9.18.2005

SOMEWHERE OUTSIDE OF CHEYENNE I BEGAN TO HALLUCINATE

ladies and gentlemen, like many great travelers and explorers from William Lewis (Will Clark was a little bitch) to every dirty, haky-sack playing, frisbee ("Bee")-hucking, trustafarian-turned-dot-commer in silicon valley, i have finally arrived in California. the journey west, however, was not the wild, sex-doused road trip glorified by the movie of that same name; mine was much less exciting and much more... i might say "painful" for simplicity sake.

i began to hallucinate, if you'll recall, somewhere around Cheyenne, but certainly my agony neither began, nor ended in that desolate Wyoming town.

-in Rockford i started to question the majesty of the Westward-Ho! movement, but i still maintained a cautious sense of optimism.

-somewhere around Des Moines i realized there was really no turning back in this little endeavor of mine, a fact that crept over my soul with the icy fingers of terror once i learned the truth: corn is dumb.

-when we finally reached Omaha, Nebraska, the seeds of a rather nasty and irritating brain tumor took root in my memory and emotional nuclei. i know this because, 200 miles into that horrid, god-forsaken state, i began to wish that i were still in Iowa. i longed for the sweeping vistas and jagged peaks of Iowa.

-crossing the border into Wyoming, constant and violent shivers overtook my weakened body, and i noticed ghostly clouds of eerie light appearing randomly on the side of the road, forcing me to swerve fiercely to avoid collision as they darted in front of the car.

-200 miles outside of Salt Lake City, i contracted Lupus.

-i did manage to see a rather breathtaking sunrise over a sprawling sulfur mine 275 from Reno. "i would be remiss if i didn't compliment Nevada on it's magnificent vistas," i remarked.
"i am in total agreement with you, dawg," replied Benjamin Franklin, and passed me the barbecue-flavored sunflower seeds.

-crossing through the Donner Pass into California, i made the grievous but necessary decision to eat Benjamin Franklin's lifeless corpse. years later i would defend my actions by declaring, "with averted eyes and trembling hand, pieces of flesh were severed from the inanimate form and laid upon the coals. it was the very refinement of torture to taste such food, yet those who tasted lived...." in my book, Why I Ate Ben Franklin, which would stay on the New York Times best-seller list for 18 weeks.

-i awoke from a diabetic coma in the bay area, unable to taste salt and only able to speak in the gerund tense... or rather i was only able to participate in the speaking of the gerund tense. i was also an apprentice in a 15th century Venetian metalsmithing shop.

fortunately, the immensity of our little expedition tipped the scales at a paltry 37 hours, and we arrived promptly at 6pm...

...at which time i was told (and i'm not making this up) that there was no record of any arrangement made between me and the apartment building to which i had been assigned.

2 comments:

reckless said...

in an effort to add to the surreality, here's a little glimpse of that which spawned brooke hogan.

killerbravs said...

yer a genius. thanks for the gerund shout-out, it's clearly the most underrated grammar "thing". how the hell was the trip back?