The problem is for someone like me who has no children, hates hot weather, and relies on the idiot box for entertainment, friendship and companionship, this time of year is actualy the least ideal time for me to get away from my busy daily grind. (Who am I kidding? My current daily grind would barely harvest a single ground of Sanka let alone a pot of Colombian Dark Roast.)
When I used to do this writing thing for a living, I never really at any point found myself at a loss for words. Even if I had nothing pressing to bitch about I still could find something positive or constructive to add to the collective consciousness.
Right now the world is just sort of happening all around me and I'm sort of numb to the whole thing. Nothing is really sparking my interest on any level...good or bad. Sorry but debating the pros and cons of the so-called health care reform bill winding its way down the Congressional crapper, playing pin the tail on the "real culprit" who ultimately killed Michael Jackson, or kicking dirt on now former Chicago Blackhawks' GM Dale Tallon's corpse over what could be a "bill of goods" sold to the team by their arch nemesis Detroit Red Wings in now questionably-healthy and newly minted millionaire forward Marian Hossa, really leaves me flat.
I do have some stuff "in the can" that I want to share but at this time I'm just not able to organize my thoughts well enough to free them from the bowels of my mind. So I've decided to take a break from blogging and throw myself a "Writer's Block Party" to shake off some of the rust from all the stalled story ideas I am currently saddled with. I may even take it one step further and make this block party a road trip.
I know my travel budget is fairly limited since I haven't had a real paying job since the Taft administration but in order to recharge my cranial 9-volts I think I need to go ahead and take a much needed vacation.
The $6.40 question (about what I can afford to spend on a trip) is where? Where do I want to go in the world that would pique my interest, raise my spirits, and arouse...well pretty much anything in me.
Lets start with where I've been:
Illinois. Much like all of the Star Wars movies as well as the countless number of rejection letters from potential employers I continue to receive on a weekly basis, I've seen it before.
With apologies to Johnny Cash...
I've been to Palatine, Mundelein, Oregon, Oblong
Plano, Murphysboro, Wasco, Roscoe
Berwyn, Burr Ridge, Bourbonnais, Berkley
DuQuoin, DuPage, Dupo, Dundee
Oak Forest, Oak Lawn, Oak Brook, Oak Park
Elmwood Park, Orland Park, Loves Park, Forest Park
I've visited Zion and did not run into Morpheus or any of The Matrix cast. I've been through Springfield (and Shelbyville for that matter) without seeing The Simpsons and flew into Metropolis without a single sighting of Clark Kent.
I've been to the Friendship Festival in Kankakee, the Sweet Corn Festival in Hoopeston, and the Turkey Testicle Festival in Sandwich. Believe me...I've been everywhere, man!
Florida. A return trip to "America's wang" does intrigue me on some levels (mostly to see if the hillbilly hell hole I lived in during my adolescent and teen years still can support carbon based life and if the school system ever got past teaching the letter "G" in its English curriculum). Despite never having seen attractions like Disney World, Universal Studios, or Epcot Center the entire eight years I lived there (though I did get to see the Alligator Farm as well as several drunken college football tailgate parties in assorted collegiate venues' parking lots) I think that's a destination I can cross off my "to do" list, y'all.
Arizona. Made some truly "wonderful" driving memories with a few of my close friends on several cross-country trips from Chicago to Mesa and back; most of which had to do with our group's collective lack of maturity, personal hygiene, or the substandard accommodations we chose to partake in.
Aside from a visit to the Grand Canyon, my vacation memories of the Sunburn State primarily consist of staying at my friend's Aunt's house (whose amenities featured an average of no more than 15 seconds of luke warm water per shower and an air conditioner that shook and cried in pain when I turned it down one night from 82 to 70 degrees), using the tub at the Motel Five as a urinal after the toilet backed up, listening to my one friend have a loud conversation with himself in his sleep about someone named Barry, giggling uncontrollably at the movie theater marquee outside of a Perkins Restaurant which claimed to be showing the movie "Forrest Hump", trying to identify which homeless people under the viaducts reminded us of former professional athletes (I swear I saw Houston Astros legend J.R. Richard pushing a shopping cart), and me falling asleep at the wheel of my friend's minivan for a good minute or so and not really caring about the peril we were in either (even after the wheels started rubbing against the shoulder) as the sun rose over an endless strip of this boring highway to hell we were on.
Nevada. Okay, we're obviously talking about Las Vegas here as there is really no other viable reason to visit Nevada (unless you want to see Reno or Area 51). Despite my extraordinary track record of gambling futility, I usually enjoy my trips to Las Vegas. I have to say though, my last few visits have really been hit or miss. The Las Vegas Strip is really dying. The economy has pretty much taken the middle class out of the casinos leaving only the rich and powerful whales at the Wynn and the Bellagio and the penny-slots-and-$1.99-steak-and-eggs-in-the-ghetto-part-of-the-Strip crowd. Even the cadre of hispanic folks handing out burlesque flyers and hooker rookie cards to the many passers-by have disappeared. The once picturesque skyline is now muddled by half-finished buildings and decrepit older casinos who have yet to be put out to pasture. Add to that the disappointment of my last two Miss Illinois titleholders being cheated out of their rightful place in the Top 10 at the Miss America Pageant and me being molested by some fat dope sitting next to me (who must have mistook my leg for a succulent pork chop with applesauce) on one of the plane rides back, and I've pretty much cashed in my chips on Vegas. What happens there can basically stay there, in my book.
I've been through other states but can't honestly say I've made any lasting memories in those places. I saw the Rocky Mountains and the Painted Desert. I've seen Nebraska and Iowa...yay, corn. Ate a Whopper with some "unexpected" toppings in Colorado (we'll leave it at that), saw a cow try to hump a pick-up truck in Oklahoma, lost my swimming trunks in the wake while tubing in Michigan, watched my grandmother drive off the road into the grassy median and then back on again in Wisconsin, accidentally defiled a book from the 1700's at the University of Notre Dame library in Indiana, got pulled over in Texas for speeding late one night with the ultimate irony of The Eagles' "Life in the Fast Lane" blaring on the radio, and took photos of the highway signs in Dix, Illinois and Beaver, Utah. Ah, memories.
Sure there are other places I would like to visit. San Francisco, Seattle, New York, Vancouver and maybe even Intercourse, PA. Beyond that, I think I get more relaxation and pleasure out of reliving old memories of respites past than I do of thinking about planning future ones.
Airline travel is such a pain right now and I still don't know how my friends and I managed to drive cross country all those times without the aid of a GPS or an iPod...or air conditioning.
No, I think I'll just stay right here, fill up the tub, insert my aquarium's air pump hose into the water to make a Polish jacuzzi, microwave some Pizza Rolls, pour myself a glass of Ginger Ale, and toast to one of the most relaxing trips a writer like myself can take...a trip down memory lane.
Now if I could just get over this writer's block and think of something to write for my blog...hmmm.
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