fuck-people-over" had to spoil everything. We crossed into Arizona about eight thirty PST and moved our watches up an hour. We turned on to Route 85 at Gila Bend and drove down to Ajo under screaming stars. Rochelle got pulled over in Ajo. They made us sit a while but let us off with a warning. The Sheriff was actually very nice. He gave us advice about hotels and said he didn't want to give us a third ticket. We stayed at the Marine Hotel. A beautiful, clear-eyed blond gave us our key. We saw a place called The Hut with a bunch of cars out front. We walked there through the chill. It was mostly Mexicans dancing cumbias. Rochelle and I drank beer and shot pool and said we would get married in New Orleans.
We drove through Organ Pipe National Monument just now and are sitting at the counter in a diner in Gringo Pass with Kahluas and coffees, heads full of saguaro, hair combed like cholla. Guess we'll try for Carlsbad.
posted by johnz at 10:23 AM
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