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Author: Detritus Added: 13-08-07 Reads: 485 Comments: 1 On 0 short lists |
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Itinerary
Amarillo. Flat plain of prairie dawn, summer morning. Cool air against the rushes, a field full of grass. Drove to Tahoka, will make stop in Lubbock soon. Hope everything with you all is okay. Got your letter as I was coming back from the hotel in Albuquerque. Will write later.
Avril. 14th, offset substation of water draw. Drove to Old Ruin near the border. There is no circuit here, you have to take the 67 Road back into town for them to give you what you need. Beans and coffee this morning. Stopped by some taco stand by the side of the road, near Brady, half past noon when I made it into Big Rock (Big Spring). So sorry about last night. All of my love to you and the kids back home.
Dallas, Fort Worth. Too cool a morning for all you professional types. Suburbia gleams in its pretentiousness. Dad gave me keys to the pickup this morning. One little dot on the yellowed page of a phone book at a gas station outside of town. Coffee. Rodeo tomorrow. Wichita Falls, and the endlessness of fields and farms. Clean, manured air. Pink-skinned men in flannel shirts and shit kicker boots at supermarket today. Must be comin' in from harvest-time already.
Parallel, new station on the side of nowhere. Pancakes. Got your letter just as we saw some of your folks in the other county. Poor soul, your grandma. What a shame it was to hear that your relatives would fight so viciously over her things like that. What a lovely day. Driving clear to El Paso, if we can beat the night. Planning to visit you in Presidio for the evening. Will write back as soon as possible.
City of Sleep. Book of Dreams. Overhead broad pale moon in cold desert night. Killed a rattler on the side of the road changing a tire. Scared me out of my mind. Another endless day, another long shadowed, broad shouldered afternoon. Long shadows after sunset. Skyline looking south. Not sure what to think, much less do. Pickup doing okay. Not sure of where to go, either. Wish you were here.
No caress, no love so good as yours. Was good to feel your big strong arms in mine again, to let you look long in my eyes all evening. Never let me go. Can't drive back to Amarillo now. It can't be helped.
An empty basin. Midland. Not much to talk about here, only that we met Isaac again, had dinner with him in the same kitchen we had dinner two years ago. Talked about the good times. Took off his shirt and showed me the scar he got in Iraq. Slept on the same couch I slept on two years ago.
Here 'tis. Northern Hospital, where they had the terrible tornado.
Brush and fog. Lovington lies ahead, then back through Clovis, and down to Shafter, and then to you. Another long night passed now. Coffee this morning in the Holiday Inn by the side of the road. Ahead lies the mountains. Not sure why things are the way they are between us. Keep wondering where all the cars keep on going to from here.
Isaac called again last night, hungry for me and Dairy Queen. Told him either he goes or I come to him. Watched local neighborhood football game out in cool weather. That time of year again. No drain, no hay comida is all I hear. It rained tonight. It came in like so many things out here—all of a sudden, with a lot of wind and very little output. Hotel again. We attended a wedding this afternoon in Alpine, and are overstuffed from dinner to say the least.
Mitchell Flat, Wyoming. I stopped off at a little diner outside of Cheyenne. I've got a rodeo they want me at in a couple of days and so I thought I'd visit grandmother for about a week before heading back to Durango for the summer roundup. I got this book here that a pastor on the bus gave me a couple of miles back in Denver, I could send it to you if you want, if you're willing. I was thinking of getting a few beers for the boys and maybe building a bonfire out on the ranch. What do you say?
This is the mountain behind our house in Guadalupe Pass, where we've been living here for the last couple of months. Every evening the sun drops over it and it looks so gorgeous in the dusk--
Her mother lives on the side of the road, somewhere outside of Desert Center. California. I just dropped off a letter to you, and lo and behold, here you are again. Honestly I'm not sure what to think about your new cousin's husband. If you and him get along together, I don't think there should be a problem in arranging a family reunion at the dance hall down south. This is our house in Twenty-nine Palms, where we've been living for the last couple of years now. The summer is hot but bearable. Will be coming to see you soon, God willing. I think when the next paycheck comes we'll be all set. I wonder if you got our last postcard.
You need to get back on the main road if you want the ranch. There was a three-hour wait for the bus in Fort Stockton, in the middle of town. The ranch hand gave me a shotgun and told me to fire up at the farthest tree I could fathom. I don't speak a word of Spanish. I killed a coyote last night, in the cold, pouring rain. Hope you are both feeling better.
