.Flight of the Stoner Scarab.
So much I could write right now about the chaotic adventures in these past few months. .
My comerades of the NY WoD room had the brilliant idea of converging in one house. Alas. .the first attempt was a failure [due to incompetent management at Remax rentals] so our travel and exile from Fredericksburg, VA was. .well, insane to say the least.
Step into the visual realm for one second. Picture Baby, our galliant metal stallion being pillaged and plundered. Her ass thoroughly packed to the brim and ghetto-rigged by jump ropes from the local supermarket to keep it all in place because the invention of bungee cords seem to be a product of myth. Add several extra items of baggage, and a rear seat comfortably lined with a feather bed and faux mink blanket. Seems rather cramped, yes?
Now. .envision is more like a clown car. Add five people to said stallion. I have been transformed into a Christopher sandwhich between Scrappa and my darlin' boyfriend [mind you they are the day and night. The White Italian and the Black Brotha sharing the same name and birthday] Then. .came the italian sub sandwhich between "Mmm... Caramel Ho ho's" Derek, and my boy yet again. Just what I wanted. .sandwhiched between two stinky Italians from a day of moving.
I've learned that aterial posessions are just that. .things of sentient memory that can be replaced. [And a touch of anger management with a golf club with the items left behind. Theraputic at best to let the tears and aggression of being thoroughly screwed over from the whitest black motherfucker of the male persuasion to walk the earth]
So. .we set off. .Derek, Scrappa, Jally, Chris and yours truly in Baby by late evening for the endless ride to Louisville, KY. Smothered in the sandwhich piles with interchanging drivers of Derek and Scrappa, dining on 'baby batter' Ben and Jerry's Brownie Batter ice cream, the luxury of Djarum cloves and plenty of laughter. [I tell you this now, Hiveminds exist. When five friends from a meagar chat room merge in real life and the 'Hivemin'D!' units. .all hell broke loose. From cartoons and old school childhood memories forged from all of us into one conglomerate idea. To RP ideas, philosophy and general madness the birth of 'The Real World of Darkness' comic soon to be released in it's first debut issue online of our travel and experiences.
Kentucky was a short stay sad to say. .stoned madness and the writhing torments of 'Kitties!', Derek's babies and idle chatter, I had the humbling experience to travel with the true-blue Bone Gnawer that Scrappa is through his old turf and the rougher moments in his life on the streets. Sitting by the water and having the silent reflections of what we as a unit endured thus far. Truly a blessing to find the simple pleasures in life with people whom I know will be lifelong friends.
Alas. .it was time to be on the move again. We parted with Derek and Scrappa for the literal hell of four transfers of Greyhound busses. Mind you. .I now have a thorough hatred for those rolling mechanical bastards. Keep the dog on the track and not on the road. We then landed in Raleigh, NC at Jally's sister's place. .and thus been here for nearly a month now if not to the day. I've appreciated the south for vacation. .never would I think it be highly annoying if not utterly vexing on the nerves. .nor would I think I had missed the simple comforts of the north and familiar grounds. [If I hear one more ounce of rap I might forgo my lack of being racist and go on a music war with neighbors here. Let them drown in the throes of Maynard and the echo of Passive and The Outsider.]
Celebration, love and loss and lessons of life have been garnered from all of this. .for all the mental hell that this travel may have been, I feel as if I have found a new niche in this world that I belong in, and the comfort that I have my other halves. Chris has been a sense of stability and comfort when I needed it. .Jally has become the hybrid of myself and Jama. It's like having an older sister around for those morning cups of coffee and cig, to bitch and gripe about the most obscene things and have our 'girly moments' of chatter. .to stoned oblivion and sheer insanity. It's been a blast and when it comes time to part ways until our meeting once again, I can truly say I will feel like I have lost a part of myself. There are always other times to come. .the re-gathering of souls in one place just to celebrate the madness we all as one have created and savored. This my friends is what the world is about. .
To travel, to see the world for what it's worth, to roll with the good and the bad and take what experiences and memories you can and leave nothing but footprints. For now the gypsy in my heart has flourished and will forever remember this. And yet again, not one moment would I trade for anything else.
And through all of this comes the end [for now] of the Flight of the Scarab. .a permanent sign of temporary insanity to commemorate the travel. Fresh ink and perhaps one of the best symbols for me to proudly wear on my flesh.
