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2003-09-20 Hi again! If you hadn't noticed, I am traveling around the US and writing about it. I am looking for nice, fun people who can put me up for a few nights and feed me (since I am broke) and show me a good time (since I like good times). If this sounds like fun for you, email me at justingrace AT mac DOT com with your info and address and phone number. I am especially looking for places to stay in the southern USA. Right now I really need a place to stay in or around the following places: Riverside/Palm Springs/Indio/Joshua Tree, CA Central Texas Mississippi Alabama Thanks in advance for your help! And now... US Tour Day 4: Inland Invasion I woke up in a strange bed. I was moving around my luggage and preparing my little nest of pillows when Larissa asked if I wanted to sleep in her bed with her. Assuring me that she didn't want to get it on—she said she really missed the warmth of just sleeping next to someone. "Get it on?", I thought. I giggled in my mind. I wanted to ask, ironically, "get what on?", but I was way too tired to be funny. A proper bed (as opposed to a makeshift nest on the floor) and the warmth of a friend to hug looked very attractive, so I fell deep into sleep next to this warm, kind new friend. Normally I have so much trouble falling asleep next to another person, unless it is someone I am very close to, such as Andie or Dave Marr. But, for some reason I fell asleep instantly and stayed asleep the whole night. It was great, there wasn't the usual sexual tension that tends to keep me awake when sleeping next to a woman—that constant wondering if maybe something might happen, anticipation that a hand might brush against some electrically charged piece of skin. But, instead there was warmth and hugs and sleeping and safety. And, many hours later I woke up in a strange bed. I pried open my eyes and saw a stark white mosquito net hanging from the ceiling, pouring down and wrapping itself like an embrace around the bed where I lay alone. Today we were going to a concert—one of those all–day events with fifty–million bands and fifty–million people where sodas cost ten bucks and you are so far away from the stage that you could probably see the bands just as well from your house in another city. But, you must understand that on this particular day that sounded like about the most fun thing I could imagine. I mean, there I was in a fun, new place with fun, new people and they—through theirincredible generosity and hospitality—were taking me to do this fun thing where we would hang out and eat and drink and have what I estimated to be nearly illegal quantities of fun together. I felt like the luckiest guy in the universe.
After The Sev we picked up food from the grocery store and began our 55 mile journey to Rancho Cucamonga for a day of music, sunburns, jumping up and down, and all around fun in that place the locals call The Inland Empire.
I didn't know The Cure had so many aching, agonizing songs about suffering, but they did all they could to reassure the crowd that they had plenty—and there were more where that came from, too. By the end of their set we huddled together on the blanket like a depression party, holding one another in semi–fetal position, moping, wishing the sad songs would stop. Hillary watched over us, making sure that none of us would end our lives at the suggestion of the music. But finally the band played their last song, an upbeat song—Boys Don't Cry—and we were freed from sadness' chains. Except for some low points brought on by The Cure audio depression missiles, we had the maximum amount of fun all day. We laughed and danced; we talked and played. Somehow my one day with Hillary, Leslie, and Larissa felt like one thousand days—one thousand long, full, fun days. I guess the word I keep using is 'fun'. I don't really have an adequate synonym for it—no other word can fit in its place. You should have seen us. Leslie jumped up and down with joy; Hillary and Larissa embraced us into a group hug, somehow shifting the balance of glee in the world a little bit higher than I thought possible. Fun was our theme, and we had it in droves. And, speaking of fun: if my trip continues to be this fun I will never have time to write about anything at all. I am going to have to start setting aside a few days each week, or maybe a few hours each day, just for writing. PREVIOUS ENTRY - NEXT ENTRY |