2002-08-09 || 10:26 a.m.

|| great american west road trip story part 1 ||

getting back in the lovely swing of things by way of late night quiche-making (so fancy! so easy! i am becoming culinary vixen!) and clash of the titans. there is an eighty percent chance sister hand will be moving here to fulfill the all-star-hand-sisters-in-your-town-prophecy, although i shouldn't speak of it for fear of jinxes and faulty job offers. meow meow has been the nicest ladycat this side of the mason-dixon, reminding me of the fact i have been back only two days.

before that, all scrambled. a western road trip quiche extravaganza:

karaoke in portland with the ever wondrous muffie, ever glamorous nicole, soulful nate, and perpetual travel companion embee. breakfast with owen and nate d and chris, fighting over who ironman is, actually, and the superpowers of various comic book heroes. embarking on The Drive. oregon-washington-idaho. the bar in couer d'alene, where we spied on the townfolk as they stared at us, playing trivia and smoking and embee reducing me to tears during a somewhat drunken conversation regarding not living up to my potential. west idaho-east idaho. stopping at wallace for the oasis rooms bordello tour, tucking menus in our pockets ($15 for straight-up no frills! hot dog!) and itchy fingers trying to steal Authentic Bordello discarded make up and cigarette butts. getting a bit uncomfortable with all the taxidermy/hunting paraphernalia/tough severe masculinity blooming all about us. east idaho-montana. changing an absolutely shredded tire on the highway of magnificent plains, running across the street to take pictures of horses and cows and hillsides, stopping to pose in front of said shredded tire for the sake no one would believe it otherwise (like a shark attacked it!). lincoln, montana: land of beef jerky and considerable roadkill. singing johnny cash and the papercuts and bauhaus and sir mix a lot. cabin fever. finally finally reaching great falls, speeding down rocky roads to the Trailer. running like mad to the door to hear kelly shout at us from behind. my sissy, incredibly tan with long lanky hair. has gotten incredibly good at the guitar (in the way of blue oyster cult, oh dear.). talks to the spiders living in the kitchenette. thinks nothing of the no hot water no outdoor lights scary scary wilderness sounds and all that Black. it is true about montana and the big sky. oppressively big sky. suffocatingly big sky. we went out to dinner and stopped at the hot spot of great falls. oh dear.

to be continued. jeez. i just don't have much energy yet to write it all out.

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