Yellow Brick Rodeo
Finally, the blog about my visit to a bright brown ghosttown...
It's hard to believe a whole week has passed since I got back from the show in Amarillo. I mentioned in my previous blog that I had no idea what to expect from Texas, beyond an adventure and a visit with my sweet friend Kirk along the way.
As usual, Kirk was WAY happy to see me.
Since Kirk had been busy with work and had just gotten back into town, himself- so we decided to go out and give one of the local breweries a shot.
Kirk and I have very similar tastes and agreed that Coopersmiths Pub and Brewery makes crap beer (although the food was decent). Fortunately, he had rescue IPA's in the fridge at home. He poured us each a tall cold glass and played songs until we fell asleep on the couch. It was the best sleep I'd had in a long time. We snuck out early the next day and headed for Texas.
The road trip itself was more beautiful than the trip toward Alabama, mostly (no offense to the midwest) because we didn't drive through Kansas. Don't get me wrong, Kansas was actually the friendliest place we visited (cops and bartenders included) but I can only take so many hours of flat sky and flat field spattered with anti-abortion billboards. The road to Amarillo was a little more magical. We saw eight rainbows, hundreds of deer, hailstorms and incredible lightning. We drove through clouds and saw unbelievable starlight.
When we arrived in Amarillo, we called Jojoe and met him down at the venue. This is the venue. And the heart of downtown Amarillo.
It looked to me like a ghost town. I was kinda amazed. All the buildings looked abandoned and there was no one on the street except the occasional stray crackhead. There was some guy yelling from the upstairs window next to the venue ("DON'T YOU DARE TALK SHIT ABOUT SANTA CLAUSE!!!!"...) and of course, Lumpface William, who was around a lot- mostly walking in uninvited to yell at Jojoe, throw benches, feel the boys up, talk about my shorts, start fights, declare that he was Ramrod, make death threats and convince me that I should take advantage of the photo opportunity he was gonna give me because he tried out for the Dallas Cowboys and "should've been famous."
He was around more than some of the dudes that live there.
As we were unloading the shit, Jojoe came into the venue and asked me if I'd hit a bird on the way down. I said, "I think so... why? Is there evidence?" I followed him out to my truck.
The bird's body was literally wrapped around my grill. I was not looking forward to getting it out. We'd hit that thing hundreds of miles ago and pretty much forgotten about it. Fortunately, Jojoe handled that shit. Literally.
My horoscope for the day said someone would do something unexpected but very nice for me. Thanks Jojoe.
Lars, me, Chandler and Jojoe spent the whole afternoon and evening cleaning up the venue (which is half unauthorized rock venue and half artist squat.) The walls were covered with graffiti and the floors were covered with smashed bottles, broken instruments and magic cards. Normally I hate having people around while I'm trying to install, but these guys were very helpful. Muchas Gracias Deli Boys.
There was a (semi) working microwave and a working (pink) flat-iron, but no fridge. Apparently the toilet had been out of commission for some time as well. I peed by a bloody (or possibly shitty?) king sized mattress by the fence while a dog on the other side barked his balls off.
Once we'd gotten all the big junk cleared out and crate papered one of the walls, we decided to call it a night and grab a drink at the local bar before closing so I could meet some of Jojoe's friends. I met some really cool people, some of whom took me to piss out back (since there was apparently a blood, puke, flood and then more puke situation going on in the bathroom. Poor plumber, goddamn.)
Jojoe didn't even go out back. He just pissed on the patio.
One of the highlights of the bar was meeting Jacob, who sat down, thanked me for coming to Texas and then shared his smoke with me. Meeting as many people as I did at the bar that night, I began to feel encouraged about the show. Jacob hung out till we got up to leave and then sent me home with gifts. It totally made my night.
The next morning I headed to the venue to start installing the show. We were greeted by David, the next door neighbor. He told me the guys were sleeping but to "Just go on in!! They're great guys!" I told him I'd rather just wait for Jojoe. He wasn't having any of it. He opened the front door and stuck his head in.
