making it happen

work was slow as hell. everyone was jacked up on sugar. it evolved into a fun day. even still, maniacally overcaffeinated, i am riding a rather indestructable wave of optimism. my horoscope, which i read despite myself, said only "buy now, regret later," so i am foolishly waiting until later in the week to spend money on frivolous things, albeit things that have been gestating in my fancies for many months.
foremost: alaska, $377 RT. the fare has not fluctuated in months. it will probably never be cheaper again, the bastards. i want a foray after the divorce is finalized. i was looking at the last weekends of march, my ideals dimmed by the fact that it will still be ovary-shatteringly cold at that point, but i need to go somewhere. i need to git. i want to tread those distressingly familiar streets and relish the fact that i no longer live there. one of the AEC doctors (the flirty one) is going up this weekend to help with the iditarod. "you want me to say hello to anyone?" he asked. we know a lot of the same doctors. it is a small fucking world, and within that microcosm is alaska. and i love that, though i may have despised it when i actually dwelt there. knowing that everyone had slept with everyone else (i thankfully dodged the herpes breakout of '01). buying cigarettes at the store with my 6th grade teacher in line behind me. sleeping on a sofa with a guy whom i had 8th grade english with after a drunken new year's 2000 party and seeing him later that same night at the fucking office lounge (and proceeding to actually cry into my drink because he acted like he didn't know me... this is funny now). running into my parent's friends whilst in compromising situations. i am reminded that the majority of my alaska memories and subsequent shames involve drugs, alcohol, and sex. perhaps that is why i moved, and why i shall visit with a pearlescent sheen of virgin godliness.
or a pearlescent sheen, anyhow.
there is a book at the odious chain bookstore that describes the greatest examples of roadside americana. i have already been to many of the ones in washington, such as the 'stonehenge' near the columbia river and 'the world's largest egg' in winlock. others weren't mentioned, like the teeny church on hwy 2 (where my former uncle once got married, apparently- the uncle who has lived out of his car with his wench and their baby for the last 2 years, both of them unemployed, the daughter having difficulty walking because of said lair). or the teapot petrol station-turned-boarded up-artifact near the tri-cities. or the right-wing crazy fuck with the propoganda-spewing billboard erected on his farmland near centralia. then the smaller, less-iconic but still beloved gems: the smiling radio-station sun near ocean shores. the neon plunger on aurora avenue. the hammering man statue drinking a beer in front of the blue moon tavern. the bardahl oil sign. the wonder bread sign. the pepsi symbol. murals painted on the sides of barns advertising fruit. not looking too closely at spokane and simply admiring the brickiness, then stopping at the diner with the stupid name i cannot currently recall, the one with the huge lurid revolving sign that pokes out above the cement corridors of i-90, and sitting in a semicircular green pleather booth with sunlight shining through venetian blinds in frigid air-conditioning and opting for an iced tea that leaves streaks of condensation on the formica as the pie case twirls and old people dig into discounted meals, central washington sunburn adhering to the cold seat, reading the local NickelSaver as i wait for my order to arrive...
'how soon is now' is playing (here, in seattle): the only smiths song that is not only non-repugnant, but downright awesome. i may even include this in the yet-unwritten account of the 20 sexiest songs ever.
i will not edit or reread this, likely to my detriment.