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last updated: 4/27/03 - 1:41pm EST

L.A. to New York Road Trip Part II, Electric Bugaloo -- starring: "slee" como, jg, and parky

Departure Date: Saturday April 19, 2003, Los Angeles, Califas


Sat April 19 | Sun April 20 | Mon April 21 | Tue April 22 | Wed April 23 | Thur Apr 24 | Fri Apr 25

Photique Gallery 1 | Photique Gallery 2 | Photique Gallery 4 | Photique Gallery 5 | Photique Gallery 6

 


Friday April 25, 2003
Bronxville, New York

Morning in Delaware with our waiter cool cat Cisco, hipping us to his dreams of a phat escalade with 22 inch rims, telling us stories about his frenchie girlfriend in college. o dear! the lurid details we chuckled. Him a very friendly soul and wishing us safe passage to new york. O new york! Home. Back through the Boogie Down Bronx after digging the Jersey turnpike. City news/ top rocking blues/ box orthodox style like a worm/ i am from cali/ no i do not have a perm...You are with us in NJ. You are with us on the West Side. You are with us as we cross the vibrating web of the George Washington Bridge. You are with us here. A bright warm day (fer east coasters) with the flowers weighing down the branches. O New York! O the heart! The hello boys part II road journey ending but a new page turning -- two bums yelling by the bus stop -- the kids in t-shirts standing outside Yankee stadium. I'm a wee bit tired but excited for my stay here. Old friends, old loves, new friends, new loves -- in the city there are a million stories -- me and my new east village cutie/ cooling on the bench and she's rubbing on me booty/ etc... Thank you for peeping the pages and following with us. The open road is for everybody! Not once did we argue for we laughed the whole time. Bless Johnny and Jimi. Bless you for listening! Bless the open road, sky, field, desert, mountain, farm, city, river, ocean, truck stop, highway highway highway, now sitting and enjoying some tea on Sycamore Ave casa Goodner. Resting and getting ready for the madness that will unfold this week for us. Body is tired but the brain is still moving, always out there -- past concrete horizons. New York for a few weeks and back home to los, califas to take care of the work work work. But now, everything is open as it always is. What thoughts do you have moving through with all your atoms on fire? What song do you hear when you head hits the pillow? Fellow traveller, we meet and shake hands, we trade stories, we talk the song of the heart, then go in other directions. We are same travellers on the road of the heart. The road is love. The heart is knowing. The world is love.


Thursday April 24, 2003
Delaware

I always loved Delaware and now I get to spend some time. In the VA truck stop, a chap in a camo cap does a complete turn around when I walk in. And I wasn't even rocking the NASA jumpsuit yet. We sat down for dindin and listened to this trucker chat up our cute and country waitress. Johnny dug the giant trucker centre while Jim and I talked about working for the "big boss" and other "Italians" and how I didn't want to "do the job" because I was afraid the "Chinese" would "ice me." My back turn to the other truckers, of course. Jim giggling as ear perked up and listened. Don't want to watch the hotel telly/ the truckers have big bellies/ comb my hair like ted kopple/ get gas when i eat falafel... and so on. O Delaware! O first state, how we forget about your Dunkin Donuts and late nite snacky places. We very tired. We pull in near 2 in the morn/ eat your corn/ flake on me i'll still love ya/ tiny angelic delaware above the/ boys sitting and listening to Laurie Anderson and tripping robotique ripples while I got under lamby pie warm covers and drifted to sleepsville and back into the void.


Wednesday April 23, 2003
Staunton, Virginia

A very long drive from Memphis to Staunton. Rolling green hills, cows, barns and woods blur by the window. On the car hi fi is Carter family. We stop in Knoxville to dig the sunsphere a la "wig dome" from Simpsons and find the old city district very cultured. I had some authentic fish and chippies while Johnny became smitten with our attractive young waitress, who wrote some happy face notes on the takeway box. She wanted to leave her town and make it to Califas with Johnny? Child bride drive along? Jim and I cut out to an antique store where the man-friendly owner kept talking and thus I was unable to bust out the goofing on him. When we mentioned the "Wigsphere" he said he was not ignorant (being a Northerner) and knew about that Simpsons episode. Then he dropped the Los Feliz and WeHo knowledge on me while I proclaimed I wuz from the streetz and chuckah chuckah. We drove and called Brendan to wish him happy birthday but we were a day early. Nice to chat with him and chuckle chuckah chuckah. Very long drive to country side Staunton where some sistah was not happy working the night shift. Me tired. Me crashing. Me have many miles, many miles, many miles to go. Jim dreaming of hip hop Bronx and wifey; me dreaming of Japanese food and Japanese special friend back home; Johnny making plans to import his new child bride. Goodnight.

