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November whateverth, 2011

This place, the road, makes it easier at the end of the day

Nowhere to go but nowhere

Just like back home but with more mountains

Less horrible accents

“Nothing a gorgeous sunset can’t fix!”

Eight trillion amazing sunsets a week can’t cure what ails me though

“It’s fake out there” they tell me

I see how fake they are though

Every last one of them

I want to just do this every day

Wake

Drive all day

Report what I see to someone

Sleep for three hours

Wake

Drive all day

Answer to no one

They ask way too many questions

Thankfully I always know to say yes

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This place right here, Las Vegas will leave you depressed, broke, horny, drunk and whatever else shitty feeling you can think of. I arrived here late in the afternoon just in time to take a couple of pictures of palm trees and blank faces. I am here on some high floor in a boring room. Harrahs. The room is big enough to hold a party though. I’m out of here soon. Wandering around hurting my feet and wasting a little money seemed like a good idea at the time. Everyone here is ugly. The men all wear Ed Hardy gear and the women all wear shit that looks like chicks who like dudes in Ed Hardy stuff wear. Late at night, early in the morning like now though. This is when you see the hardcore: Whores looking for one more late night cock, the elderly looking to win yet another three hundred bucks so they can go back home and have forty-six more boring Friday night haddock dinners, and me walking around slightly dazed, tired worn down from a week of driving. I’m full of energy though. I feel like I could sleep off the few gross drinks I had and get back in the car and head right back to Massachusetts.

Walking back to my room a little while ago. A stunningly beautiful black woman catches my eye and smiles at me. I smile back. I am slightly fucked up in the brainwaves but not enough to make bad decisions. It is 4:45 AM. She approaches me

“Hey honey, what are you up to?”

“Nothing really”

“You want to hang out?”

“Do I have to spend money”

“Well of course you need to spend money to have some fun”

“Oh, yeah I’m out of money at this hour sweetheart”

“You have a good night”

“It’s fucking morning” I think to myself. The cheeseburger I just ate fifteen minutes ago is now reminding me of this. I make my way back up to my huge boring room that looks out at a fake Eiffel Tower and pass out. I like black chicks too.

The drive from Las Vegas to Los Angeles is filled with douche bags and yellow dry mountains. Everything is yellow, gold and dusty. You see clouds billowing up to the sky, way off in the distance in the desert; someone driving through the middle of nowhere or a bunch of guys burying bodies all at once?

I have arrived in Los Angeles.

Early December 2011:

These late nights coming home

It’s finally quiet outside

Nothing but a few blue TV sliding glass doors

Silhouettes of palm trees

The golden swimming pool lights

What a calm scene to walk by

It lets you know where you are

I don’t even remember what New England is like

I know all the faces

All the voices of everyone I love there

Of every person I cared about

Here though

Everything goes on for miles and miles and miles

Streets, they never curve

You never have to pay attention on the surface streets

Every thought I have here

Is relative to something or someone back east

A million different mystery “hers” I’ll never tell anyone about

A million different roads traveled nobody needs to know I saw

I keep some of these travel stories to myself now

Without the energy or space to create right now

I have to keep it all to myself

I love it here

I love it there

I love the people here

I love the people there

The lights of the swimming pool at night though

They are much more inviting

More inviting than the frozen arms of snow banks everywhere you look

The lights of the swimming pool at night let me know two things

I’m home

I am far from home.

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