Travelogue #33 (you're thinking "what happened to #32"--well, #32 got rained on by his own .38)
Poor Jaybird
From Jay's speech pattern, I could tell he was a stoner. And that he wasn't a very bright person sober, either. That Jay was doomed by fate's idea to cast stupidity on him like a Prometheus's liver being chewed out by some executive rooks. He was a cursed man.
But, from what Jay told me, I was with him. I was rooting for the underdog against the meddling demigods. He may be stupid, but dare I say, he knew empathy. He picked ME up on I-5 Northbound. Even the police drove by.
Empathetic and go-with-the-flow described Jay's personality. His grey hair with the Army Green Supply Truckers Cap, the oversized jacket to conceal less-than-you'd-think "pot" belly (double entendre--w00t w00t!). Marijuana had a serious factor in his life, but when he told me about the topless women who worked for him as a roofer--one, being his wife--could it be a successful venture? Constantly drug-addled... Hedonism is seductive until the bill arrives. That blowjob from the prostitute was enjoyable, but now where am I going to get our rent?
Poor Jay, he just kept getting into the same messes. His current wife, wife number five, was a 20-something runaway that he picked up hitchhiking, saved her from bullet holes on her car, and she repaid. Yes, when he was sleeping one night, she came in, said, "I'm cold, can I sleep in your bed?" Jay was cautious, so he suggested they sleep opposite. Foot to face. She started to provide fellatio to him and the rest is the history's of his story.
And, he began to complain about the newest one, that she had some love in her, that there was a beautiful girl inside of her trapped, but she was "such a bitch"! Did he enjoy the duality? I don't know, but I enjoyed the Crack in the Jack he bought for the both of us. I enjoyed the conversation, the autumn of life he was in, the aww shucks experience, the way Jay spoke about love, about not wanting to hurt anyone, and Burning Man. He even suggested I read The Four Agreements, which was as New Age-y as you can get. But, even those four...
You could mock it, but at the end of the day, I want a beer from my boss when I try but fail, I want my wife to smear my face with a warm cloth and warmer giggle when I walk up the door to our substandard hovel, I want the handicapped woman to offer me her seat on the seat and then, reply, "No, no no, you sit, lovely...". I want love!
Love, love, love. And Jay was it. But, I had to do, uh, these things and, we'll, uh, meet again. But I still haven't added his profile on Facebook, and YOU KNOW HOW IT IS? Don't you? DON'T YOU!?!?
We got lost in Grant's Pass in cold weather, Jay dropped me off near a gas station. He gave me some free weed. I found myself masturbating behind a bar and grain silo. The love of my life will surely come if only if I could be more giving like Jay. I came for her, thinking of no one who would come for me.
Poor Jaybird
From Jay's speech pattern, I could tell he was a stoner. And that he wasn't a very bright person sober, either. That Jay was doomed by fate's idea to cast stupidity on him like a Prometheus's liver being chewed out by some executive rooks. He was a cursed man.
But, from what Jay told me, I was with him. I was rooting for the underdog against the meddling demigods. He may be stupid, but dare I say, he knew empathy. He picked ME up on I-5 Northbound. Even the police drove by.
Empathetic and go-with-the-flow described Jay's personality. His grey hair with the Army Green Supply Truckers Cap, the oversized jacket to conceal less-than-you'd-think "pot" belly (double entendre--w00t w00t!). Marijuana had a serious factor in his life, but when he told me about the topless women who worked for him as a roofer--one, being his wife--could it be a successful venture? Constantly drug-addled... Hedonism is seductive until the bill arrives. That blowjob from the prostitute was enjoyable, but now where am I going to get our rent?
Poor Jay, he just kept getting into the same messes. His current wife, wife number five, was a 20-something runaway that he picked up hitchhiking, saved her from bullet holes on her car, and she repaid. Yes, when he was sleeping one night, she came in, said, "I'm cold, can I sleep in your bed?" Jay was cautious, so he suggested they sleep opposite. Foot to face. She started to provide fellatio to him and the rest is the history's of his story.
And, he began to complain about the newest one, that she had some love in her, that there was a beautiful girl inside of her trapped, but she was "such a bitch"! Did he enjoy the duality? I don't know, but I enjoyed the Crack in the Jack he bought for the both of us. I enjoyed the conversation, the autumn of life he was in, the aww shucks experience, the way Jay spoke about love, about not wanting to hurt anyone, and Burning Man. He even suggested I read The Four Agreements, which was as New Age-y as you can get. But, even those four...
You could mock it, but at the end of the day, I want a beer from my boss when I try but fail, I want my wife to smear my face with a warm cloth and warmer giggle when I walk up the door to our substandard hovel, I want the handicapped woman to offer me her seat on the seat and then, reply, "No, no no, you sit, lovely...". I want love!
Love, love, love. And Jay was it. But, I had to do, uh, these things and, we'll, uh, meet again. But I still haven't added his profile on Facebook, and YOU KNOW HOW IT IS? Don't you? DON'T YOU!?!?
We got lost in Grant's Pass in cold weather, Jay dropped me off near a gas station. He gave me some free weed. I found myself masturbating behind a bar and grain silo. The love of my life will surely come if only if I could be more giving like Jay. I came for her, thinking of no one who would come for me.
