Public spontaneous pillow fight. Now that's my kind of fun.

The latest rendition of the "flash mobs" phenomenon is one of public pillow fights. Ya just gotta love that, right? Excerpt from the rules: No hard pillows! Only hit people with pillows! Don't hit people with cameras!

Somebody spot me some cash…

Here's the thing. I need to buy Brian Eno's synthesizer. It would make a really great christmas present for me. Please?

Coverpops

Welcome to the world of Cover Pops, a concept developed by artist Jim Bumgardner. Just look at this coverpop of MAD Magazines. It's pretty engrossing. If you want to know "why? how? what?!" as I instantly did, go check out the faq

Mick turns 40. Film at 11.

People—I have just had the most excellent 40th birthday…season. One of the things I like about my Oct. 25 birthday is that is five days after my sweetie's and seven days before Halloween. Lots to do. And it's in the height of autumn, my favorite season. Until Spring, that is.

Well, I turned 40 this year. No real drama to speak of. I think it's too easy to dwell on these things, and I've probably done my share of hand-wringing over it in the "lead-up," but not really so much. I mean—what do they say?—beats the alternative. Yup!

And I've got so many friends. They threw me a surprise party under the devious organization of Lucy. Back to that later.

There was breakfast at the Meadowthorpe Café; there was the New Pornographers (early, true, but I really highly encourage you, gentle reader, to celebrate your birthday season.) There was Lucy's birthday. There was a trip to the drive-in.

And there was my wonderful and rainy actual birthday which featured thrift store visits and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Then sushi and friends. And, as I said, then there was the surprise party. Which didn't come until friday, just long enough that I didn't suspect a single thing. I mean—hadn't I already had quite enough fun for one person? Well, I've always been a bit of a glutton for fun.

So, friday, the plan was to meet Jennifer and Travis for a drink, which sounded like plenty of fun. I was kind of stressed because of my impending yard sale, the next morning. Ad in the paper, yada yada. Had to do it! Lucy had proclaimed repeatedly her desire to go out dancing to The Big Maracas, Lexington's fine fine salsa/samba outfit down at The Dame. I had been caterwauling about the yard sale, the yard sale, but in the end had finally conceded that dancing seemed like a better idea than walking around Bassett house, wringing my hands over the coming morning.

We walked the breezy fall night air stream a few blocks to The Dame and right inside the door, a chorus of mashed-up "Surprise!" and "Happy Birthday!" And—I've got to tell you—I didn't know what to think. My first thought was "Oh! How nice to have everybody at the bar wish me a happy birthday. I wonder how they pulled that off…"

Stupid…

So let me get this straight—
Originally uploaded by mrtoastey.

I actually had to first realize that I knew basically every person I saw, and then talk to a couple of people before grasping that this was a surprise party for me. My next thought was: Woo-hoo! TT was there to instantly hand me a Gin and Tonic. T'ank yoo, dahlink…

The rest of the night was spent dancing and laughing and talking. Well, here's some pictures, if you're curious. Oh yeah—I got to bed at about 3am, got up at 5:30pm and shagged my sorry ass over to Bassett for my yard sale. Hurtin'!

Of course, it was so very worth it.

Thanks to all my wonderful friends. Thank you!

Western Omelette

Western Omelette
Originally uploaded by mrtoastey.

Had a fabulous weekend in Northern Kentucky seeing The New Pornographers at the Southgate House. Wheeee!

In between, we had time to eat at two of Newport/Covington's legendary 24-hour diners, The Anchor and The Pepper Pod, bot of which are featured in this story.

The girls here, in rare "morning-after" form, at The Pepper Pod in Newport.

I've been perusing Edward Weston books lately, and am rethinking what I toss and what I keep. I think I have plenty of "Smile!" pictures. Alternately, I love this picture because of the variety of expressions on the girls' faces… Thanks, ladiez!

Additional note: Mary and I had been to the Pepper Pod merely six hours before this, on a late-night breakfast binge. Upon crashing and getting up with the rest of the posse, we shrugged and headed back for another round of eggs!

Susan & Karen's Wedding — photos on Flickr and Kodak Gallery!

Hi Friends:

Here are my pictures from Susan & Karen's Wedding, in Provincetown, on Cape Cod. Words can barely do the occasion justice, so I'm trying 170 photos instead. I hope you'll comment, name people (I am woefully ill-informed about many people's names, sorry!) and generally enjoy reliving Susan & Karen's wedding.

NOTE: I decided to put the pix on flickr.com because it's a more "social" site. However—flickr isn't geared towards ordering prints. With that in mind, I've ALSO posted the pictures—no commentary, and less comment options—on the print-oriented site, Kodak Gallery, where you can easily order prints of shots you want. NOTE: you will have to create an account to order prints, I beleive. To order prints (remember—FIRST go to Flickr to see the pictures, and to comment and see other people's comments), click here.

And if you have any questions, leave a comment below or email me directly.