 


Tuesday April 22, 2003
Memphis, Tennessee

Soulville. Driving over the Ole Miss and into Memphis is heaven. The city lights were a welcoming sight. I love rural America but the city is where I feel most at home. I grew up with Soul music so being in Memphis, home of Otis, Booker and Stax Records is coming home for me. And boy, goofing with our soul food catfish and beer while listening to a blues band was glorious. The guitarist was from East Los/Highland Park, Califas so I gave him props to the max. There was a wonderful Blues store and the owner introduced himself as Davis, Layfette. We don't know what is his first name but his polite and lazy Southern drawl was warm and soothing. He told me he used to work in the supermarket across from Stax and would see all the the Soul Stars come in. Booker T., The wicked Wilson Pickett, Issac Haynes, Otis -- he's seen and heard them all. On the stereo was the Howling "Wolf" and some Willie Dixon. I was also glad to see some other Asians and I nodded at a brother walking by with his family. Lord have mercy, I haven't seen any other yellow chiggahs for days -- except for yours truly in the mirror. Beale Street is clean, tourist and blasting the blues. I like country and all types of music but it's Soul Music that is the sweetest, baby. Now it's night in Memphis and after digging the city for some exciting hours, it's time for sleepsville, dig? Soul is love.



Monday April 21, 2003
Day 3
Clinton, Oklahoma

Parky writes: A delicious organic breakfast from the Bullocks. I woke up the boys early so we could hit the road. New Mexico is a beautiful red cliff. On Route 66 we stopped at a pawn shop we had visited five years ago. There were no albums for me to purchase this time. JG stalked some brilliant motel scenes while Jimi and I watched some Native American fellow wash his truck wearing a tall white cowboy hat. We drove and drove and drove. I listened to the Flaming Lips, Beck and some classique country sur la radio. I love Texas and drove through it but all I got was this lame speeding ticket from Officier O'Brien, who made me sit in the car while he checked out my record. He said I was speeding; I told him that I was a writer, lived in Los, was driving to East Coast toast, and enjoying the beauty of ticket, and had to feed a wifey and kids back in Rancho Cucamonga. He gave me a ticket instead. Now in Clinton, OK. Ok? Ok? Ok? I am ok? Are you? We stopped by the KKKmart and got some supplies while I peeped some bloke with a young wifey who gave me back some glares. They scared of me. They knowing me from the skreetz of east los. Them seeing webbie. Them smile toothless grin and said, "Hello China." We nod to each other as the four horsemen of the apocalypse break through the storm clouds on mopeds. The coyotes are calling to each other. In the hotel room watching telly and on the book, deciding what dvd movie to watch. Thank you for visiting our tour webbie site. Thank you for the feedback. Texas, thank you for the ticket which I will now obsess on. Goodnight.

   
Route 66, Tucumcari, New Mexico - 4/21/03


Sunday April 20, 2003
Easter, Nite
Placitas, New Mexique

Parky writes: Easter at the Bullocks. Last night we took a moonless hike in the Grand Canyon. It was really cold but a wonderful time under the ripples of stars, UFOs, and black night. Johnny and Jim enjoyed their trip as I drove them to the South Ridge of the Canyon. I thought we were the only hikers crazy enough to be walking around in 32 degrees F, but I was wrong. We met three delirious East Indian hikers who were just completing their ten hour hike. One of the blokes had socks over his hands. Poor chap! Suddenly, the moon came out. We chilled on the rocks and enjoyed the quiet brilliance of the tremulous stars. Hours later we drove back to the hotel and saw tall Elk stalking us – him wanting to email us as well, but us driving by him and waving goodbye. Me sleep at hotel after writing while boys continued to trip. I dreamed about surfboards and sushi and the brown eyed girl… Today is Easter. Today is rebirth and walking around the bright canyon this time seeing all its glory. Two condors took flight and circled round our halos. Clowns formed from the clouds; the heart is an open horizon. Driving to New Mexique, we stop at various places to stretch and dig scenery. The three Navaho teens in cowboy hats and boots drink soda at the truck stop. Signs on the road tempt us with authentic rugs, dolls, and home cooking. Thank goodness we arrive for delicious meal with Kristina’s parents – God bless them! Now sitting in the lovely Bullocks home, drinking tea, and trying to remember all the images and stories. O wide open spaces, my friends. The road we travel is the road of the heart!