"GABE??!" he yelled. "You got company!" I was totally embarassed and walked away. David tried again to get me to walk on in (to a dark room full of sleeping strangers). I told him I wasn't comfortable barging into a strangers house in the early morning and he shrugged at me and let up.
Jojoe showed up a few minutes later and we got to work. It took us till about 4:30 to finish everything up. (Which included starting a short-shorts alliance with Gabe.)
When we were done, I went to the hotel to shower. At that point I became really nervous. I don't know why, but I always get really anxious before a show. It usually hits me to the point of making me sick. I have to lie down to just focus on breathing and I can't unclench my jaw or stop shaking. I've had so many people say to me that they can't picture me being nervous, scared or insecure. Ha.
The show started and a few of the early comers (as usual) had to help me with the last few parts of set-up (moving couches and tables and such). But I as mostly ready on time. Here are the pics from the show that night. Some very beautiful people in Amarillo.
The Ween Coloring Book table.
(if ya'll want one, you need to go to www.ween.com)
This was the first all ages party I've done. This is the no-drink mark.
Baby Bible Bobble Jeebie came out to play, too.
At one point, Lumpface William brought us this lovely painting from 1989 of cowboy boots, which he retrieved from a nearby dumpster. He was hoping to trade it for the bumper out front that said "Smoke Crack Worship Satan" but the boys weren't willing to make the deal.
Things were kicking off fairly normally when some guy (who's name was Evan/Halo/Something Else I can't remember) approached Gabe and me to appropriately praise the shortness of our shorts. He said something like, "Man, ya'll are making me wanna take my pants off. Should I take my pants off?" Not wanting to shoot him down, Gabe and I said, "Do your thing, chicken wing." He then proceeded to drop his pants. Clearly not an initiate to the Short Shorts gang, being that he was wearing only tighty whities, but an ambiance enhancement, nonetheless.
At that point I realized my new life dream of buying a ranch and having a rolling field of boys wearing extremely short shorts. I would have ladies-only tram rides in which my guests could take pictures, pet and feed candy to my near-pantsless livestock. Why didn't I think of this earlier?
I mean, the truth is, short shorts are undeniably awesome. They're on par with the mustache in my book. Why don't more people roll? Oh the things I learned at catholic school...
Gabe, however, had much to teach ME about the shortness. He will forever be the Godfather of our short shorts gang.
And mucho bueno. Notice how this boy rolled from the top AND the bottom? So adorable. Who doesn't love double trouble? Hopefully I'll be able to recruit him for my Ranch someday.
Me and Mad Dog were kinda matching.
Din Din also gets a super props because he took his pants off and was wearing no underwear. He fashioned a diaper out of someone elses shirt.
The guy rockin' out is Austin. He's SUCH a sweetheart. He bought a painting from me (paid in part with an amazing vortex marble he'd blown himself.)
Jojoe's shadow fairy girlfriend Lily stole his pants. Twice.
As the night went on, so did Evan/Halo/Whateverhisnamewas's enjoyement of his pantslessness.
It was a tiny bit weird. No one knew who this guy was but he was having fun, so whatever. He was MUCH more into his pantslessness than the artwork, but what can ya do?
Sarah the Deaf (STD) is one very cool chick.
Jojo and his new painting. Quite a perfect match, dontcha think?
Halo/Evan/Pantsless dude was fairly neutral until he yelled "Thea, cheÂck me out! This is just for you!!" I turned and he was tucked into a full-on mangina, and pretending to touch his girlie parts. That was the point that he became completely uncool to me. Really? The last thing I want from a boy is a shouting mangina. Sorry. Ew.
Crazy and STD (Crazy emailed to offer me a place to stay before I came down, thanks for the generous hospitality!)
Ladies, this is Austin. He needs a dominant woman to put him in his place, if you know what I mean. Interested? Hit me up, I'll put ya'll in touch.
Austin was talking smack about the pantslessness when he got to the party. We all poked fun at him, saying he was just jealous he wasn't pantsless, too. He walked off to the coloring book table like, "Whatever." A few minutes later, he called me over and in a hushed voice told me, "I am wearing boxers, you know."