Also, I'll be posting a truncated version of Mick & Lucy's Cape Cod Adventure soon. But right now, the stars are Susan & Karen!

thinking about the wedding.

Headed back from a wonderful—more wonderful by far than I previously imagined—trip to Cape Cod.

The Wedding of Susan and Karen, I will always have for my own, I feel. Yesterday, at the post-wedding day brunch (where I ate a sumptuous—though dubious—"South Beach"-friendly breakfast of barbecue, fruit, and bacon), Karen—as gracious as hosts come—shoved her own certain fatigue aside and patrolled the house contantly with a smile and a hug saying: "How are you? Can I get you anything?" Karen manages affability as a science and warmth as a craft. Which is a silly way of saying that she's a very special and friendly person. And Susan, I already knew I liked Susan. The other day, she said that we must have been "separated at birth" because we are contantly finding similar ideosyncracies, the sum of which has irreversibly led to our friendship. (Starting immediatley upon meeting, when we agreed that, not only did we not like Goat cheese, but we had both had people frequently disbelieve us and say 'Oh, you just haven't had good goat cheese.' People! Don't like it! Have tried it plenty!) So I'm always happy to see Sue. And to see Sue happy—tearfully happy—well, it was quite contagious for many people there in Provincetown.

I could say "the wedding was beautiful," and that would certainly be true. It was visually one of the most beautiful weddings I've ever seen, at the base of the Pilgrim Monument (surely a sign of tolerance), under streaming Autumn sunlight, amid a riot of flowers and a clutch of friends and family.

But it was more than beautiful.

It was so deeply meaningful and touching. It's hard not to become strident, (though to their credit, they didn't) or to preach (which they also didn't), but I want to say this: I don't know how anybody could spend any time with these two women and not wish for two people who love each other to be happy and be married. If there are such people, —and according to the newspapers, there are—what a colossal waste of energy. Anyone who even bothers to take the time to disapprove of gay people getting married ought to try making a more productive contribution to society. See, here I go getting strident. And I don't want to. Because, even though it was about that, it wasn't about that. It was about two people who love each other getting married and celebrating their love. It was about a bunch of their frends coming to witness that and wish them well.

And a lot of those friends are my friends now. And isn't it always nice to have a new friend? I think it is.

from up high, too

from up high, too
Originally uploaded by mrtoastey.

P-town from the top of the Pilgrim Monument, a spectacular, concentric circle hike up up up to the top of the sky. the Fast Ferry comes into the piers regularly... when my ferry sailed in, on of the Greenpeace ships was docked. It was surprisingly moving to see this sight; a huge ship in the service of defending environmental rights against assorted corporate interests, sometimes with their very lives, as Greenpeace workers know too well. Having read about Greenpeace ships having been actually attacked on the open sea, I found it unexpectedly moving to see this ship. I didn't manage to get back to the pier for a tour. Another "next time" event.

from up high

from up high
Originally uploaded by mrtoastey.

didn't get to see any whales or dead pilgrims, but that's for next time. we're coming back... so many reasons… one of them is the rails to trails path which runs all the way up the cape.. this could be a future Very Long Bike ride... imagine: accomodations in p-town, and a long bike ride to get there up the cape on a no-cars bike path. that sounds like a plan.

Andy has a brainstorm

Andy has a brainstorm
Originally uploaded by mrtoastey.

Nobody wears a dusk tree like Andy. The wedding was on top of p-town at the Pilgrim Monument, offering a panoramic view of p-town and some fabulous evening light.

today, lucy and I have been venturing back across the Cape, slowly making it back to Boston, the plane(s) and "the real world." But on the way we've seen seals, the Marconi monument to the first transatlantic radio broadcast (from the US, that is), much marshland, and lucy has found some special rocks.

"i love the flower girl"

"i love the flower girl"
Originally uploaded by mrtoastey.

That's a quote from the Edison Lighthouse song, which I also love. There are lighthouses here on cape cod. what a wonderful thing. Lucy, with help from Chris makes the flowers happen for Susan and Karen's wedding. They were so wonderful, that Christian, the big-city wedding planner marveled upon finding out that Lucy was NOT a professional wedding florist. Hear that, Lucy? Good work, grr-frien'...

The Dunes

The Dunes
Originally uploaded by mrtoastey.

I love Provincetown. It is officially one of my favorite places. It took me a bit to admit this, because of my typical need to see the crassness of many destinations. But Provincetown won me over quick. The delight of a place where so many people can feel at ease about who they are on the inside is a wonder. Couple that with some of the most beautiful coastline, and not a MacDonalds to be seen anywhere, and what's not to like. Bikes, dykes, and what's not to likes? (okay that was dumb)

Susan and karen

Susan and karen
Originally uploaded by mrtoastey.

Many more pictures to come.

