Saturday, February 19, 2011
Sunday, December 10, 2006
thanksgiving 06
de trip ny 06 Wed, and Thanksgiving
A woman has emailed me that she would like to buy something of William S. Burroughs for her husband. I chat, later her husband calls. He is a real reader of William, keeps "Naked Lunch" on his dashboard. A deal is struck. I could ship it but I renogiate $200 on the dicker price and offer to deliver it. On Sunday, I started to think, I could drive to New York, I thought of leaving on Tuesday, but Wed. I left around 4:pm. I packed the art, too many clothes, pillows, clothes, a sewing machine for lena. Drove through Kansas City, one city I hate driving in. Changed routes going in, heard on the radio of a fatality accident on the original route. I believe the seat is sprung. I love driving, drove through the night, through Mo. and Indiana, remembered how much I loved the Ohio valley and Penn. so planned to hit there in daylight. Right outside of Ohio stopped at a truck stop, commented to the waitress that I hadn't driven the route for 28 years. She said, it must look real different. My answer, no, drove at night both times, looked the same. I stop a lot, to ease my sore butt and to move the knee.I still love the Ohio Valley, but it smells real bad, lots of air pollution.
A lot of heavy traffic, all the way, full roads, 70 sucks. Memories flood me in Columbia, Mo. lost dead love. I think of people, Ruth, Billy, Dennis, lots of life went on when I lived in Columbia, intimate close life, I appreciate that.
Too much coffee and got lost in Columbus Ohio, needing to pee real bad, exited and ended up in upscale retirement community. I have perfected the Patricia Elliott peeing from the car technique. One sits on the very edge of the car door sill, leaving your skirt or a large atlas across the lap, only visable sign is the stream. Much more comfortable than squatting away from the car. Desperate, I sit on the edge, pretending to read, peeing into the gravel. If I don't look suspicious, it may be because I feel invisible. Once back in the seat I hook up the jeans, adjust. Driving away, relaxed, less urgent.
I call the buyers in Penn. I explain my slow progress and that I should arrive around 9pm. He thinks it is only three or four hours, I didn't think so.
The Pennsyvannia Turnpike is bad, bad road, lots of construction. bad signs, little information. I get last instructions from Chris, to go down a highway and he will come and guide me. My exit is dark, no immediate indication of direction. I drive right, little road, curves and dark. I pull into a giant plant entrance and call again. Sitting there at the gate, noone around, in the distant lot a parked security vehicle. I am slightly worried, here I sit with $10,000 dollars worth of art, waiting for a stranger to meet me and guide me to his house.
Two women drive up, one jumps up, the other gets out, our they mine? No, they change seats, drive away. Thirty minutes pass, suddenly behind me, a old van, decorated with tin ceiling decals. It's my guy. I follow him down country lanes, through little hamlets, all the time, another car is beyond me. My paranoia is lurking in my brain, are they following us? Turn after turn, it is the three cars, only at the last turn does the third car, leave the route. We turn down a funny little gravel drive. I wobble to the house, knees shaky, head loopy from my 1100 mile drive. It is wonderful, The woman is lovely, the guy, nervous as I am. tatooed, young, lean. There is a baby, looks up and smiles.
I get home made pumpkin bread, which I love. Martha owen use to serve me pumpkin bread.
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