August 17
At Black Canyon of the Gunnison (a doom name, to be sure), Kim’s guidebook claimed it had a ‘somber countenance’. I practiced taking pictures with a depressed expression. Mostly failure as doldrums do not come on cue. But that was before we left the sanctuary of the car to stand, in the spitting sideways rain, upon Pulpit Rock denouncing the Heavens and their cursed squabbles of a storm.
August 18
Kim saw the weather channel this morning and says that we will be following and followed by thunderstorms all the way across this country. We go like lightening, but it always catches up.
August 19
We race through states leaving behind a fluttering trail of maps by the side of the road. No longer useful to us: Nevada, Utah, Colorodo, Kansas, we abandon you like flotsom.
August 20
I bought a number of Wizard of Oz postcards in Kansas. Did you ever think about how the one really evil place in the movie is on a mountain? It makes sense that Kansas would be piss-pants terrified of mountains. Because they don’t got any.
great big nod. too bad these entries are not time-stamped, because you know that is what really makes journal entries good.
words i like in this entry:
* flotsom
* piss-pants
michele, you are a peach.
love, me