We're delighting in Cape Cod. We've rented a tandem bike, and biked the National Seashore, through the most glorious dunes, we've walked the wonderful streets of p-town, we've been blessed enough to take part in a beautiful and important same-sex wedding of two wonderful people. I'm extra happy to be alive today.

a morning in P-Town

It is lovely here. not just the surroundings, but the general demeanor. it's hard not to be happy among the sea-blasted woodiness of cape cod and the streaming morning sun as it beams down on cranberrry bushes and marigolds. Did I mention that it's beautiful?

There's a joy in the air, or I'm imagining things.

The rainbow is the favorite color of p-town and I'm glad. People are fabulously happy here. Not "leave us alone we're on vacation privately" happy, but "hey how are you we're on vacation, too" happy. Right now a group of nearly a dozen walks down the shoulder, headed off to the diminishing tip of the horn of the Cape. I just realized that mostly I'm seeing adults, although there are kids here, too.

The only sadness was waking up in our tiny charming room at The Dunes and having Lucy be gone, off to work on the flowers for Susan and Karen's wedding, today at 2:30. Last night was the rehearsal dinner, but really more of a friends party, a family party, a gathering of loved ones. And listening to Susan and Karen each speak about how happy it made them for us to come here for their wedding and how happy it made them to get married made me wonder why on earth anyone would wish ill on anybody of any color or any gender or any disposition, who wanted—really wanted—to marry somebody else. It's an act of the most profound and genuine love, from where I sit here this morning—on a deck, with the breeze whipping around flags of the US, Canada, Portugal and the nation of those who are different, the rainbow flag, symbolizing, almost certainly better than any of the others, the union of "all the colors of the rainbow." This morning I defer to that flag more than ever before.

Cape Coddled!

Here I am sitting at the seaport in boston waiting for my ship to come in. Okay, it's already here and it's not a ship. It's a ferry to Provincetown. But I am waiting for a shrimp cocktail, if that counts. It's sea-related, right? Right.

Flyiing into boston harbor, we passed over this outcropping of rocks with an old lighthouse on it. the kind of thing you'd see in—I don't know—a movie trying to establish it's eastern seaboardness. It was one of those almost fictional sights, that isn't fiction. It could have been abandoned, though.. There was something so staged looking. I guess it's similar to the Dust-Blowed Desert Gas Station; these are things that a Kentucky native kind of only sees on TV.

Well, I didn't mention—I'm going to a lesbian wedding in Provincetown, Mass. To get there, I drove to Louisville, flew to NY, flew to Boston, took the water taxi to the seaport, and now I'll take the Fast Ferry to P-Town. This definitely fills my recommended daily allowance of unusual transportation options. which always a plus, as far as i'm concerned. I love traveling.

Black Metal for Dummies

In shallow guilt over the lack of a blog post in a little while, I offer Black Metal for Dummies, an explanation of the look behind all your favorite drano-voiced goth crunchers.

New art by Mr. Shambhu, here in Lex!

The wonderful James Shambhu—who's such a friend of mine that I call him Jim—has been hard at work and is displaying new work at New Editions Gallery in Lexington. In addition to his distinctive style and vibrant colors, you'll find fascinating titles like:

"She looked at him with a blank stare. Then suddenly the gravity of the situation hit her.

She sat down quietly."

Mushroom Tuesday Portrait

Mushroom Tuesday Portrait
Originally uploaded by mrtoastey.

Click on the picture to read the story of The Tuesday Mushroom.

The Dame gets bitch-slapped

An open letter to Cole Skinner, former Manager of The Dame:

Cole:

I was so goddamned bummed to read the Herald-Leader news of the management and staff changes at The Dame, the downtown club that you and your staff have worked so hard to build into a premier venue for local and national music acts. Beyond that, The Dame quickly became a favored place to meet up with friends, to laugh, to socialize, and to generally lighten the daily load. What a terrible blow for downtown Lexington night life to lose your management of that venue as well as the capable and friendly hands within.

However, I am so very grateful for the magic that you brought to Lexington with that club. You really filled a gap, Cole—one that had been festering and hurting in downtown since the closing of the legendary Wrocklage, so many years ago. Some of the success was location, but much of it was your manner and charm—and booking—that made The Dame feel like home. All of which I suppose will no longer be present in "Dame 2.0" or whatever the fuck those bonehead Atlanta owners call it.

I want to loudly and plainly say "thank you, Cole." I wish you the very best of luck in your next venture, and can only hope (somewhat vainly) that it is in Lexington.

Best wishes,

Mick

Please kneel slightly to receive things

Please kneel slightly to receive things
Originally uploaded by doctor paradox.

Not all pictogram signs are entirely clear, are they?

Rae Kicks Mountain Bike Ass! Film at 11.

One of my pals just completed the most amazing endeavor. I'm so awed by it!

Rae Gandalf—who some of you may know from "back in the day"—has moved on to a fascinating career as a Veterinarian, and sometimes posts emails with stories of pulling a gorilla's tooth, or x-raying an Elephant or what-have-you. But this latest thing—wowza! Rae was recuited to participate in the Santa Cruz Bikes Hellride 2, a competition that pits "amateur" (I use that time very loosely) mountain bikers with world-class pros for the chance to win the bike they ride—if they can only keep up on…the HELLRIDE!