The truck broke down at the hotel near Fort Stockton. That road is awful. Drove over to the divide, and had to pay a mechanic. No winter clothes, a sudden cold snap this evening. Full of wind and cold. Morning. Cold and clear. We had little luck in Fort Stockton with the pickup. I had to miss some calls, but I guess things will be okay. Very little traffic, but lots of space. A six and a half hour wait. Terminal A. Not fair. No letters yet. I wondered around window-shopping.
Chamiso flowers in the mountains. We were about to go to Socorro and passed through Magdalena when we saw a restaurant on the side of the road that served good breakfast. A good steak. No snow here. They took us by bus to a huge field. I am told that this is Trinity. No pictures, please. They say the place gives off some radiation even now. There is nothing here that is green. Tucumcari. Acoma culture. We had the usual tour, before stopping off at Chapelton to buy some turquoise jewelery. I'm sure the children will be looking forward to seeing you at the party. The sun came out again.
Midland again. This is where Isaac's place was, just before he went to Okinawa. Now his father lives there and we have nothing to do. Good to hear that your sister got that promotion to store manager, it seemed like she was stuck forever in that job back home. How is your mother? My body craves you. I slept in the pickup truck last night and in that uncomfortable darkness all I wanted to feel is our bed together in Presidio, and you with me. No coffee this morning. I had to stop in at a still little café by the side of the highway that served nothing but day-old bagels and chorizo and eggs.
Ghost town. Old Dodge by the river. In July they have a western reenactment day where every one comes dressed up like cowboys and they have a mock shootout in the dusty lane where Main Street used to be. This tree is where they used to hang people. Last night we sat on the veranda in the hot evening. Armies of stock on the hillsides. It is almost--
Mountains in dusk. It's somewhere in the middle of nowhere. There was one last gasp on the side of the highway. We spent two hours today in town shopping, after a somewhat tasteless but unusually satisfying meal. These are the cirrus clouds overhead I told you about. See how they linger there over the mountains? Midland is so far away now I can't even think about what was on the corner of our old street. Summer. From here, you can see over the lake (elev. 6,234 ft.). There are two mountains in the back that are somehow inaccessible from the lower pass, but we made it up without anyone noticing.
Dim, fuzzy light from televisions at the hotel. Coffee this morning. It was a beautiful sunrise. Good to be back again. I slept at Isaac's house last night. Told war stories all night, over beers.
This is a field in Midland where he showed me where he used to bale hay.
Blue sky, the open field. The skyline.
I remember that night at Travis' place in Abernathy. I called out to Eric in the big sky. Chris bought those little balls of Indian pastry soaked in honey. My teeth hurt after tasting them. Dos Passos at a rest station in Tom Green County. And then, that night with you in the hotel. The apple juice. Two shooters, one of rum, and one of brandy, for the both of us. Fried mushrooms all to myself. That Chinese restaurant. You and your hamburger on the side of the canyon. Palo Duro. I kissed you at Lighthouse Rock. A seven mile hike on the canyon floor. Was it everything, or was it me?
Barricade, that one last desert outpost. This is where Old Santa Cruz used to be. You still see white crosses along the side of highway. It's something like maybe a couple hundred yards away from the highway. They plowed right over the hill that used to be the cemetery. Brilliant sunlight on asphalt. A cold day in New Mexico. We stopped in Roswell that evening when lightning came down the pass. Or was it Socorro? I can't remember now.
The sky is looking threatening. Let's hope our luck presses on a little longer. Visited the large state hospital the sign had pointed us to on the way out from the mountain pass. Planning to at least have Amarillo done by Thursday. The summer is gone. I'm waiting for your letter, we're going to Elk City after that, and maybe Tulsa if we can have the rest of the day tomorrow. Be careful.
Salt Lake City. Hill. Some pretty buildings. Snow in the mountains. Our hotel in town. It's one of those things I guess you can't avoid. I got a book here that I know you would like. 465 feet high. One of the tallest structures in town, it's a bright sunny day. Anxious for movement on legs. Moonlight over the hill. Last night we ended up in Salt Falls midway between Park City and Salt Lake. Meeting Joe in Saint George this afternoon.
His mother is Paiute and she invited me to tribal council. Joe is in bad shape. I told him that it would be nice if he made it out of the house, without the intent to drink. He isn't sure of what to think for himself. Cut. We came over the eastern slope. Tribal reservation. It's a shame people have to be packed in like that. Joe is to have back surgery in Idaho next month.
9,666 ft.
I just got your last postcard near Gomez on the border. I guess situations like that aren't something to be trifled with. Last night we had a storm. It soft hailed first and then snowed later on that evening. There were two identical elm trees on the side of the road we took pictures of; apparently the tour guide told us that these used to be determined as guide-points to Dorado. This is the furthest west we've ever been since we left Midland, and I don't think it will be as memorable as the time we went to see Mother in San Francisco.
