Winter Matrix Conference

within a half day i was two hours from miami. i’d driven through the night and opted to stay at disgusting motel with a dayroom because arriving on anyone’s doorstep at 7am is cruel especially if they want to hear about your journey and you want to hear where the bed is

i lost almost all of my photographs from miami: computer ate my sd card.

i went down there with this clear conscious and cocky attitude to be the man and empower all of my friends, talk about their problems, you know?  i did an adequate job and i shed the shit out of my own emotional skin; it was a lot of work. i didn’t realize transforming myself would require so many tears. i’ll probably spend the next year thanking and later apologizing to all my friends who made me feel like a phoenix before i got a big head and burnt all the bridges –

 

listening to: heart’s these dreams  (1985)

Baton Rouge’ll Flirt Wit’cha

i wanted to get a prostitute. i’ve never picked up a prostitute. i’ve taken girls out for dinner and after dinner we did stuff which is kind like paying for it and i’ve been with girls who were a lot of work the next morning so i payed for it in other ways but i’ve never actually paid for it. if prostitution truly is the world’s oldest profession, i’ve been neglecting my rite as a man to soliciate this service. tonight’s the night.

i checked into the cool boutique hotel in downtown baton rouge a couple blocks from the one bar i found googling “hipster baton rouge”. the room was nice and the desk clerk called me “mr. joseph”. i had sushi on top of the slick high-rise next door. i sat at the bar a couple chairs down from tanya. tanya is 40+, educated, and works in insurance. it’s her birthday and she was there with all her black coworkers. she kept saying, “lukatchu cute lil’whiteboi. if i wadn’t marrieeeeeeeed, ewebet dat’ass i’d be flirt’n witchah. ooowwwwah” she didn’t. she passed out from too many blue martinis and her coworkers carried her to elevator.

at this same time but in miami my friend was walking along the beach when a tall and mysterious fisherman opened his hands to present the most beautiful shell of the season. “for me?”, she asked. the stranger nodded his head with a smile. my friend took the shell and that was that.

after dinner i walked towards the hipster bar i found on google. some djs set their pa up in the corner and played a mix of eclectic favorites like hot butter. the bartender who took care of me is young, thin, beautiful, excited about her vintage mom jeans, she’d soon love my blog. she ignored the other patrons and let her co-bartender make all the drinks. we spoke of the perks of self-awareness and i told her about my journey. “i wish i could do something like that” she whispered she asked where i was staying.

as i’m going through a real empower the self-aware thing, i spent 45 minutes at the corner of the bar verbally pumping my bartender full of empowerment then said goodbye before finishing my second drink. in my head, i was a magic apparition of light who appeared on a slow night and gave her a shell of strength to do wonderful things then left without a trace or “pumping” but there’s a thousand other ways she may have and probably perceived me.

baton rouge is on the mississippi and the old town buildings were erected at the same time as st. louis’ inner city. i felt akin there, this is a cousin home. mark twain probably felt the same way except he would have written tanya differently.

the sky looked super neat and i took photos before going back to the hotel to call prostitutes. i called five. deep down i knew i wouldn’t actually sleep with one. she’d show up, we’d jump on the bed, eat pizza, and fight over little spoon while sharing bad date stories. none of the prostitutes returned my calls. i’m worse at prostitutes than sealing deals with young bartenders and tanya. the next morning my car broke down next to a sign that read, “watch for snakes. theyre watching you.”

baton rouge was alright

 

listening to primal scream’s rocks (1994)

one night in Beaumont

mike and rachel took me out on the town. it was really foggy. all the night-life happens on crocket street, downtown. there’s a country bar next to another country bar next to the bar we went to that had a lot of dubstep. the club next-door had people line dancing to songs like footloose and nelly’s ei.

Dallas, TX – Houston, TX

oklahoma got cold. it’s warmer in texas. i’ve never been to texas: this is it – have you ever been to texas? there’s miles and miles of nothing. a lot of nothing. not actual-nothing tho, the no-asphalt or plants-that-matter-to-me nothing.

 

sometimes when you’re driving through nothing you’ll see a barn near the highway. someone built that barn in that spot. now there’s no roof on the barn and it’s filled with actual-nothing. maybe it was a bad spot to build a barn or maybe the barn didn’t have the structure necessary to support the roof, but why take it down? sure it’s missing a roof but a barn was a good idea, not necessarily that barn but a barn was and this site is my barn. you’re standing in my barn, figuratively. i wish i was next to you right now in figurative-barn; i’d dim the lights and talk at you about myself so hard

in dallas i saw the grassy knoll. there’s an x in the road where jfk got it. people stand in front of the x and get their pictures taken. they smile. i didn’t take any photos in dallas. debbie did it there, dw’s sells the proof on the way to houston-

houston and the menil collection with sue // we would have taken more pictures but they got wise to us

listening to tiedye’s remix of rubies feat. feist’s i feel electric (2008)