fuck memphis

Woke up in Swede’s studio around noon to Trip meowing questioningly. There is something truely magical about that cat. That cat has more personality that most of the girls i have met on myspace.

I drive my rental car back to Enterprise, complete with Popeye’s chicken bones and empty bottles of abita littering the floor of the passenger side. The look on that woman’s face when i slid into parking lot going 35mph, scrape the front on the curb and jump out.

I grab my cowboy hat and my bags and get a ride to train station. I get on, get drunk and end up sitting and reading for most of the trip. I get off at Jackson and bum a handrolled cig from this long haired hippy. Named Gabriel, we sit and talk about new orleans, what we were both doing down there, drugs, etc. The typical get to know you bullshit. He’s a die hard hippy, talking about how he’s been living in a tent for the last 2 months and by led zepplin tattoos that he’s probably not lying. He’s been down there doing demolition and roofing and talking about how tired he is after all the work he’s been doing. He asks me what i was doing down there and i explain how i am web jesus, sent to new orleans to save from their website sins. He asks how many hours a week i work. I tell him as few as possible.
The train finally gets to memphis and i feel that wonderful wave of depression wash over me when i realize that suicide or moving seems to be the plan for this fall. Something has to change, undeniable dliemia. Memphis is not a burden anyone should bear.

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