Obviously he was telling me because he wanted to drop trou as well. I said, "Just do it!" But he told me he needed more to drink. I took him to the bar to pour him a big ol' glass of wine and no sooner did i hand it over than his pants dropped. He seemed much happier from that point on.
The pants-stealing fairy at work, again.
Suddenly this no-pants boy started drawing on me. I'm not one to hinder people's creativity so I let him.
Then I colored in Austin.
Safety break in the van!
At the end of the night Gabe's whole family showed up. They seemed impressed with the shortness of his shorts.
Jacob and Papa Waterfall (which he bought.)
Toward the end of the night things were winding down when Chris (who introduced himself as the head sushi chef in town) brought me two huge plates of sushi for dinner. Thank you SO MUCH Chris!! I can't tell you how much I appreciated it. This pic is Chris and his sis.
Of course the Short Short Gang had to make it super sexy.
This girl, Liz, also gave me a beautiful mystery stone pendant. Thank you, Liz! I love it.
The show ended and the guys cleared everyone out till it was just a few of us at the coloring book table. This is me and boy Braydle.
This is his unnaturally hot girlfriend, Savanna (who beats the livin' piss out of him when he gets out of line. See the fear in his eyes?)
We colored for awhile till Savanna got a call from her brother (who was locked out or something.) She went to rescue him and the rest of us let Bradle go to bed.
Everyone else was heading out to Mad Dog's ranch to camp out but I just wanted to get to the hotel room and sleep. I walked into the hotel around 2AM that morning with a half-gone beer, a scratched painting and an upside-down red-cross painted on my face, feeling pretty durn good about Texas.
11AM chocolate dipped soft-serve. Bueno!
The next day was good. We got to deinstallation fairly early and Gabe and JoJoe helped me package everything.
Austin came by to get his painting.
I spent the afternoon repairing the damaged varnish on Papa Waterfall which involved much trial and error, a window, a hair dryer, cranked A/C a hotel glass and a stool. This took more than four hours but paid off in the end because Papa looked perfect again.
That evening we decided to all meet up for dinner. We were gonna go to the big Texan (which, if you haven't heard of it is the steakhouse that offers a free 72 oz steak if you can eat it (along with the potato, salad, and dinner roll) in under an hour. Unfortunately they were packed so we missed out on an opportunity to eat at a steakhouse that provides you with a puke-bucket.
DOUBLE RAINBOW!
We ate our dinner which was relaxing and uneventful (aside from he salad that Lily threw on Jojoe's head.)
Afterward we headed up to the Cadillac Ranch for some smoke and sightseeing. It was quite a ride. We unfortunately didn't really get pictures since the ride took place off the beaten path in the desert at sunset during the first part of a lightening storm and Jojoe was giving us the tour at about 40 mph. It was the craziest and best tour ever. The guys were riding inside while me, Lily and Samantha rode on the back. We were screaming and hanging on for dear life. I didn't honestly know if we'd be able to stay on. At one point a tree branch whacked us all on the back of the head and knocked us forward off the tool chest. Jojoe didn't seem to have any regard for the dirt road- he wanted to go where he wanted to go. (Lars told me that at one point Jojoe had said, "Oh shit! Where am I? I'm not even on the road!") Again, we didn't get any pictures but hopefully this picture of Stanley Marsh's car will make up for it. (Stanley Marsh is the owner of the Cadillac Ranch. He apparently had his car enhanced with a taxidermied scene after misplacing it in the parking lot after a movie once. Now he never loses it. Notice all the peacocks around? Those aren't stuffed. Some of them were albino.)
Sadly I didn't get to meet this colorful character but he was standing naked in the window when we drove by. Who doesn't like a big old 71 year old nekkid Texan in the window?
Unfortunately after this amazing sunset art tour, Lars and I were heading back to the hotel to coordinate dropping off Papa Waterfall with Jacob when i realized i didn't have my purse with me. I was immediately panic-stricken. We had ALL the money I'd made on this trip (all cash) in he purse, along with all my other valuables since we'd already attracted the attention of the house-keeping staff. I asked if Lars remembered me having it when I left dinner. He didn't. Lars called the resturaunt. I knew I'd had it there cause I'd paid for dinner. I couldn't believe my dumb-ass had left my purse with EVERYTHING in it. We raced back to ask if they'd found anything. Lars had gotten a bad vibe from the waiter when we'd first come in and was immediately suspicious. I figured I'd just left it somewhere and some lucky person had come across it and walked off. The staff was very helpful but the search turned up nothing and the waiter who'd served us was gone.
