Landlord. Boss. Hero.

Julie, I hope you don't mind me stealing this superlative photo of your father.



Let me tell you about Tom, artist, landowner, engineer. Fast Tom. Refloored my former residence. Put a bathroom in the party closet. You all know Tom and that infamous piece of property. 9 Tucker nearly killed us, you know. But Tom, hero to all, swooped in and fixed the furnace, which, had we been affluent enough to use it, would have spewed CO into our brains. Apparently it was jolted loose during a party in the basement, a source of infinite amusement to Tom.

Tom once worked 12 hours in the hot sun without taking a sip of water. His mustache has killed a man. I'm told he takes good pictures. With his handsome wife Terri, he's borne over one hundred daughters. He enjoys beer, Budweiser I think. Here's to you, Tom.

My pictureless photo essay

I certainly never claimed to be a photographer, but I at least thought I had the pointing and shooting down. Well, looks like I'd have saved some time, trouble, and money if I'd have just chucked my two Rite Aid brand disposable cameras out the window somewhere along Highway 40. I took picture after picture of flat blurs framed by my car door.

Here's a quick tour with words of what I wanted to show in pictures to avoid conveying what I saw over 2100 miles of road in words.

Virginia: Virginia never never ends when you're going southwest. It has this big green tentacle reaching towards Tennessee. Not that you could tell either apart. Mountains or hills, covered in trees. Trees trees trees. I believe it's somewhere in this deciduous mess that there is a sign, which I scrambled to photograph, in vain, for "Troutville," right next to the exit for "Fincastle!" A little fishy fiefdom up in the hills.

Right around Memphis I stopped for the night, and had my greatest inspiration: I would write where I was on the hotel room's mirror and take a funny picture of myself. Well, I must have really done it up in Memphis because those photos are just plain missing from the pack. The ones from Amarillo are hazy and abstracted, and not worth a goddamn.

I took blurry pictures in Arkansas, in Oklahoma, in the Texas Panhandle, and couldn't snap them off fast enough between Albuquerque and Las Cruces. There were just beautiful rocks, piled up, fallen down, vast stretches and sudden peaks. Ghosts everywhere.

If you really want to see the pictures from my trip just shake your head all around and say "Oklahoma," or "mountains," or "desert." I'm here now, come visit and see all the pretty blurs for yourself.

Laughing all the way to hell

On the way to see my favorite musicians, Sterling and Modest Mouse. Party!

Friends

I have a lot of good friends. In fact I have the best friends out of anyone ever. I don't want any new friends. I don't even want to meet new people. I've already had to talk to too many strangers here in Las Cruces.

For instance, there's Eric. I saw Eric at El Patio - awesome terrible bar - and almost had eleven heart attacks before I realized I didn't recognize him from Annapolis: I recognized him from High Desert Brewery across town. We had a friendly chat outside and ended up at the same party. You see what I mean? It's already happening.

Eric works at High Desert with Matteo, who's a tough nut, but likable. Additionally, he is 2007ish Kevin Madsen. I'm talking glasses, beard, long hair, shitty restaurant job. Come on, Kevin, what are you doing out here? I might have fallen for it, but I mean, what the fuck kind of name is Matteo?

I'll omit some people for brevity's sake. In fact, along with Dwayne, they should get their own posts. But it's very important to mention Dwayne, or as I call him, "New Mexico Alec." I'm not sure what the resemblance is exactly, and of course Alec is way awesomer.

Anyway, Dwayne plays pool. Everyone here plays pool. I don't have a job. I think I'll start playing pool, gambling, and drinking during the day. Cheers!

Pictures soon.

Do you ever wish you were dead instead of cruising around on the internet? Well, you've only just begun to know what regret is. I'm broadcasting to you live from Las Cruces, New Mexico.

That's it for now.

- Chris