Jimi writes: I think Roger pretty much covered it all with his deft touch and whimsical stylings; anything I add to the mix is just trimmings, like parsley. The canyon went above and beyond all expectations and at one point I believed that a bat – which was very real – was controlling the amount of moonlight spilling into the canyon. Nature winking at us, plus the sense of awe and humility that the Canyon inspires. Poor Roger was very patient and he certainly lived up to his moniker of “Senor Peligroso.” He led us back to safety and we tried not to be miscreants while he slept; but he’s so crafty maybe the joke was on us. We had been brutalized by a buffet-style dinner from Hell and the lysergic “jaunt” just added to the whole “let’s kick it up a notch” motif that we have always aspired to. What else? At one point I was color-coding my co-workers according to their personality types – you get the picture. Last night we were fearless and there was very little loathing; Borat was in the house and we experimented with echoes in the canyon and it helped that some of us could actually see the echo. In the morning we went back and got to see what the moonlight wouldn’t show us and it was like some Kubla Khan-style vision – a magnificent hallucination some benevolent higher power had left behind for us. It was too outstanding to be real; it was able to not only compete with but surpass the cartography of the imagination. I too will dream of a certain brown-eyed, brown-skinned girl tonight; I will go back to that part of the world with her. Thank you for reading this and now it’s time for Ali G. and my favorite Hi-Liter™ device. Plus Goodner is being cheeky and truculent. Hey, we’re all surly without sleep. Thank you Kristina’s parents. Redeem your dreams for free at the Grand Canyon. And remember – a leprechaun is a tricky little man. Stay frosty.

[Other items of note: Detective Borat & Inspector Boutros were on hand to witness Catfish Ripplers™ and the Elky Mules. Now playing at Bright Angel Lodge. PS - The Indian Chap made it safely back to the buffet this morning. Also of note, new instructions on how to categorize and color code all your associates. Auf Wiedersehen und Gobinda.]





Saturday April 19, 2003
Grand Canyon, Arizona
O the open road! We left Los at ten in the morn and headed East under great blue Cal sky with clouds peeling back a trembling horizon of highway and snow capped mountains. JG driving the transport and determined to make the Grand Canyon before sunset; Parky in the passenger seat looking out the window; Jim in the back on the sleep tip and snacking on the Japanese rice crackers. Yucca cacti and chaparral mesa frozen as we blur by in our large black car, digging all the boss sounds we compiled from our collected musique: trembling from the stereo Beasties, Sigur Ros, Dub, Marley, Quasi, Boards of Canada, and more. Thanks and love to Brendan for burning the cds for us and preparing safety journey tip list for us. And now it’s night in the great Grand Canyon. Welcome to Arizona. The expanse of sky and canyon is glorious in pink red orange sunset hues unfolding. In Williams we stopped for gasoline and some snacky flavour from the local Dairy Queen. Two American sweethearts brewed us a fresh cup of coffee while me took a skating break an empty parking lot. Nap time later for parky as jg and como drove into the Canyon. Borat would be proud of us for asking the locals all the “wrong questions.” The canyon was lovely and large. This is the first time for jg and como to experience the great Grand Canyon. Two friendly blokes hep us to a Califas Condor chillin on ridge. Through the telescope we learned that his name was “93.” There is the sweet jingle jangle of Jim’s panda-themed cellular phone as he chats with his girl and future wifey. There is the wind through the window. There is the sound of English, French, Spanish and Japanese in the hotel dinning place. Don’t tell my new nutritionist (who is sexy) that I ate chicken for dinner. I had to. It was so delicious. But you are here with us as trains with boxcar boxcar boxcar boxcar rumbles by – the ghost of an old airplane – the heart is open. Johnny’s photos give a good slice about how trip so far. Now another trip will begin. I’m writing this in the hotel room as jim and john drop some windowpane magic. There is a ghost of a cowboy roaming the halls and looking for ice. I will drive us to the Canyon for a night hike though it’s cold. Maybe they’ll find our remains hundreds of years later at the bottom of the canyon. I’ll be clutching my notebook, johnny’s his camera and jim with his “panda” phone. No, the world will not end. I hope to meet some European or Japonais tourists on our hike. I wish to tell them that the condor was a good blessing and that we need them to guide us back to the top of the ridge because we’ve lost our way. Trembling moon above Arizona; the cold wind is our pillow. We walk through the canyons, full with love.

We're proud to be putting these upcoming pages of our adventure together for the Built Boyle. Go Open Road! The first trip was made in 1995 but we've packed out more madness for this voyage. Johnny is outfitting the transport with a lot of high techy computadora flavour so we will be able to update and transmit the image, text, sound source for ya'll to peep. Isn't that neat? He'll be taking some fine art pichers for everybody to see. And Slee is flying from NY at the moment with a lot of heavy shit to blow your minds. Me? Taking care of business and filing the last of the work, surfing the curls, feeding "my girls", etc.. Even on the open road we will be able to "touch you" and you will be able to "touch us." You like? Self-absorbed jacquer pages? More like clowny collective, my friends. Tis freedom of movement with all atoms vibrating in our shared earthly passage. You will be with us in New Mexique. You are with us in Tehas. You are with us in Delaware! You are with us in Memphis! You are with us in Nepal, well, maybe not Nepal. You are with us in unconditional love and insanity. Ignore the land of hungry ghosts -- they have heartburn and they're too attached still. We welcome the nightmares, too! All is glorious and we know what a fool you've been. You've lied, cheated and sneaked a few farts. O heart! You're all forgiven. Even in all the confusion, suffering and pain, you laugh. The sound is love. The world is love.


Sexy Beast™ photographique de John M. Goodner © 2003

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