blah ha ha

[mccutcheon]

Since I've got nothing better to do than jack off with a limp dick I thought I'd post more from the Scribbles novel. It paint ain't dry yet so what? I hope this finds its way to Martino. Besides you can't listen to Buckfunk 3000 the day after. I'm now into Primal Scream mellow stuff and Big Country-- Yes both Scottish and Bobby G is still alive making my life better by his mere presence on this planet. And In A Big Country still gives chills. Steve Lillywhite might be the Tom Wilson of his gereration.

okay back to mixing like Lemon Jelly after eating a fried fish taco.

oh yeah and here is part of the novel-- not Tour. Scribbles. I'm doing them both at once. But not mixing mind you.


Chapter- 3

It took three attempts to get onto the freeway heading east. I kept missing the on ramp and was diverted down a one-way street in the wrong direction. I was caught going around the block again and again until I got in the far right lane and maneuvered the big truck onto I-90. A road I was to get to know well.

Leaving Seattle behind for possibly for the last time I tried to think of all the things that had happened to me there. The friends I made and how we had a ritual Sports Tuesday where we played basketball and tennis for five to six hours and then head to a bar for happy hour. Those were some of the best days in my life.

And I remembered the girls.

Danielle was from Seattle. She was a true love of mine. I fucked up the relationship by being in a severe depression. All the Prozac and psychiatrists couldn't fix my brain. Danielle left me and it took me four years to get over her. Though I will never truly get over her. When we broke up I used to get drunk and call her. I told her that her dad was gay. Not a smart move, telling a nineteen-year-old girl that her father is gay. I wonder what she is doing now. The last few times I tried to contact her she told me to fuck off and that she wanted nothing to do with me.

Tara was from Calgary, Alberta and on the Canadian National swim team. When she had a break in her training she would come to Seattle. She really liked the city. She was even thinking of enrolling at the UW. She was my soul mate. She made me feel loved like no one ever else had. I dealt with her car accident and death alone.

Julia was from Germany, and was in Seattle as an au pair. Even though the fact that she ended up in Washington State was a mistake. She loved New York City and when she couldn't get a job there and was offered a place in Washington she took it because she thought D.C. was close enough to New York. Julia was an exceptionally beautiful girl who really turned me on but wasn't really into sex. I remember how frustrating that was. But I also remember doing it ten times in one day, so maybe I was just excessive.

I met Amanda at a fashion show in a vintage clothing store. I realized that if I stood at the edge of the makeshift bar I could order as much beer as I pleased while simultaneously looking through the crack in the curtain, where the girls were changing. I saw Amanda with her back to me. She was alone and topless and was struggling to tie up the back straps. I walked in and without saying a word helped her fit the dress over her breasts. There was a full-length mirror in front of us and we looked at our reflection. She didn't give me her phone number that night but she didn't slap me either. It would be another two months before we hooked up.

I'm not good at much in this world. But I do have extraordinary taste in beautiful women. I mean all these girls were so great in their different ways. And they were all very beautiful and I met them all in the Emerald City. Having strong attractions to hot sexy women is not a problem. Keeping these lovelies proves to be. Every relationship I have ever been in has failed.

I stared to get sad and horny and when I swerved into the other lane and a car honked its horn at me I decided to clear my mind and concentrate on the road ahead.

Halfway to Spokane I had to stop and get gas. I pulled over into one of the big gas station complexes that also serve huge cups of coffee and many different kinds of fast food. This place had a Taco Bell/Pizza Hut.

The weather had already started to cool. Seattle is a bit of an oasis in Washington State because it is the only liberal big town but also because the weather is very temperate and it rarely gets below freezing. The farther east I go the colder it gets and the less I see pristine Volvo station wagons and the more I see rusted out Ford pickup trucks.

I took off the gas cap and put the diesel nozzle into the tank. I set up the lever to click it in place so I could wash my windshield. As soon as I turned my back the lever disengaged and clicked off. It was like when the tank is full and it automatically stops to prevent run off. Though I know the tank was almost empty. I went back and manually held it in place. Once again it clicked off. I've never owned a car and have little knowledge of how automobiles work but I do know how to pump gas.

I held the nozzle at a right angle and very slowly pulled on the lever. Gasoline trickled into the tank, when I applied more pressure the lever clicked off once again. I climbed into the cab of the truck to check the level of the tank. The thermometer type thingy read almost empty. I turned the ignition to start the truck to see if that made any difference. It rattled and chugged to life. I stopped suddenly because I was getting shouted at. I turned and looked into the grisly face of the petrol patrolman.

“What in the fuck are you doing?�

“I'm trying to pump gas.�

“You from Portland?�

“No, why?�

“Because in Oregon they got mandatory full service and you obviously don't know what the fuck you are doin'.�

“I know how to pump gas. I think the nozzle is broken or something.�

“All my pumps run fine. Get the fuck down from there. Ya never start a truck up with the nozzle still in the tank.�

I jump down from my seat and stand behind the man as he shows me how to fuckin' pump gas. After two futile tries he has me move the truck to the next pump and he tries again. The same problem keeps happening. As soon as the lever is pulled down to allow a full stream of gas to flow into the tank the nozzle shuts off.

“What da fuck you do to this truck?�

“Nothing. I rented it this way.�

“You got a lemon. I hope you ain't goin' too far.�

“Just to New York.�

“Shit. You better turn back.�

“To Seattle?�

“Yeah.�

“Can't I just let it trickle in? I mean maybe the pumps won't be broken at the next gas station.�

“I told you it ain't my pumps but do what you want.�

I didn't take his advice. My trip was coming down and I was left with the chills of my cold. I just wanted to keep going forward. I huddled around the tank hole and let the gas trickle in a little at a time. It took twenty-five minutes to fill the tank half full. I needed enough fuel to get me to the next station. Inside I paid and bought coffee and orange juice.