My comerades of the NY WoD room had the brilliant idea of converging in one house. Alas. .the first attempt was a failure [due to incompetent management at Remax rentals] so our travel and exile from Fredericksburg, VA was. .well, insane to say the least.
Step into the visual realm for one second. Picture Baby, our galliant metal stallion being pillaged and plundered. Her ass thoroughly packed to the brim and ghetto-rigged by jump ropes from the local supermarket to keep it all in place because the invention of bungee cords seem to be a product of myth. Add several extra items of baggage, and a rear seat comfortably lined with a feather bed and faux mink blanket. Seems rather cramped, yes?
Now. .envision is more like a clown car. Add five people to said stallion. I have been transformed into a Christopher sandwhich between Scrappa and my darlin' boyfriend [mind you they are the day and night. The White Italian and the Black Brotha sharing the same name and birthday] Then. .came the italian sub sandwhich between "Mmm... Caramel Ho ho's" Derek, and my boy yet again. Just what I wanted. .sandwhiched between two stinky Italians from a day of moving.
I've learned that aterial posessions are just that. .things of sentient memory that can be replaced. [And a touch of anger management with a golf club with the items left behind. Theraputic at best to let the tears and aggression of being thoroughly screwed over from the whitest black motherfucker of the male persuasion to walk the earth]
So. .we set off. .Derek, Scrappa, Jally, Chris and yours truly in Baby by late evening for the endless ride to Louisville, KY. Smothered in the sandwhich piles with interchanging drivers of Derek and Scrappa, dining on 'baby batter' Ben and Jerry's Brownie Batter ice cream, the luxury of Djarum cloves and plenty of laughter. [I tell you this now, Hiveminds exist. When five friends from a meagar chat room merge in real life and the 'Hivemin'D!' units. .all hell broke loose. From cartoons and old school childhood memories forged from all of us into one conglomerate idea. To RP ideas, philosophy and general madness the birth of 'The Real World of Darkness' comic soon to be released in it's first debut issue online of our travel and experiences.
Kentucky was a short stay sad to say. .stoned madness and the writhing torments of 'Kitties!', Derek's babies and idle chatter, I had the humbling experience to travel with the true-blue Bone Gnawer that Scrappa is through his old turf and the rougher moments in his life on the streets. Sitting by the water and having the silent reflections of what we as a unit endured thus far. Truly a blessing to find the simple pleasures in life with people whom I know will be lifelong friends.
Alas. .it was time to be on the move again. We parted with Derek and Scrappa for the literal hell of four transfers of Greyhound busses. Mind you. .I now have a thorough hatred for those rolling mechanical bastards. Keep the dog on the track and not on the road. We then landed in Raleigh, NC at Jally's sister's place. .and thus been here for nearly a month now if not to the day. I've appreciated the south for vacation. .never would I think it be highly annoying if not utterly vexing on the nerves. .nor would I think I had missed the simple comforts of the north and familiar grounds. [If I hear one more ounce of rap I might forgo my lack of being racist and go on a music war with neighbors here. Let them drown in the throes of Maynard and the echo of Passive and The Outsider.]
Celebration, love and loss and lessons of life have been garnered from all of this. .for all the mental hell that this travel may have been, I feel as if I have found a new niche in this world that I belong in, and the comfort that I have my other halves. Chris has been a sense of stability and comfort when I needed it. .Jally has become the hybrid of myself and Jama. It's like having an older sister around for those morning cups of coffee and cig, to bitch and gripe about the most obscene things and have our 'girly moments' of chatter. .to stoned oblivion and sheer insanity. It's been a blast and when it comes time to part ways until our meeting once again, I can truly say I will feel like I have lost a part of myself. There are always other times to come. .the re-gathering of souls in one place just to celebrate the madness we all as one have created and savored. This my friends is what the world is about. .
To travel, to see the world for what it's worth, to roll with the good and the bad and take what experiences and memories you can and leave nothing but footprints. For now the gypsy in my heart has flourished and will forever remember this. And yet again, not one moment would I trade for anything else.
And through all of this comes the end [for now] of the Flight of the Scarab. .a permanent sign of temporary insanity to commemorate the travel. Fresh ink and perhaps one of the best symbols for me to proudly wear on my flesh.