Well, Rae kept up. No surprise to those of us who know her. But what a feat! And of course, an entertaining account, because she's also a wonderful writer. So click here to read Rae's account of her adventure!

If you want to congratulate her, email her!

Jill's pix of the Jennifer & Travis wedding weekend!

I'm going to keep posting people's albums as the come in so check back to see who else has posted pix. also: if you're planning on posting pix, please email me a link!

Here are Jill's Pix.

New Shambhu in the Lou!

He's my friend, an esteemed colleague, and last—and certainly not least—he's a distinctive and gifted artist.

So isn't it about time for some new work by Jim Shambhu? You bet it is!

Which is why I'm happy to pass on that Jim has a new show hanging at the ArtBeat Gallery in Louisville!

Pix from Mary's Thursday night

c'mon let's twist!
Originally uploaded by mrtoastey.

here's a few (very few) pix from Mary's and the Travis & Jennifer BBQ Bonanza! Plenty of cameras around so I actually focused on having fun. Thus the shortage of shots. Scroll down for a link to other wedding day shots by Anessa!

Lucy loves Mick

Lucy loves Mick
Originally uploaded by Anessa.

Anessa took a buncha pix at Jennifer & Travis' wedding, y'all. click here to see more!

Ashes-to-Fireworks Send-Off for Hunter S.

Six months, to the day, after his death, the Gonzo king, Hunter S. Thompson gets his ashes shot up into the sky with fireworks. Here's the coverage from the NY Times.

Even better, gonzo lovers, is this Flickr photo gallery of the funeral itself, which was underwritten by fellow Kentuckian Johnny Depp.

"An Einstein of Music" Bob Moog - R.I.P.

No matter what kind of music you like, Bob Moog touched it. The inventer of the Moog synthesizer was an unintentional architect of electronic music and all its myriad variations. He was a giant. If you want to know more, check out the the movie about him. Or listen to this NPR Fresh Air interview and here's an NPR feature marking his passing. Go put on your favorite: Switched on Bach, Parlament-Funkadelic, Kraftwerk, Electric Skychurch… It's hard to even consider overviewing. Moog's contribution can be heard on literally thousands records. But just for starters there was: 808 State, Abba, Bronski Beat, The Boards of Canada, Devo, Chick Corea, REO Speedwagon, Depeche Mode, Jean Michel Jarre, Kraftwerk, Emerson, Lake & Palmer, Herbie Hancock, Michael Jackson, Chic, Rush, Yes, Gary Numan, The Orb, Pere Ubu, The Prodigy, Pulp, Sun Ra, Nine Inch Nails, Bis, The Shamen, Stereolab, Tangerine Dream, Vangelis, Missing Persons, Kool and the Gang, Steve Winwood, Bernie Worrell, Pink Floyd. Add yr. own faves and Bob Moog, R.I.P.

This moment…

The sky was full of those rolling clouds, the kind that are a wonder to look at, as they tumble by, but also suggest that you may soon be running for cover. That breeze—it didn't really do much except blow the heat from here to there, which was nonetheless helpful.

In the fire-engine red vintage Bonneville convertible, the bride sat next to me, crouched down so nobody would see her…just yet. "Wow, I'm getting married in a minute," she noted, combining clinical observation with wry enthusiasm, as is her custom. I sat behind the wheel and nodded and breathed in the air. "Yep." I smiled at her, as is my custom.

Then the bride got out of the car, and got married.

---

"Here we are now, soon it will be then,
It's nothing more, nothing less than the place that we are in
This moment will never come again
I know it because it has never been before
And I listen to the wind, And I see the trees are shaking..."

"This Moment" Victoria Williams

Dog Day Kitty

Dog Day Kitty
Originally uploaded by mrtoastey.

My cat is the Master of Window Slumber.

Hobo Convention in progress!

Ever since I found out that there was an annual Hobo Convention in Britt, Iowa, I've been curious. Apparently, Britt is some kind of Hobo Capital of the World.

Maybe next year I'll go. If you're curious about what, exactly, a hobo is, then look no further. (note: you may have to scroll down a bit)

Elizabethtown

For those of you wondering how Kentucky will next be portrayed by Hollywood, here's the trailer for "Elizabethtown," Cameron Crowe's new flick starring Orlando Bloom and Kirsten Dunst. Release date: October 14

There's also a montage bit (to Elton John) with some Kentucky sights for you to identify, including a sign for Ear X-tacy in Louisville. PS: the movie was also shot in Versailles, among other places.

Looks like a typical kind of Cameron Crowe thing—comin' of age, findin' love 'n' growin' up. Not that there's anything wrong with that—See Fast Times at Ridgemont High, Say Anything, or Almost Famous much? I would also throw in roughly half of Jerry Maguire.

Actually—it usually seems that CC is great for about half of any given movie (excluding Almost Famous). Take your pick.

Dude. Check it out.

I think this is overdu(d)e.

