Posted by: chptr37 | 04/07/2009

Pg. 6: T. e. x. a. s.


  • Miles Today: 660
  • Miles Total: 2894
  • From/To: El Paso, Texas to Austin, Texas
  • Slept: Not all that well. It was loud.
  • Soundtrack: Everything. Namely The Killers, Kevin Kinsella, Flogging Molly and Avenue Q.
  • Best Thing: The flautas and pomegranate cosmo at Manuel’s. They were fantastic.
  • Worst Thing: 660 miles. To say my ass was asleep is an understatement.
  • Quote of the Day: Being asked by the guy at the coffee shop, “What can I get for you today, Sir?” despite (or perhaps because of) wearing a skirt and bearing a ponytail. The expression on his face was priceless when he actually looked up and saw me. He was so flustered he couldn’t take my order properly.


More than 650 miles on the road today. I have no pictures because I saw nothing but highway for the most part, plus a few cute little Texas towns on the way to Austin (namely Frederickburg, where my attempt to have my first Sonic banana split was thwarted by a million ginormous trucks in all the parking spaces). I’m wind burnt and sun burnt. I have road rash. My body is pissed at me for sitting too much and moving too little. I am missing my furry fluffball and my friends and loved ones. Not just the ones I left behind, but the ones that I won’t get to see on my way by. Just too many miles to go and not enough time.

Since I’m even more brain-dead than usual, I’m not even going to try and post something articulate, but instead am going to share a poem by my friend and incredible poet Mike Ferguson. He wrote it and sent it to me on my birthday, and he said I could share it, so I’m going to. It feels right for the moment. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

Far and fast (asleep), s.

Road Poem


The spool of thread, of heaven-made thread

It must be or you think, a trick of the devil

Unwinds behind you and tugs softly, occasionally

Like a kite in a light wind

You try tying it to something, the door handle,  the head rest

But somehow it always ends up tangled in the steering wheel

Tug, tug-tug, tug…annoying little bastard, you say out loud

You will cut it many times, even committing over-kill

With a hatchet, near a soybean field in Louisiana on a Wednesday

But it always returns, it won’t go away, it has something to tell you


You have been in foreign lands before, you say

More than most, you say

Very foreign, you add, in every way

You insist, more foreign than this

Then a man, I don’t know his name yet, but an old man

You expected to find here, a minor character

You expected to see on the edge of your sight line

From the moment you arrived but did not

Steps in front of you as if he’d spent his entire life

Traveling to that moment

Maybe he speaks, maybe he doesn’t

But what he says as he reaches into your hair

To gather the thread, to gather the thread is

Welcome Home

He says Welcome Home




  1. Have you ever heard the old saying “good things come to those who wait” and “patience is a virtue?”

    Garbage, all of it, but we’ll see.

    Safe journeys, wherever you end next.

  2. Good? Wait? Patience? Virtue?

    …I don’t know these words…

    Neither do you, I don’t think, so what else ya’ got?

  3. You’re actually in Louisiana on a Wednesday? That’s weird.

  4. Ugh – that’s a lot of miles honey. I hope you’re remembering to take care of yourself!

    I remember the awe I felt the first time my ass fell asleep on a long road trip. No one else in the car was impressed (probably due to various stages of hangovers) but I sure as hell was.

    Keep on truckin’

  5. How was the coffee sir?

  6. Annie: Yep! I also have vivid memories of my first hangover in the car. That. was. bad. Ugh.

    Shawn: The coffee was fab, ma’am. I landed at Caffe Medici. Yummers.

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