rock over London. rock on, Chicago.

muzak 4 2day: Harry Belafonte, Johnny Cash. White Stripes.

I woke up at 9 am eastern. Actually slept better in the car than in the Econolodge back in Kansas (econolodge – what a name). I didn’t sleep steadily, but I think that was due to the fact that I was a little jumpy. never slept in a car before, in a parking lot, in the cold, in a strange state. very foreign circumstances. cut me some slack.
so I brushed my teeth standing on a curb in front of a supermarket, pulled on all of yesterday’s clothing, and called the state highway authority to make sure 550 to Farmington was passable. they said it was.
it was snowing so fucking hard halfway there that I had to stop and snap the ice off my antenna before it broke the whole thing off. good fucking christ.
made it out, though. after the snow died down, I could finally see the mountains – something I had missed out on due to the inclimate weather the day before.
drove through Shiprock around noon. there are some poor ass Indians in this country, I’ll tell you what. think “rural slum.”
got gas in Teec Nos Pos, just inside the Arizona line. its kind of like the first town inside the Navajo Nation – which is roughly the entire northeast quadrant of the state. the teenage girl who worked the counter had these deep cuts all over her arms.
I could think of three things they could have come from: 1) herself (she’s a “cutter”), 2) an accident, or 3) (and I apologize for the speculation, I’m just a dumb cracker) it was religious, ceremonial. whatever. they looked like they hurt.

I did a loop up in to Utah (I was officially in Utah, too! how many states is it, bitches!?) so I could come down US 163 through Monument Valley.

Monument Valley made the entire trip worth it. words can’t describe how beautiful it really is.

I kept on through Page, where I got a really awesome view of Lake Powell at this overlook. could see for miles. some rabid german Green Day fans, however, pulled in behind me about ten minutes after I had been up there and ruined the serenity. heh. they were ridiculous.
from Page went back into Utah to pick up Route 9. 9 runs through Zion Nat. Park, and it’s basically the only way to get to Vegas without making a sick huge detour, halfway up the state. normally, it costs 20$ to drive through, but the park was kind of “closed” for the day; by the time I got there at like 6:30.
dusk. no toll. ding!
the park clears out when it gets dark, it seems, cause you can’t see much in the dark. but I could see enough.
I saw enough. once again, words can’t describe. the hills can make you feel small, no doubt.
I finished the day with an 80 mph jaunt down the interstate into Las Vegas. the city just appears when you come over the mountains in the north. at night, seems like you can see it’s glow a good twenty miles beforehand. that’s Las Vegas for you, I suppose: it gets real garish, real quick.
I parked at the Barbary Coast, and met Mike and Jim for dinner. coaxed Dan to leave the room for the first time in days (he’s down the street playing 1-5 stud at the Mirage right now) and lost ten dollars on 25 cent video poker. fuck that game.

right now, I’m in the Bellagio. I’d imagine, obviously without basis or warrant (most of my musings are like this) but this casino, which I’m told is at the top of the game, must be one of the shining end results of capitalism. others could be things like the NYSE, teenage girls with their own plastic on shopping frenzies. you know, just absurd sums of money spent on pleasure, people who can’t afford to throwing their money away on games of chance – the corporations that own these bordellos getting richer.
outside the Bellagio, when I was coming in, I saw this dirty hobo. one arm. in a wheelchair. panhandling with his baseball hat. just outside the Bellagio with its Armani, Dior, Jimmy Choo. its Versace, its “Picasso Restaurant” overlooking Lake Bellagio, marble floors and the multimillion dollar ceiling decoration in the hotel lobby, there’s this filthy bearded guy who smells like piss, who can’t really form words too quickly and wants whatever change you’re not going to dump on a 4-8 game in the makeshift poker room that’s always filled with people who’ve been watching reruns of Tilt on ESPN. he’s probably going to spend it on booze. or the cheap all you can eat buffets at one of the “shitty” casinos down the street.
so if the casinos are the successful results of capitalism, that would make the one armed homeless guy in the wheelchair its failure.

“10.50 for a Miller Lite. and I didn’t even see any ass.”