At this point I figured it was hopeless. I thanked the staff and walked back to my truck where I started crying. I couldn't believe I'd been so fucking stupid. This was so much work for both Lars and I (and had cost us a lot of money as well as the rest of his vacation time.) I couldn't believe I'd screwed up like this.
Lars called Jojoe and told him I couldn't come out to the bar cause I'd lost my ID and that we were just gonna hang out in the hotel room. He told us they'd come to the hotel room with beer and wine. I guess after we hung up with him, Lily remembered seeing me with the purse in the truck. Apparently I'd lost it on Mr. Jojoe's Wild Ride. Thank god for Lily. They showed up like 30 minutes later, with cold beer and my soaking wet purse. I was SO relieved. I felt wicked stupid and irresponsible, but at least I had money to get home. I can't be trusted with things.
Thank you Lily.
I need so much help getting thru life.
Jacob also came to the hotel to pick up his painting.
We somehow managed to cram five people into the front of my truck for a smoke (since the hotel's housekeeping staff had stopped us in the hallway earlier to hand us room deoderizer and tell us that the hotels no-smoking policy was strictly enforced ith a 750 dollar fine.)
Jojoe makes urinals everywhere.
After our smoke we all said goodbye. It was almost 2 in the morning at this point, and lars and I were planning to leave at 5AM so we could put in a good 19 hour drive the next day.
The next morning came and we left almost an hour later than expected. We drove, stopping for nothing except gas till we hit Ft. Collins, Colorado (around 2PM). Sweet Kirk was waiting with Mexican apricot avocado salad (homemade dressing) and a sweet potato side salad. It was amazing. I barely had a voice when I got to his house but after two heaping plates of lunch, we felt rebooted and were ready to hit the road again. Kirk packed us a makeshift cooler with dinner and we said goodbye. LOVE him.
The rest of the drive was OK. It was long, but decent (aside from running out of gas about 17 miles out of Laramie (where were were rescued by a Wyomian with a gallon of gas in the back.) We made it to Twin Falls a little after midnight, slept and hit the road again. We were home by 5PM the next day, and very happy for it.
Texas was beautiful and brought me some of the most interesting and beautiful characters I've had at an art show. I left inspired and grateful for the off-road adventure. In a weird way, a way I can't quite describe yet, it also helped me close a chapter. Now most of the Ween paintings have gone into the world and so have I. I'm not sure what's next, but I think for the time being I'll be focusing on more local goals. I have a girlfriend in Vancouver B.C. who's offered to host me- and I think I'll be doing a special, invite only art/desert party at my house before the summer is done. I won't be around as much for a little while, but there are big wheels a'turnin' at the rainbow hole.
Amarillo- Thank you so much for everything and to all the guys at the 10th Street Deli. It was an unforgettable experience and hopefully we'll see eachother again in this big brown world.
Big, Bad Lovin',
Thea "shorts too short n slutty 4 your stick" Wolfe
Posted on 23 Jun 2009, 9:42
- . - .
Born 2 Ride
First of all- I want all of you to know that Dreaming of Giants would never have been possible without Becky D and Johnny. They not only opened their home- they put their hearts behind this 100%. I owe this experience to them and cannot begin to express my gratitude over how much they put into making it happen.
Birka and JW- I love you both so much and am so fucking inspired, blessed and grateful to have you guys in my life. Thank you for supporting my dreams with real life blood, sweat and tears. Having people like you behind me helps me question myself less. I love you forever.
An ethnography of Rodeo Art and Alabamian Molestation
After over 7 months of planning (and now, over 7,000 miles in my truck) Dreaming of Giants is officially in my wake. Iíve had days to put together this blog and keep coming up short of words to sum up the experience. Alabama completely blew my mind. I barely know how to begin, my mind is still chewing on so much. I guess Iíll begin with the beginning.
