When we left Alis mom told us to fix the front left headlight. When we returned she said the same thing.
My mom gave me a hug, seven thousand kilometers and we didn’t fuck up once. I almost got a speeding ticket. That was it. Friends ask the question. You say it was good but can’t really explain.
Images from this trip flicker back to me:
Mexico – stripper with chipped teeth touches Alis inner thigh.
Utah – zion canyons deep red walls; watching discovery channel thunder and lightning on a river bank.
Arizona – new friends, new drunk munchies. Dice games in Viva.
California – san diego to san francisco, low light, highway 101.
No facebook album can correctly enunciate how I felt at those times.
Alex has managed to digest some of this trip and produce some stuff below. I haven’t started. Images to post as well as a whole tape of video footage to sift through and hopefully turn into something coherent. Give it a week.
PS: I just noticed how much Radiohead there is in Clueless. And there is a scene in which a character named Summer uses the word random to describe attendees at a party. Amy Heckerling was way ahead of Josh Schwartz.
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