I guess it can't be helped, the summer rains. We stayed at our aunt's house the other evening and I heard them talk about you and that business you started up awhile back. It's good to hear that you're up on your feet again. Did you hear about--
A Wal-Mart blazes in the distance. This morning we had a lovely sunrise before setting out for Santa Fe. I'll go ahead and give you a call later on this afternoon. Much love.
Now let me tell you about Maria and her sister. It's so obvious about what they say, like it's not important. Of course she's pregnant and just got married, I swear her mother is the worst alive; you ought to see her in her pink flip-flops at the trailer park. She was so unbelievably mean to us that night you and Travis decided to come over. And then I had to go through the same motions of how to do the same routine runs with people; her stupid accounting job—you know the one with the big plastic money sign over the doorway of the office. So it's pretty obvious, you know, it's pretty obvious. Just so you know I heard them talking over the telephone yesterday and it was like the most unbelievable thing yet, you know, 'cause she was talking as if you just walked in on them for chrissakes, her and Maria talking about--
Buzz. The yellow fluorescent light of a nearby taco stand somewhere outside of Odessa. A couple of dead insects caught in the milky white threads of cobwebs. Spiders in the corners with thick black abdomens and tiny little legs. Dead moths and flies on the counter. Grease. The cold dusty blue of the east after sunset. Band of Venus. Myrtles. I love the intricate traces of your body, your big strong arms, your kisses, your morning sunlight embraces over the kitchen sink. I wish I didn't have to be so far away.
The pickup is okay. Here is a sight of the beautiful lake we saw near the state line. We had a nourishing meal this afternoon. Potted meat on white bread, in the car. Terminal. A beautiful sunny day on a pristine mountain pass.
Skyline, looking south.
Your phone message was one of those wonderful things that only happen to me in a great while. It's so good that Eric went to prison after all that happened with that girl he was living with. I guess things came to a bad end with him, then. I feel worse for him than for the boy's family that turned him in. It really makes no difference whatsoever. Tonight after dinner we saw a movie at one of the largest and oldest drive-in theaters in the country. The elevation is sparse here (elev. 5, 183 ft), but the clean air is good and so much better than just burning ourselves at the beach. So sorry.
Will you please let Mr. Hardwick know his prescription is ready--
WHILE YOU WERE OUT. A phone call. Mr. Sánchez from the car dealership called asking about the pickup truck. You better get back to him, honey. We have bills to pay. 4:13 PM. Will call.
It is very miserable here. It's been snowing all day and it's clear white all around, with a couple of live oak trees sticking out against the grey. Christmas was one of those tedious affairs. Family all the same, my sister is pregnant again. I don't know what to do. I cried all last night because I learned about the guy she's having the baby with. He was killed in one of those horrible fires at the oil fields. I can't even say what happened.
Alamo. The tree, not the monument. Poplar trees in summertime with their silvery leaves and rustles that sounds like rain on an afternoon. The clear water puddles in summer, after I water the grass. I bought some plants in Mexico last week and they're somehow thriving all the way up here. Rose told me about you the other day, as I was coming back from market with a new Carhartt shirt to replace the one that got torn. Deep in the Heart of Texas. Kerrville. What did I say to you the other day? Can't remember. Didn't we plan something for Del Rio? You and me and the kids in the pickup again...?
These are not stones. I took this picture when we were out at San Agustin, an old ghost town. From what the guide tells me these are gravestones that date 1820 or so. No one has set foot here in about 30 years. There are only some stone foundations left over, the road being so inaccessible that we had to change tires before the trip. A long, tiring day. Home again. Last night we stopped off in Marfa and were surprised to find that you no longer live there. Mountains. It was a six hour drive back.
I don't know what to say. I think it says it for itself. I love this creek in spring. The water is ice cold, but so sweet.
There will be a Church Potluck at 7 PM on the 13th , a Wednesday. Please call Ellen Johnson at the number listed below. Suggested items: pastas, salads, lots of chili, hot dogs, hamburgers. Potluck is to be held on the grounds of the Courthouse Park in Ozona. Please pray for James M. for an end to his addiction to alcohol. Please pray for Sarah P. for a good marriage to a good man. Please refer all inquiries for prayer requests to Pastor Kevin after Sunday meeting. Requests must be submitted a day in advance for posting in the church bulletin. Please consider giving at the Hoedown for the Renovations of the Central Corinth Church. Do you know the Lord Jesus? Would you like to know Him? Then you can pray this prayer with---
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