A scholarly investigation of the American use of the word "dude." Linguist Deciphers Uses of Word 'Dude'

My Dream…

I tell you—we are in the Fido Days of Summer. And in the late afternoon, I frequently require a nap in The Chamber. See, in my house, two rooms are AC—my office and my bedroom. So when I take a nap, I go to The Chamber.

Today I woke up after a surprisingly long (hour and a half) and deep sleep, and I remembered this dream:

I was at some sort of outdoor banquent, on a pretty day. I was clustered with others, around the fringes of a long dining table, with silverware and china, and we hadn't sat down yet. We were waiting for Ronald Reagan to arrive. When a golf cart pulled up—or maybe it was an army jeep—Ronald Reagan got out and he was youthful and lucid, kind of like a 1980 Reagan. He waved one of those "I'm running for president" high-up waves, and I made a break for him, with my camera in hand. All around, people—including me—were exclaiming in surprise: "Oh, he looks great!" Everybody was surprised that Reagan wasn't completely senile from Alzheimers. As I approached him, he was looking right at me and held out his decent little point-and-shoot camera, wanting me to hold it while he examined my new camera. He didn't even ask to see it, but I could tell he was delighted with it, so I handed it right to him. He admired it and then handed it back to me and got back into the jeep, and was driven off. Then I realized I still had his camera. I reported this to some nearby military types and a jeep was sent over to pick me up so I could return Reagan's camera. The MP driver was kind of bitter. He drove us out of this valley up this impossibly steep hill. I was kind of concerned, because it was a manual transmission and this hill was really steep. He was cursing under his breath, saying things like "this is what I gotta deal with…" Meaning: assorted errands and grunt work.

I woke up before I could find Reagan and give him his camera back.

Cafe Del Mar

A quick shout-out ot Cafe Del Mar, my wi-fi and double-espresso source!

Headed back inland

Probably no surprise, but since arriving at the Beach, I just haven't had time from blogging. Plenty of time to sit around lolling in a beach chair, though. Luckily for my leisure, the laptop fears the sand, so she no go to da beach! It's been delightful here in Wrightsville Beach. We're getting ready to head inland, Lucy and I, to take the long way home. I'm becoming a big fan of this, and have nearly comcluded that every bit of driving stress can be attributed to some aspect of Interstate driving—the trucks, traffic stop-ups, road work, dickheads, you name it. Most of these things, not found on the back roads!

A quick shout out to pal Jessie, who loves Wrightsville Beach! It's hot here, Jessie Lou! A hunnerd, nearly!

So we're gonna split for cooler climes. (no, it's not just that. it's a recurring thing called "work," too, calling us back to Lex) Hopefully some more adventures in the Pisgah Mountains, the Blue Ridge, "Mountain Mama," etc.

Oh, funny thing—I was searching for some jernt for us to get some fine fine North Carolina barbecue as we venture along, and got one of those automated banner ads that said the most ridiculous thing: "North Carolina Barbecue: Huge selection of new & used. Check out the deals now! www.ebay.com"

Chester and PICTURES

A town called Chester.

Something has always appealed to me abut this name. And Chester was a great uncle of mine. (and I'd be remiss, if I didn't mention that Hustler magazine had a regular comic called "Chester the Molester," and I know this because my middle school best friend Tim and I used to sneak into his basement to read his dad's rather extensive collection.)

Anyway—Chester, SC. I drove through last night and was surprised by the fanciness of it. Lots of of big old antebellum houses, dense treed lawns, a town square, etc. Even at 9 pm, you can see that these people are pretty darned proud of their town. Chester is also the home of a major branch of the SC DOT clean-up facilities. Which explains why the place smells a great deal like fresh paint.

Today, I'm headed to the beach. Huntington Beach, hopefully, which looked dreamy last year, when they turned me away (they were full) despite intense begging and nicing. This year, I'm trying to call ahead, but I keep getting a busy signal. Hoping for the best.

(editors' note: I didn't get there. I called and they were booked! Next year, I'm really calling ahead. I've changed the plan, and after a fabulous drive through rural SC, I'm heading to Wilmington, to meet up with Sweet Lucy, and the Points clan.)

Anyway, I've put some pictures up.

Traveling the scenic by-ways with Mick

Let's talk about Monday—Monday was about Asheville and the fabulous State Road 74-A with some Blue Ridge Parkway thrown in for good measure.

Woke up at the decent, but forgettable—what's it called?—ha ha—Lake Powhatan and packed it up quickly to search for a coffee shop in Asheville. When I told a record store clerk—never ask a record store clerk anything by the way—to point me to an area with "freaky, hippy, bohemian restaurants," he said, "pretty much that's all of Asheville." I would have to disagree, but the concentration is surprising. After a couple of hours at a communist bookstore (always a treat), I hit the road and made the first of two driving errors. Neither one were major, but I was a little pissed that I somehow got off course each time by about 15 miles. I love following maps and, folks, some placees the roads are marked more clearly than other places.

