Reading Mark Wallace's Temporary Worker Rides a Subway and watched In the Realms of the Unreal and they triggered some strange neuron firings this morning.
I am in an airport full of Japanese folks. It's a small airport. I am trying to get to Washington state (Bellingham to be exact) for a worker's union meeting for the Vivian girls. I find some loud country folk in the corner of the airport and ask them where I am and they laugh and tell me "the center of the bum universe." I show them my boarding pass and they scrutinize it and walk away shaking their heads. When I look down at my boarding pass it's just a sketch of a little girl with a penis with the words HATE and LOVE scribbled on the side. When I go to the security checkpoint they tell me I am in Reno, Nevada and the airport will soon close due to a sandstorm and hand me a coupon for Krispy Cremes and a hot dog.
Then I am in Times Square in NY and it's 1982 and people are breakdancing and keep asking me the time. Some small African American boys rapping tell me I am fading and to look for Daren in Milton Keynes (England).
So I am on a subway and everyone speaks via hand signs or small chalkboards. When they write on the chalkboard it's in all caps and does not correspond to typical communication. They tell me this is the new age. The picture theory of the universe has retreated to the planet Kolob (a planet behind the sun where Joseph Smith thought god lived).
So off I go on a train with a six pack of Carling Black Label and holding hands with little blond girls singing "I've got friends in low places" (that Garth Brooks song).
I am now awake. I went straight to the computer in a haze and wrote this down.
Now I need some coffee.
