With the month of September now looming ahead, Chassy and I, like most sensible mammals, have been putting our fragments of plans together, with the intent of entirely bypassing the mid-west's awful rendition of winter. With College now behind both of us, we finally have the option of heading towards a reasonable climate that will allow for us to continue living a life where shoes are mostly optional, and productive lifestyles are as simple as sunshine. That's right, we're gonna' be southbound after our hectic month in Milwaukee- at least until its warm again. Is this really some kind of surprise to y'all? I certainly shouldn't think so.
Anyhow, as we vaguely plot our course for the next half year or so, our long time brother, andpartner-in-crime, The Great B.O., has began to do the same thing, except he plans on earning his bread in the ever-grey boonies of Minnesota. I think he's F'in crazy, but he does have a better tolerance to the cold than I do, plus, with B.O.'s plush persona and legendary work ethic, he has managed to find himself a helluva' lotta' friends in the auto business. Whenever B.O. needs to earn some money, he's got places lined up like eager teenagers, just waiting to put him to work. It's magical really, and in my humble opinion- it wreaks of the american dream.
So in the "business" sense of things, our parting ways- much like the several times we have done so in the past- was inevitable, understood, and has quite honestly always been an aspect of our traveling philosophy. Not so much the reality of inevitably separating, but the truth that neither one of us can allow ourselves to fall short of our own goals, by following the other one's too long. Example: When B.O. decided he needed to try and "make it" in Las Vegas on his own, and I subsequently had to take a plane back to Milwaukee to make it back for a gallery showing I was in. He had the urge to do something that was not in my schedule, and thus forth, we both understood it would be the cause of our parting ways. The ebb and flow of a good traveling partnership I suppose.
So without getting any teary eyes here, I thought it would be fun for the whole family if I went and compiled some of the lovely portraits I have been collecting of The Great B.O. throughout our travels. Some go way back to our initial departure, back when we had 'ol Dylan rolling with us as well. It sure seems like it's been ages! It's CRAZY to think that it hasn't even quite been one year since I set out to write a great american novel. It sure has been allot to take in...
As a final request from your humble editor here at "TLGaJ," I ask that you go find a super corny slow song to play ("yellow," by coldplay, or perhaps, "You Are So Beautiful-" this needs to be high school slide-show corny), and put it on play as you slowly scroll through the laughs, the anger, the drunkeness, the concussions, and the over-all madness that B.O. is ultimately comprised of.
Remember B.O., J.U.I.C.E. Meeting in September- in the meantime, keep on living the american dream! Don't let me down. Here's to you Brother,
Until We Meet Again...
(cue the music)
Anyone who ever tells you that you shouldn't eat fresh cantaloupe with a knife in the car while driving, can shove it! This is precisely where The Great B.O. indefinitely delivers...
B.O. and D-money brush their teeth at the auto-detail shop in Minnesota. In the very beginning, the three of us lived in a pop-up camper together. It didn't last too long...
B.O. passionately explains his latest invention to me and Chassy while on the beach just outside Portland. It's a pretty good one, so I can't say what it is... you guys would steal it...
Another instant classic, and a photographic lead-in to one of TLGaJ's first "HOW TO's: How To: Charge Your Phone When Your Homeless," Ohhh Boy were we miserable that day, man!
B.O. don's the legendary "gladiator" mask on our way to Albuquerque New Mexico, as two "foreign studies" ride-sharers sit in back somewhat amused, and somewhat disturbed.
After a dramatic fallout between myself, Dylan, and B.O.- in the very beginning- I sold my truck and the pop-up, and wen't to visit B.O.'s brother Mark in North Carolina. Who do you think is to pick me up from Charlotte NC, but The Great B.O. himself! This had been the first time we saw each other since the disastrous explosion (our initial departure), and luckily, we recovered as brothers do.
Clearly this man deserves a ride to Tampa Bay, or Fort Myers- don't you think? Look at that convincing smile!
B.O. Shotguns beer's with me on the side of the interstate. I'm not sure it was very neccessary looking back on it now, but I got no regrets!
Here in Ft. Meyers, we washed our hair near their public library, and got scolded by the cops soon after. Apparently, if your homeless, you aren't allowed to have illustrious hair. Totally bogus...
Another flat tire, and we were only about 60 miles South of Eugene, OR, our destination for the day. We actually had to spring 40 bucks and buy a new tire that day, after at least a dozen patched-flats in the previous weeks.
We spent a few days with little Olive here, in Eugene Oregon, and as most kids do, she loved playin' with B.O.!
This is actually a step or two ahead of where I've really left of chronologically in the "formal" telling of our tales, So I guess I ruined the surprise. Yep, B.O. got a concussion.
"Beat," is the only word that comes to mind here... Or maybe the phrase, "Excuse me ma'am, I'm hungry, could you spare a dollar?"
In Portland, Bad/Cheap beer is frowned upon, unless it's of a trendy label, like that of Hamm's, or Pabst. I know, I know. I'm rolling my eyes and sighing as well here.
I love this photograph here atop the highest point in Santa Fe New Mexico!
Las Vegas makes even the most un-motivated, and crummy, of photographers look like pro's; every shot is a damned postcard I tell you! The rest of the night I mostly took pictures of people taking pictures of things, because I thought it was pretty hilarious. I'm pretty sure B.O. is somewhere in the crowd here though...
This is after a few days in Las Vegas, after we've blown all our cash, and B.O. decides he's gonna try and live in the Honda, and "make it" out in Vegas. I decide to head to Milwaukee, and B.O. uses "Craigslist," on my net-book before I go. He posted the F'in car he was living in without batting an eye; ballsy to say the least. Cheers to balls!
B.O. looks like he's listening, but trust me, he's not. Rarely, we see him sitting passenger as we fly through the Wyoming countryside.
B.O. erotically puts the lotion on the skin- near the Fisherman's Wharf in San Francisco
B.O. with one of his many memorable expressions that will surely never wash off- San Francisco laughs in the background, but he don't mind.
No comments:
Post a Comment