Post by Jacky on Jan 3, 2008 18:36:36 GMT
It always happens in movies, doesn’t it? Friends move away from each other and lose touch. You get a new life, new people in it, new stories and a new part of your history dumped right on you when you move to another town. I was used to it when we moved to Georgia, because it obviously wasn’t the first time I went to a new place. But somehow it happens every time. Somewhere down the first year after the move you realize you’re doing it again; you’re forgetting to call your ‘old’ friends. You miss birthdays. You don’t know what they’re up to. Basically, you’re Losing Touch. Like in the movies, it’s unavoidable in real life as well.
I thought about them some times, of course, Ana and Nouky. But things changed fast, as I’m sure it did for them as well. It’s just that part of your life in which you finish High school, dump your then-girlfriend because you know nothing lasts, and you reach the age of being an adult, trying to figure out what to do next. Things were loud and extreme, changing like a whirlwind. After High school I could’ve gone to college or whatever. Most of my new friends did, but I wanted something different. The day after my eighteenth birthday I packed my stuff in two bags. One was the guitar-bag with my guitar in it, the other a bag with clothes, money, and a discman. I took off without ever knowing where I was headed.
I didn’t even know what I was looking for the day I left. But I guess I figured it out on my way. I needed to get away, do something different… find some stuff out.
Backpacking took me from Georgia to Tennessee, then Missouri. I never stayed anywhere for too long. Sometimes I stayed longer when I found a job and needed to make some money. Sometimes I’d just play my guitar on the streets to earn dinner or a place to stay. I made some friends on the road. I spend about two weeks avarage with people that headed the same way. I shared hotelrooms and partynights for two months with a girl who was headed for Las Vegas to find fame. None of these 'relations' lasted too long. It was perfect – the empty roads and the crazy cities, in which I found my home where I lay my head.
When I ended up in Tucson, Arizona, I stayed for three weeks in some truck driver motel along the highway, where I washed dishes for 10 bucks an hour. That place, in the kitchen that stank of roasted meat and grease, was where I first thought of Anouk and Ana after months.
~~~
”Jack, wash that up and you’ll be done.” The guy that owned the place was shoving stuff back into cupboards. It was nearly midnight by then.
“Alright.” I dumped the remains of beer down the sink, trying to get cigarette butts out of the glasses too. “Hey, I’m gonna go again sometime these days, alright?” I told my boss, shortly.
”Thought you were.” He shrugs, knowing the backpacking kind well enough. “Where ya headed?”
“East, I suppose.” I didn’t give it much thought yet.
”You should ask Tony, yknow, the big guy.” He mentioned one of the truck drivers that were staying in the place at that time. “He’s headed east. Bet ya can get a lift.”
“Where’s he going?”
”All the way to L.A., son.”
~~~
I didn’t sleep that night.
The next morning I asked Tony for a lift.
I thought about them some times, of course, Ana and Nouky. But things changed fast, as I’m sure it did for them as well. It’s just that part of your life in which you finish High school, dump your then-girlfriend because you know nothing lasts, and you reach the age of being an adult, trying to figure out what to do next. Things were loud and extreme, changing like a whirlwind. After High school I could’ve gone to college or whatever. Most of my new friends did, but I wanted something different. The day after my eighteenth birthday I packed my stuff in two bags. One was the guitar-bag with my guitar in it, the other a bag with clothes, money, and a discman. I took off without ever knowing where I was headed.
I didn’t even know what I was looking for the day I left. But I guess I figured it out on my way. I needed to get away, do something different… find some stuff out.
Backpacking took me from Georgia to Tennessee, then Missouri. I never stayed anywhere for too long. Sometimes I stayed longer when I found a job and needed to make some money. Sometimes I’d just play my guitar on the streets to earn dinner or a place to stay. I made some friends on the road. I spend about two weeks avarage with people that headed the same way. I shared hotelrooms and partynights for two months with a girl who was headed for Las Vegas to find fame. None of these 'relations' lasted too long. It was perfect – the empty roads and the crazy cities, in which I found my home where I lay my head.
When I ended up in Tucson, Arizona, I stayed for three weeks in some truck driver motel along the highway, where I washed dishes for 10 bucks an hour. That place, in the kitchen that stank of roasted meat and grease, was where I first thought of Anouk and Ana after months.
~~~
”Jack, wash that up and you’ll be done.” The guy that owned the place was shoving stuff back into cupboards. It was nearly midnight by then.
“Alright.” I dumped the remains of beer down the sink, trying to get cigarette butts out of the glasses too. “Hey, I’m gonna go again sometime these days, alright?” I told my boss, shortly.
”Thought you were.” He shrugs, knowing the backpacking kind well enough. “Where ya headed?”
“East, I suppose.” I didn’t give it much thought yet.
”You should ask Tony, yknow, the big guy.” He mentioned one of the truck drivers that were staying in the place at that time. “He’s headed east. Bet ya can get a lift.”
“Where’s he going?”
”All the way to L.A., son.”
~~~
I didn’t sleep that night.
The next morning I asked Tony for a lift.