Wait—I'm writing to you from inside my tent at Chester State Park. It's too fucking hot to write in this tent at 10:30pm. I'll continue in the morning, if I haven't turned into a puddle.

++++++++++++++++++++++++

Okay, last night was a hot one. At least to be in a tent. What I want, I've decided is one of those pop-up trailers. Some guy told me to go to folddowntrailers.com. Shoulda known that would exist.. (ps: it doesn't. I looked)

anyway, I'm at Waffle House a few miles up the road from Chester. And I'm a fugitive from the law. Yep. Skipped out on my camping bill. Hey, hold your judgment, a minute! It was funny—twice yesterday, the rangers waved me off when I tried to pay. At first I thought they were just being inexplicably samaritanly, but the second time I realized it was more of a laziness ("we'll getcha later, son...") So, this morning, I was packed up and showered and they hadn't "got me." On the way out the gate, I found myself driving past a ranger, and so I rolled down the window and did my best SC y'all drawl: "don't y'want want me to pay ya?!" He smled back and said: "We didn't get ya last night?" Nope, I said. And he mulled this over and said "It's $14.59." Aw, man… I thought—because, for some reason, I thought that it was $7. And I knew I only had $8. I fumbled around for my checkbook, half knowing that I didn't have it. I have to confess: I was secretly hoping that he would say "don't worry about it; we'll see ya next time." But no! Finally, I was mumbling about a cash machine, and allowin' as how I reckoned I could go down the road 5 miles to the BP, which I meant to do, I really did! Which as you read this, I didn't do. My rationalization: I can mail it later. I really hope I do that.

This fugitive stuff is exhausting.

Some South Carolina for y'all

this time it's outside of chester, SC. I landed here as if by design, after a botched attempt at going elsewhere.

Anybody thing the worlds too crowded for creepy desolation? I give you Woody Haven Recreation Area, sitting all by itself at the edge of the Sumter National Forest. This was my desstination, according to my trusty "Camping in the Carolinas" book, which has never failed me.. until now.

An unbelievable number of tunrs after I crossed the Carolina border, I finally arrived at the campground at about 7:15, or right on time, as we like to say.

The thing was—there was one shirtless guy there, with his pickup truck and a tent. Now, granted, I'm merely one shirted guy with his station wagon and a tent, but I had my doubts. I was prepared to stay, but there was something offputting about the place. Some desperation there. Maybe it was the decimation caused by the fir beetle plague that had struck here (many downed fir trees) or the fact that a forest fire was evident in the recent past, or the lack of another living soul… or maybe it was just the one shirtless guy.

Anyway, I split. I couldn't level the tent, so I split. The thing was, I had repeatedly considered going to Chester, because there was a state park there, and—you know— the dot on the map looked promising, and—hey—it's a place called Chester. So I hopped back into the very nicely-behaving Ms. Volvo (btw, she threatened to overheat at the desolation campground—bad sign) and we headed down the road about another half hour and had no problem finding Chester State Park, where the super waved me off when I asked to pay, and told me I could just pop the pin out of the park gate if I got back after they closed it. Did I mention that the place is a paradise of spruce trees, on a lake, with just enough campers to remove the creepy but not too many.. One thing: it is damned hot here. Shit, it's hot. I'm thinking about sleeping in the lake.

The Unbearable Strangeness of Being

The Unbearable Strangeness of Being
Originally uploaded by mrtoastey.

Be sure to arrange your miniature collection of collectable figurines as strangely as possible. Note: This may be the result of a combination of too much refined sugar and carbon monoxide, both of which are abundantly available on Main Street in Gatlinburg, TN.

Down at "The Christian Store"

Down at "The Christian Store"
Originally uploaded by mrtoastey.

Gatlinburg, people. This is what we're fighting for. Gatlinburg.

What Would Jesus Do? I don't think he would do this.

The Future of Camping and Computers

So I'm sitting at a campsite, next to the volvo, outside of Ashville NC, with my friggin' laptop. don't worry—there's no wireless. It hasn't happened. Yet. but it will, my digi-toads, it will.. Last year, this time, i wound up camped in South Carolina next to some fella who worked for the phone company, and he was sportin wireless, right there fireside... was i lustful? Yes I was. But here and now—the peace, the quiet.. the tap-tap-tap of my aluminum keyboard? no complaints!

Today has been a day of no talking—something generally only accomplished by traveling solo. Took a wing-ding journey across the Smokies, from g-burg down to cherokee, and the car, she only overheat once. And i may sound overly casual—and i like to think I was for the most part—but, a boiling radiator? that's the stuff that makes yr. back tight.. at least mine. Trouble is, I can't remember if it was like this last year, auto-wise. My car, she no like zee big hill. And I hope that's all it is.. All I know is, about a quarter mile from the top of what may or may not be called Beech Flats Prong, I decided to pull over, due to the temperature gauge finally, inexorably, regrettably going climbing undeniably into the red. I said: "red is red. pull 'er over." and did exactly that at the next lovely pulloff—just me and some bikers. As I sailed ini, I was dismayed to see steam sailing out of the hood. And even more dismayed to oop said hood and find a fizzing, angry burbling radiator plume; but—know what?—nothing was busted. I could see that. So I cooled my heels and so did my Volvo girl. I took some of my spare time and followed the martian green radiator dribble trail to the edge of the pulloff and decided that dearest fate had held off this engine violence until the last possible minute. Because I couldn't see a trail leading out onto the actual highway;. That means that if I had driven even 10 more feet, something much more dramatic might have happened. As it turned out, I sat next to a waterfall, took some pictures, glanced over my maps and then we were all rested up and ready to move on. Hooray!

