Marc
Day 11 (of my solitude): A Bunch of Miles (7,023 miles + the 300 feet or so from the bed to the desk and the vending machines and the car and the bathroom), BUTT[e], Montana (not that b-otch from Real World - Boston)
I could tell you all about how I drove through the mountains today and saw a breathtaking lake & all kinds of scenic scenery & hills & open plains, or about watching Sweet & Lowdown (a fabulous Woody Allen movie) on HBO for free, or about playing two straight hours of Mario Tennis and losing the Star Cup in straight sets to Birdo, or about going up to a building that had the Subway logo on it but no actual Subway inside, but I won't. Why? Because I'm bored. I cannot wait to go home. Seriously, I am so looking forward to being back in my bedroom with my guitars and my roommates (not in the same bedroom (or bed, for that matter) ), and hanging out. Matt told me not to look too forward to it because no one was there, but that's fine. I don't care. I'm going to call Ryan on Sunday, b/c I promised her I would two weeks ago when she called. I'm going to get drunk with Luke and Rick and Matt and Al (Zach are you coming down this weekend?). I'm going to watch a DVD. I'm going to try my hardest not to do laundry. I'm going to sleep in, and sleep comfortably in my own bed (although this is kind of a misnomer b/c these hotels beds could kick my bed's ass anyday of the week). I'm going to relax, and get my guitar calluses back, and maybe go out to Zorba's on Sunday with Erin & Co. and get some food.
I don't usually get this homesick, but then again, I don't usually go out this long alone on trips. Maybe it's because I've stayed in a different hotel everynight (no sense of stability). Maybe it's the absolute lack of any kind of physical contact (vocal, physical, whatevercal). Seriously, I have never gone this long without talking to anyone. I said maybe a total of fifty words today. I don't ever talk that little. I usually never shut the hell up.
I don't care if this is another ATR moment. Fuck it.
Oh, and Jessie Camp (former MTV VJ) is "clean and sober" and working on some "Southern Soul" album straight from his heart. Thank-f'in-God. At least I'll be able to sleep tonight.
Day 11 (of my solitude): A Bunch of Miles (7,023 miles + the 300 feet or so from the bed to the desk and the vending machines and the car and the bathroom), BUTT[e], Montana (not that b-otch from Real World - Boston)
I could tell you all about how I drove through the mountains today and saw a breathtaking lake & all kinds of scenic scenery & hills & open plains, or about watching Sweet & Lowdown (a fabulous Woody Allen movie) on HBO for free, or about playing two straight hours of Mario Tennis and losing the Star Cup in straight sets to Birdo, or about going up to a building that had the Subway logo on it but no actual Subway inside, but I won't. Why? Because I'm bored. I cannot wait to go home. Seriously, I am so looking forward to being back in my bedroom with my guitars and my roommates (not in the same bedroom (or bed, for that matter) ), and hanging out. Matt told me not to look too forward to it because no one was there, but that's fine. I don't care. I'm going to call Ryan on Sunday, b/c I promised her I would two weeks ago when she called. I'm going to get drunk with Luke and Rick and Matt and Al (Zach are you coming down this weekend?). I'm going to watch a DVD. I'm going to try my hardest not to do laundry. I'm going to sleep in, and sleep comfortably in my own bed (although this is kind of a misnomer b/c these hotels beds could kick my bed's ass anyday of the week). I'm going to relax, and get my guitar calluses back, and maybe go out to Zorba's on Sunday with Erin & Co. and get some food.
I don't usually get this homesick, but then again, I don't usually go out this long alone on trips. Maybe it's because I've stayed in a different hotel everynight (no sense of stability). Maybe it's the absolute lack of any kind of physical contact (vocal, physical, whatevercal). Seriously, I have never gone this long without talking to anyone. I said maybe a total of fifty words today. I don't ever talk that little. I usually never shut the hell up.
I don't care if this is another ATR moment. Fuck it.
Oh, and Jessie Camp (former MTV VJ) is "clean and sober" and working on some "Southern Soul" album straight from his heart. Thank-f'in-God. At least I'll be able to sleep tonight.
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