Sunday Bloody Sunday
I arrived in Salt Lake this morning a little before noon. I left Provo in search of a more acceptable city life.
This is where alcoholics are born.
Give any population a full day with nothing to do but sit at home, and you've got to have given birth to at least one alcoholic. Foreign countries are always difficult to adjust to.
Being here makes me think about my political beliefs. For as long as I can remember, I have been an avid supporter of the 10th Amendment. I have always felt that states should be given the right to be individuals within a union that forms our nation.
Then I visited Utah. After visiting Atlanta.
This is a truly remarkable country. The soveriegn state of Utah has a long list of amazingly asinine rules, as do its many storied institutions. Being a visitor to Utah on a Sunday is akin to being in solitary confinement, at least I assume. It's odd to feel as though you're trapped and alone, even when you can leave your room.
Tuesday Somewhat Less Bloody Tuesday
If worst came to worst, I could live here. Probably not in Provo, but in Salt Lake or maybe Ogden. There is a beauty here, even behind the artificial exteriors of malls, chain restaurants, starbux and more, the country of Utah has an amazing mixture of nature.
The women here are refreshing as well. There seems to be a great deal of gorgeous women all around. Let me take that back, there are a great deal of pretty/hot women here. Gorgeous says too much and should be reserved for a select group of people and things. Whatever the case, these women were, more often than not, more attractive than what is offered in Eugene. Some would argue that this is not an amazing claim. Respectfully noted. On the other hand, it is important to note, and somewhat troublesome to the menfolk of Eugene.
Save for one small problem.
This whole religious thing. The appeal of a foul-mouthed alcoholic must not be very high to these women. My only hopes, if I was even entertaining any, would be to find the small percentage of unholy women, or a holy rebellious woman that desires to misbehave.
Oh what great odds these are!
What am I doing? Honestly, am I lamenting about my inabilities to find an LDS whore?
In America they have LSD whores,
In Utah they have LDS whores!
What a country!!
These mountains are amazing. They, at night, fill the horizon in a most ominous manner, reflecting the slightest moonlight back up at the sky for perhaps the most interesting nights. They also make me wonder how and why we exist. What this land looked like before, before commercialism, civilization, before imperialism, before man. I wonder what the American Indian nations that inhabited this area thought. Maybe they didn't. Why did the LDS come here? Was this a hotbed of resources? Were their women hot back then too?
Flight is at the same time horrible and wonderful. I could go on, but what's the point?
I feel reborn, I need to be reborn.
I miss home, but don't want to return...
San Francisco is shiny and, by far, my least favorite part of this journey. The highlight has been the fact that my neighboring seat is unoccupied.
We were supposed to leave at 6:07pm and were already behind schedule when we began boarding. Amazingly, we were all on board by 6:05. It is now 6:20 and we are still sitting at the gate because someone(s) can't count. I watched a woman show 9 ticket stubs to prove she was on the right flight. It was a discrepancy of 1.
Movement at 6:24.
This is my second flight in this plane, this very plane. In fact, this is my second in this seat, in this plane. I am in fact now being pressurized for others' comfort and safety. I saw a 12 year old boy wearing camoflauge pajamas and a cartoon t-shirt take the emergency exit row seat.
"That's what I want my life to depend on," I mentioned to someone in front of me.
She returned a quizzical face and I assumed her stupid. After all, she was traveling to Eugene...and wearing a pink jump suit.
She also possessed another unique quality that said more than she knew. She had a southern drawl. She had mentioned that she lived in L.A., I wasn't sure if she was from there originally, or lived there now, and I didn't care. I just didn't understand the drawl. Many, many, many people in this region possess a drawl and are not even from the South or anywhere near the South.
My ass stinks.
I noticed it a few minutes ago, but i was on a roll with that whole pink jump suit debacle, so i let it go, but I'm pretty sure this is serious. The seat next to me doesn't smell too bad, so it must honestly be me and my rump region, to be specific.
I need to shower.
To shower? Does anyone say that? Is that actually the correct way to need a shower?
I don't carry petty cash. I find it banal. I am attempting to alter the way people see money. That being said, I detest plane rides and their insistence that I pay 5 dollars for a drink. Or, for that matter, 10 for a drink that tastes right. Thus i am stuck with the air travel standard.
Ginger Ale.
unfinished