The first day was spent driving from Seattle to Twin Falls, Idaho. Thanks to our decision to leave before dawn, we got in around 6PM and got to relax and go for a swim.
Their pool was a saline pool, rather than a gross chlorine pool- which was fucking awesome. We ate the good simple foods I packed and then tried to watch South Park.
I donít even remember getting thru the opening credits. Saline pools are better than sleeping pills.
The next day we were up bright and early so we could make it to Ft. Collins in time to hang out with my sweet friend, Kirk. Heíd been making the sauce for our (unbelievable) dinner for the past two days. I knew it was gonna be good.
I found Jeebie on the way....
Along with some unholy water...
And learned that people with big ass trucks from Texas like to drive this close to your ass when you're going 92mph on 70mph roads.
(As soon as I had room to move over, I learned he had no intention of passing. He his truck was just trying to snuggle- and possibly mount mine. Bueno.)
I was elated to see Kirk when we finally got in.
Despite soaring expectations, nothing could have prepared me for what he had made. It was literally one of the best meals Iíve ever eaten- so fresh, so nutritious, and so unique. He integrated nearly all of my favorite ingredients.
Picture this spread (all homemade and from scratch)... mango balsamic salsa, guacamole, and a tomatillo salsa with corn chips, a sugar snap pea salad, a green papaya salad, sesame noodles, kale banchan, and grilled (amazing) tempeh with peanut sauce. He also had cold IPAís waiting (my favorite!) and had gotten his hands on the best riesling I have ever had. I could barely believe it, but itís true- his food was as good as he is.
The next morning Lars and I snuck out to find some coffee in Ft. Collins (the only of my vices Kirk doesnít share).
By the time we got back he was already in the kitchen and fixing us a wonderful breakfast of fresh fruit salad with a citrus agave glaze and Kamut toast with maple spread.
Oooooh yum. We left Kirkís with the BEST leftovers....
The drive from Ft. Collins to Wichita was a long one, in part because Google Maps took us to a non-existant address in the middle of a field. By the time we called the hotel to figure out where the hell we were, weíd added another hour to our travels (not so fun to tack on to a 10 hour day on the road.)
Fortunately the nice people at the hotel helped guide us out of the sticks and were awaiting our arrival with reasonably clean rooms and a very heavy-handed bartender, who improvised an obliteratingly strong mai-tai-esque cocktail for me.
Bueno.
The last day was an intense one. I hadnít been sleeping well (with the exception of a short but heavy rest in Twin Falls) and was anxious about getting into Pinson. Google maps said it would be about a 14 hour drive, so we were bracing for a long day. It felt even longer with the belly full of butterflies I was hauling around. I couldnít believe this event weíd been planning for so long was tomorrow.
By the time we got in to the greater Birmingham area, my brain was made up of birdshit and peanut butter. We were dropping our stuff off in the hotel room when I got a phone call from my former sculpture teacher, Ron (who I am deeply gay for). He told me that he and his lovely wife were planning to drive down from Nashville for the show. I was SO excited. Ron is my favorite teacher of all time, and Iím almost positive Iím also his favorite student ever in the whole world- since heís never explicitly told me otherwise. YAY!
Once we unloaded some of our stuff, we drove to Pinson.
LOL!!!
Johnny mustíve felt us coming, cause he was standing outside as we pulled up. I was so excited I ran to him. It felt indescribably good to be there. As soon as I stepped thru the door, I saw Birka D (who squealed and immediately fulfilled her promise to hump my leg.) I felt at home. Johnny cracked me a beer (heíd gotten me some excellent IPA microbrews from Kansas) and served me a huge plate of spaghetti and meatballs.
I felt immediately at home. I canít remember the last time I entered a room full of strangers and felt so comfortable. Thereís something truly magical about the southern hospitality.
Lindsay got in from North Carolina as I was finishing my meal. I felt loved.
After a few beers and a hearty meal I was exhausted. Despite wanting to collapse, I sucked it up and went for a round in the bounce castle with Birka Dirka and Kelby Ann (who jousted me senseless).