And there's been no real trouble since. A couple of places on the Blue Ridge Parkway where some heat was building up. but this road was made for pulling over and so I did that, and just 5 minutes here and there was glorious for everybody involved.

And so, Sunday was about having that lovely drive that is the Blue Ridge Parkway. There is nothing more glorious. A winding road that ribbons along the ridge, free of advertising, free of commerce, free of angry drivers. Full of blooming mountain laurel, volunteer day lillies, rhododendron, and endless vistas that tell you in a glance why they're called "the blue ridge mountains."

It's easy to be startled with delight, i think, over and over on this magical road. I had a particular moment, somewhere near Mount Pisgah, when I saw sky through the trees on the left and a panorama to the right. I understood for one special moment that I was really and truly driving along an edge of the world, the actual ridge of the Blue Ridge. It was like being sucked straight up in an instant to some stratospheric vantage point, looking down at a moving dot on a map. That dot would be my grey volvo!

I stopped at Mt. Pisgah Inn, delighted with the knowledge (for my car) that it was quite literally all downhill from there) and considered dining. Actually I was looking forward to the lodge dining experience, but it turns out that this lodge has gone a bit hoity and was quite booked up for dinner (with a line) and $20 entrees and whatnot. No problem. Moving on is the name of the game with this trip, so I stopped in at the desk to ask some route advice.

The jolly desk guys were worth the trip alone. If you can be that happy at work, why not, then? If you hate your job, just know this: some people don't. These guys didn't. After singing a bar or two of the Hokey Pokey (don't know why) and cajoling me to take their pictures with a couple of strangers politely minding their own bizness, they gave me some very unusual directions: "Why don't you go to Lake Powhatan? Just go up the parkway about 14 miles. Look for an unmarked turnoff on the right. It's easy to miss. That leads you to a dirt road, turn right, and that dirt road goes down to Lake Powatan. Or if you want to go to Mills River (my old place), just turn left on the dirt road."

Yeah, right.

Would you take that kind of directions? I couldn't be sure if I would or not, but as I drove away, smirking, I kept one eye on the odometer and the other on the right side of the road... And there it was…

I turned off, thinking "this can't be it. He said 14 miles and it's only been 11." But looking at his scrawl, the name was right: Bent Creek Gap. So I turned right onto this dirt road, angled steeply down, actually cut the engine (gravity was doing the trick just fine) and drove into the gaping maw of the Bent Creek Experimental Forest.

What do you think happened? Well, you're reading this, silly—I wound up at Lake Powhatan,. just like he said. The funny thing was I came out of this service road and had to pick a direction to the park. I picked the wrong way, though, and sensing this, stopped and asked some road workers. They said the park was back the other way, and I only realized how weird I might have seemed when—after driving around and getting my bearings—I realized that the road that I approached them on only led to the park. Excluding my "shortcut" 15 mile dirt road, I couldn't have been coming from anywhere but the park. and yet, I was asking them "which way to the park?" They must have thought I was nuts,

More adventures tomorrow (or tonight) kids!

Summer vacation, part 2

Well, I know I've been out of school for a good many years, but I'm just not willing to give up on the idea of summer vacation. I think the dirtiest trick played on any child is keeping them in the dark about the fact that summer vacation doesn't exist for adults. What a load.

And it should, too. Wouldn't we all be happier if we got the summer off? What exactly is the point of all this work work workin? Really, I ask you.

So the point is—I'm not giving up on the dream. Which is why I'm about to give you the account of my second 2005 summer trip. Don't hate me! Just go on a trip yourself, fool. Or get a job as a teacher so you can have summers off, right? That's what I'm thinkin'…

So what follows, then is the infrequent documenting of The Carolina Way 2005.

As always thank you so much for reading my blog. Thank you!

The Great Western Way in Pictures

If you're really crazy enough to want to look, my recent trip out west is now fully documented—El Complete-O—in pictures with snappy commentary and you can see them here.

Warning: there are 200+ but you know they're great…

The Fading Cocktail Nation

On the way back from The San Diego Trip, TT and groused over the state of America's airports, in terms of drinking and such. A warning: Soon it will be illegal to have any fun at all.

True, this: We were on separate flights, leaving at almost exactly the same time, albeit from different terminals, around 9:30pm, and we were not allowed to consort beyond the x-ray machines. Boolsheet, I say!

