even if i barfed in it, even if i sexxed in it, even if didnt do anything but take a load off and watched tv in it.
every room has a personality and a quirk and even though right now its sharing new memories with its new guest, i hope it remembers some of the things that i brought to it while i stayed there.
sometimes when i travel i want to travel forever. the success of walking around a large semi circle and then back to the hotel brings a cocky confidence that makes me believe i could do this anywhere. but then trying to say a square’s name to the tram conductor brings me right back to earth as i remember that i can barely speak english, im no world traveller.
and then i pop out of the LAX baggage claim and im hit with the mild temperatures of the city of angels and i drive my car and i wonder who has turned the heat up but the heat isnt on, im wearing a flannel and a jacket and then i remember im not in europe any more, im back in lala land where a man only needs one or the other in the winter, a jacket or a flannel, but not both.
and then i take that first long shower. hot shower. hot shower with a mix cd spinning for a girl who doesnt even wanna think about you. and i think about all the dead ends in this town and i wonder why i just dont try to figure out a way to just keep on moving and traveling and writing and taking some pictures. there are far worse people who get paid for that sort of thing.
and then i turn on my tivo and i say im so comfortable here, how can i leave. and the phone rings and the door bells and the emails pour in, and people know im back and its nice. its really nice. its like they noticed i wasnt here. its like they could tell that my third favorite city was handed to me on a silver platter and i ate it all up and licked the thing clean.
people took pictures of me in compromising positions. people wrote blog posts about how nice it was to meet me. people wrote emails with even more private photos and even though the detroit free press thinks that blogs have reached their peak lemme tell you something, i just got treated like a fucking rockstar because of blogging and im talking about more than just an airplane trip and a room, and my alexa number isnt worth shit, as if alexa means shit.
if andy warhol had been around during blogging he would have upped his number regarding fame by at least a half hour because you dont ever have to get on tv to have people laugh at your dumb jokes and thats not really the definition of fame but its what we’ll work with right now because my jokes are not always funny but on the road everyone laughs.
and the girls on the road are always better than you dream about. paige wrote last week that she thinks about sex when shes bored and when i was in college i never thought id meet miss amsterdam let alone touch her. and i never thought any black girls would get on an hour long train ride to meet me, let alone a young man who looks like tom cruise’s brother.
a dude wrote me from england saying that he was going to spend the night across channel so he could meet me and i told him to save his money, that i wasnt worth it. but people dont leave disappointed.
it sorta makes me wish id barfed on a boat for them so they could have had something to tell their friends about.
but dont worry pallies. tony pierce will be back in your town again. and he will try to kiss as many pretty girls as you throw in front of him. and he will drink down all your beers and dance at your bad music. but please dont take offense if he dont smoke your weed mixed with xyz. which doesnt mean he might not get sick next to your canal. it just might be at 3am instead of 2am.
i dont understand this life that i have. it isnt bad. its very weird. its like after years of saying, why is that asshole able to go off and do that instead of me, suddenly im the asshole. which is why i never forget how it used to be, which is why i try so much harder to earn whatever this is that im getting.