It was a good pre-party night.
I woke up the next morning after barely getting three hours of sleep and lay awake in bed until about 7AM, nervously wondering how the day would unfold. Birka Dirka and Johnny had put SO much work into the show, I wanted more than anything to make it beautiful, inspiring and worth their while. Although Iíd immediately felt pulled to do this, there was a part of me that wondered about trying to throw an art show in Pinson. This was my first time in Alabama, I didnít have a fanbase in the area and Becky Dís place is not a venue that weíd be getting any walk-up traffic. Pinson is small- it doesn't even show up on a map so it was definitely a risk. Everyone who would be at the show either got a flyer or heard about it thru word-of-mouth . I was frankly very nervous and wondered if anyone would even bother to show up. I hoped they would... I didnít want to let Johnny and Birka down.
We showed up at the house shortly before 9AM. There was a lot of work to be done, and Iíd kicked into go-mode. Unfortunately this meant waking up about half a dozen sleepers, most of whom were thankfully willing and able to help.
Wake up Birka Dirka!!!
Birka was so excited to wake up to a house full of art that she beat Johnny's ass with a hairbrush.
From that point on, we completely transformed the house. We completely emptied the rooms, removed the ceiling fans and installed the lights weíd brought down.
I didn't stop once, except to drink Cristal(lino) Orange Lumps (it's like an Alabamian mimosa). Fuck you, Jake Jake.
Then, we installed the art. Becky D stayed hidden in the bedroom so she could really experience the ìbefore and afterî. It was pretty darn good.
(This is my sweet, newest son- Lil Mike. He is a rare gem, to say the least.)
By 4PM all that was left to do was clean up, vacuum and put away everything on the counters. Sweet (save the day) Johnny cracked me an ice cold beer, and said, ìWe got it from here. Go take care of yourself.î
I drank my beer on the porch and then headed for the hotel to shower before the show.
We headed back to the house at about ten to six so we could put up all the labels, break out the booze, and help set up the book table. On our way, we got a phone call from Johnny saying my friends from Tennessee were there! I was SOOO excited to see Ruth and Ron and was even more stoked that theyíd arrived almost 2 hours early. This meant I actually got to spend some time with them. Much to my surprise, we pulled up to discover that they were not the only early arrivals. There were probably 25 other people there also- TWO hours before weíd planned on opening the doors. I felt the knot in my stomach unclench a little. Maybe Pinson really did need this art party...
Here are a few of the early birds-
And here are the official Dreaming of Giants pics. I apologize if we didnít get a shot of you or yours, it was a hectic night and we certainly didnít manage to capture everyone, but we got what we could.
Poor kid. He kept losing the bottom of his wine glass. Sadly this was the least of his troubles.
At the end of the night I was both buzzing and exhausted. It seems odd to say, but at first I wasnít really sure how the party had gone. During my showings, I am usually so engaged with people that I donít end up seeing anything except the people Iím currently talking to. Despite being beat by the time we got back to the hotel, I did a quick once thru with the pictures and realized itíd been a great night. This made me happy and I fell asleep, only to wake an hour or so later to torrential rain, thunder and lightning. It had waited till the party was over, despite the forecast. Itís funny, thatís happened for my last three shows- itís beautiful till an hour after the show- when it absolutely storms. We even got caught in a little of it the next morning.
The next morning we headed over there around 11AM to deinstall. While we were taking things down, Becky Dís parents pulled up in their truck. Johnny happened (on special request) to be wearing a lovely pink dress and greeted Gil and Sonja at the door saying, ìDidnít see you at church today.î Gil looked down at him and said, ìWe didnít make it.î
As soon as I saw Gil I was gayer than a mountain homo with a corn cob in his ass. Gil is a massive bear of a man- 6í11î, and covered in weathered old tattoos. Heís got one of those voices that you canít help but try and imitate when youíre repeating his words- guttural, gravelly and with the heaviest Alabamian twang you can imagine. If you know me, you can imagine my immediate adulation. He is more mystical than a candy coated unicorn.