Once we went our separate ways, turns out all the bars were already closed anyway. Without a doubt, many airports seem to be shutting down their bars earlier and earlier—when you can find one at all. And if ever there was a place for a cocktail, it's an airport, dammit.

Later—much later—I had a 5am layover in Chicago-O'Hare. Of course, everything's closed. Never mind that there are potential customers galore just shuffling around, bleary-eyed, over-commuted. Am I the only one who sees a problem here? Don't get me started on the Self-Serve Nation, that's a rant for another day. Anyway, I did my part by having a bourbon on the rocks the instant—the second— that the O'Hare Bar opened, which is to say 7:00am. I consider it my civic duty—both to my vacation and to the idea that, once upon a time, leisure was treasured. If you don't like it, you can go to McDonalds, and get a goddamned Diet Coke and an Egg McMuffin. I'll be in the bar.

Answer a Question, Ask a Question...

justcurio.us is a great little idea for modern technology. It's like a cross between an oracle, a confessional and Dear Abby, and it just takes about 30 seconds. And you don't have to provide any personal info. Curious yet?

That's Loretta Lynn!

That's Loretta Lynn!
Originally uploaded by mrtoastey.

Lucy's pix came back from our trip to Owensboro to see the First Lady of Country Music, Loretta Lynn! Mom and Bill were kind enough to pick up the tickets. Thanks!

So she played technically at The Big E, Owensboro silently suffering flagship hotel. I expected the show to be in the Showroom Lounge (where I saw BB King when I was a whippersnapper). But, in fact, Loretta played this big concrete slab convention center type space. Not at all ideal for the Queen! Still, she owned the place. And she looked great doing it. You shoulda seen the dress. Jeezus!

We were in the VIP section, which meant, along with our stacking chairs, we got a folding table, some chex mix, a velvet rope to separate us from the ruffians (oh wait—it was all ruffians), and an unobstructed 20-foot view of the show. Can you say 'awesome?'

Favorite moments:

• Loretta gently curbs a woman who brings a pen and a book up for her to sign mid-song: "Honey, I can't sign that right now. If I did, they'd throw me out, and I wouldn't get paid! And y'all wouldn't get to hear me sing!"
• Loretta plops down in a standard-issue stacking chair, center stage, prom dress 'n' all, and discusses her health: "My nose is runnin… anybody got a kleenex?" With visibly shaking hand ("ohmigod! I'm giving Loretta Lynn a kleenex!), a woman in the front hands her a travel pack. Loretta thanks her, keeps talking, and after some fumbling, exclaims, almost indignant: "Well, I can't open these! Somebody open these!" and passes them off to her keyboard player.
• On separate shouts from the audience to play "Coal Miner's Daughter" and "Van Lear Rose," (the latter from me) Loretta shoots back, "I don't like that song." At the end she mock-begrudgingly goes into CMD, sighing, with resignation: "Alright. Here y'go..."

It was a great time! Thank you, Mom and Bill for helping Lucy and I to fulfill a dream!

Final thoughts on traveling Way Out West

Well, kiddos, I'm back in the Bluegrass, getting back into all manner of work and stuff. Wanted to share a few more pictures from the fabulous trip, and some thoughts.

Had a wonderful time in San Diego, staying at The Sportsman. I'll hopefully go back and visit sometime. Hell, maybe I'll buy the place. Seems like a good career to me. On second thought, maybe not. I would hate to have to look up and down every person who walked through the door, trying to decide if they were going to trash the place.

My last night, I let the girls do their gypsy thing, and I went for one of my trespassing walks. This is where I walk around—by myself—and see what sorts of places I can breeze in and out of without getting detected or, failing that, without getting hassled. Or thrown out. Shelter Island was a great place for that as I power walked through one swanky hotel after another. At one point, I heard a band playing, didn't think much of it, until I notced that between songs, the audience was really going wild. What the hell? I thought… A wedding or something? Turned out, it was Lyle Lovett, who I ended up watching for a couple of songs from the pool balcony of the next door hotel. Huh!

The next day, thanks to cooperation from the girls, we got some tamales! this had been on my list, for sure, and I even had a place in mind. But being July 4th, I was actually surprised at how many places were closed (note: I endorse this. I sure don't want to work on a holiday), including Liz's Tamale Factory. Luckily, down the street was a tamale cart woman!

Later, we saw San Diego's awesome 4th of July fireworks—a computer-controlled 4-site spectacular, with the exact same show being executed at exactly the same time in 4 different locations. Wow! We saw it from out in front of the airport, and I will confess that it's a little unnerving to hear loud explosions while standing at a major international airport. Yep..

After flying out of San Diego, I landed in Chicago, where I had a 3 hour layover. Didn't really see that coming, but I guess I could have looked at the ticket, right? But on the good side, I got in a visit with Helmut Jahn's United Terminal, a festival of lights and sound and architectural coolness.

That's about it, my chilluns! Thanks for reading and don't forget to look at the pictures!