Gil came in through the door with a lit cigarette and a mason jar full of Jim Beam and started growling at the art. I tried to introduce myself but given our two foot height discrepancy, he literally didnít see me and pushed right past. We were officially introduced a few minutes later in the living room. Gil seemed surprised to see me way down at 5í2î.
After checking out the artwork, we all hung out on the porch for a bit. Gil asked me if I liked to hunt. I told him I like shooting guns, but that Iíd never been hunting. He said, ìWell, you oughta come out with me sometime.î For a moment my mind wandered to the woods- sneaking through the trees with my new giant friend and hunting instructor. I pictured holding my breath, taking aim at my first moving target and then pulling the trigger and blowing itís fucking life out thru itís neck. Woah.
ìI dunno, Iíd love to give it a try, but if it came down to actually shooting a deer, I think I might cry.î
He softened a little, ìYeah,î he told me. ìI thought Iíd be real sad, too- I mean, killiní such a beautiful creature, but the first time I took one down it hit the ground, my dick went hard and I thought WOOOOOOOOO!î He did a weird gyrating motion, went up on his tiptoes for a split second and took a drag of his cigarette. I was sold. This guy is so fuckiní cool he could probably get me to shoot an endangered panda baby.
Reinacting Poorboy's meltdown the previous night.
Me, Birka and her beautiful Momma, Sonja
Lesbians are hot.
Big Daddy took me down to his truck to show me his hunting pictures. I guess his father in law had killed the biggest deer in the history of the universe or something. Gil had all the articles on hand and showed them to me, along with several pictures of shit he'd killed.
After our Alabamian family time, Gil and Sonja left and we finished deinstallation. And we jousted. Jousting makes for cooler pictures.
There were three cold Imperial Avatars involved as well (my favorite beer of all time.) Birka LOOOOVED hers and quickly traded it out for a queer beer (watermelon flavored.)
Johnny doesn't like beer either. He's not a complainer, but it was fairly obvious. Which was OK, cause me, Lindsay and Lil Mike were more than happy to pick up their slack.
Sadly, it was then time to say goodbye to Stu and his theramin (who had to catch a flight back to D.C.) Johnny passed out when he got back from the airport.
We decided to fake-sleep with him, since he'd been teaching us all his fake-sleeping ways. He, however, was REAL-sleeping when we got in bed with him.
Sweet lil Mike.
We were all in the throes of Alabamian Sunday Molestation when Gil called. He wanted to talk to me and we eventually got to chatting about guns again. He told me we oughta come down to his place and ìshoot some guns off the porch.î Everyone was game so we packed the cooler up and headed down to Gil and Sonjaís. But not before Birka Dirka polished off the last quarter bottle of wine. And it was a big ass bottle.
My kinda lady.
I could say SO much about that Sunday. It was the nicest family time I think Iíve ever experienced. Everyone immediately became too wasted to remember our plan of shooting guns off the porch, but no one seemed to miss it.
Everyone was smiling the whole time. We poured countless rounds of tequila shots. Daddyís were at least 3 times the size of anyone elseís.
Cause he's really, really big.
Daddy kept trying to get me to take shots, but I'm on lifetime probation with alcohol, and, despite my former profound love of the sweet nectar, tequila and I have a love that isn't meant for this world. (Maybe the 9th layer of hell, but not this world.) Fortunately I'm a good negotiator and I managed to talk him down to trading tequila shots for boiled peanuts. BUENO!
Unfortunately, Daddy's deliciously hot and salty nuts gave me oral herpes. Go figure.
It was worth it.
I also showed Big Daddy some of the finer crops Seattle has to offer after his unfortunate comment ìWeedís weed.î
I made him finish off the little pinner we were passing around. Within a few draws, he had a change of heart, saying ìWell, Goddamn, this Seattle shit DO hold some weight!î He then fell over in the kitchen. SO adorable.
I was swept up in a wave of Northwest pride.
Daddy's comfy.
But if you get too comfy, you miss the burps and end up having to make a sex noise.
When daddy lost the sex noise game he grunted. Becky D was like, "What the hell was that?" Sonja said, "Yeah, that's pretty much it."
SEX NOISE!
The night went on and we drank, laughed and held mommyís hair back while she adorably puked (cutest hurler ever, seriously).
Eventually, upon Becky Dís suggestion, we decided to try and have sex with her while she was distracted by her prayers to the porcelain gods.
There were dance parties...
Drunk lovin'...
Some puke...
After mommyís final round, we put her to bed and went back outside to find big daddy passed out on the porchswing. We gathered our cooler, grabbed the last bit of the tequila and headed back to Becky Dís.
There I poured the final shots from the tequila bottle.
Lil Mikey got the worm and down went the last of our sweet poison.
Someone knocked a wine bottle over and we ladies did the only reasonable thing; we threw eachother down and started wrestling on the floor while Lars and Lil Mike tried to get the shattered glass and spilled wine out of our way.
Ooh BOOBIE!
Somewhere in there we all broke out into an Aerosmith song...
After the wrestling, Lars pointed out that it was midnight and that we had to leave for a 14 hour drive first thing in the morning. He wanted to make sure I was rested, not hungover. At this point the mood changed. I finished trimming Johnnyís painting (Disappointments of Friendship). He could tell I was feeling sad and came over to cheer me up.
Time to say goodbye. That was really, really hard.
We hugged. I donít know who lost it first or if it was simultaneous, but partway into the hug, it was over. Lars lost it hugging Lil Mike, Lil Mike lost it when Lars fell apart, and Johnny lost it hugging Lars. Lindsey kept it together longer than the other chicks, but we all ended up hugging and crying. It was hallucinogenic, hyperemotional, powerful, magical... I donít know. You would have had to be there, living our weekend to understand, but if youíd been there- Iíd bet my boots youíd be crying along with the rest of us.
I didnít expect it to be so hard to say goodbye- I donít think anyone really did, but now- looking back, Iím not surprised.
I left with half a lukewarm beer and cried the whole way back to the hotel. When we got there I asked Lars, ìDonít you think Iíll look weird, walking into the hotel, crying and holding a half-gone beer?î He smiled and told me I looked fine so I went with it.
Thatís what this was all about. Just going with it. I took a risk and expected no more than an adventure. What I got was a new light, new family, and reinforcement on my path. I left lifted and inspired to continue on my quest to nurture the collective soul of the world. Big Daddy woke up Monday morning on the porch swing said all he knew was that he was missing his cigarettes and his shirt was "half burnt off." I guess if you're really living, you oughta be saying "What the fuck?!?!?" pretty regularly.
So here I am, itís 10:00 PM on Wednesday evening and I leave in exactly one week for Amarillo. Initially I was a little more apprehensive about the Amarillo show. Why? Well, for starters Iíve never been to Texas. All I know is that for getting so little web-traffic from the area, Iíve recieved an impressive amount of hate mail. I also must confess that Iíve never met or spoken to the dude hosting me. He found me through MySpace and invited me down. Normally Iíd be very hesitant to work with strangers but I liked this guys face. And hair. And windbreakers. Sometimes the little things are enough. I mean, the worst that could possibly happen is a really long roadtrip to somewhere hot with tons of smashed Armadillos along the road and a montage of eyefuckingly glorious teal and magenta clothing. Sounds fine to me.
So this is it for now, people- but you can bet on a more coherent blog coming up. I can't end this well, yet cause... well, it's not over. I think I'll have better things to say on the other side of the Rodeo. For now, I need some time for my brain to chew. Sadly, I delayed my ìchewingî by spending all of Tuesday overeating banana pancakes and over-drinking bootlegger's tea. I have such good judgement in 90 degree weather. Lars says "no pain no gain." I say "no punishment, no glory."
To everyone who came out to Alabama, thank you SO much- you have no idea what Dreaming of Giants has meant to me. I only wish it'd lasted longer. Hope to see you next time. I plan on being back before too much time has passed.
...And TEXAS!!! See you in a week. I have no idea what to expect, but I'm excited for the adventure. Tell your friends and bring me some Armadillo jerky.
All the sweet lovin',
Thea "Rodeo of Righteous Wrong" Wolfe
Posted on 4 Jun 2009, 16:48
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