does the pope shit in the woods?
I is back in dc now, following a brief jaunt through the lands of tobacco. not much to say. the trip was the same as always, aided by the company and good conversation of a hitchhiker, whom I shall refer to henceforce as the Hitchhiker. ah, the internets, point of connection for this lost generation of ours.
yes, I virtually picked up a hitchiker from the messageboards of the craigslist, cyberspace's secret museum of Naples, where all of the universe's desperation is manifest in the textual cries-for-help of individual humans. the rideshare section is quite handy for finding those fellow souls in need of transit, these restless spirits who spend their days pining for places other than the ones under their two feet. she turned out to be an interesting gal, the Hitchhiker, and was very nice to keep me awake despite her own exhaustion.
we (the royal we, of course) are back in the area now for a few more days, and then it's off to Galicia for a merry merry time. Asturias beckons too, with its Peaks of Europe, its bears, and its kingfishers, all eagerly awaiting their chance to devour my sleeping flesh.
then the ArcticChoke will be jumping on the Talgo, the world's slowest choo-choo train, all the way from the scorched lands of sangría and gazpacho, to spend some time in Galicia Country, taking in the sea-grime of Pontevedra's largest city. it is to shine in the setting sun, at twenty-two hundred hours, in all its salty glory.
then what? how about a trip to flamenco country? I shall somehow occupy an internal combustion engine of some sort with the Man-Well and steer it down south through Portugal, where all men stop their vans on interstates so that they can eat their ham sandwiches and feijoada on the roadside (see photo at left of my Portuguese driving outfit).
once in the caliphate of Al-Andalus I shall see my daughter MuhRreah, Jon and his lovely wife Gretchen, the other Manuel, and many other memorable characters, including my arch nemesis, TheRatWhoTalkedBehindMyBack. he knows who he is. grrrr.
who knows what else is in store.
adventure? please see the title of this entry. I shall prove it with a new 1GB memory card.
yes, I virtually picked up a hitchiker from the messageboards of the craigslist, cyberspace's secret museum of Naples, where all of the universe's desperation is manifest in the textual cries-for-help of individual humans. the rideshare section is quite handy for finding those fellow souls in need of transit, these restless spirits who spend their days pining for places other than the ones under their two feet. she turned out to be an interesting gal, the Hitchhiker, and was very nice to keep me awake despite her own exhaustion.
we (the royal we, of course) are back in the area now for a few more days, and then it's off to Galicia for a merry merry time. Asturias beckons too, with its Peaks of Europe, its bears, and its kingfishers, all eagerly awaiting their chance to devour my sleeping flesh.
then the ArcticChoke will be jumping on the Talgo, the world's slowest choo-choo train, all the way from the scorched lands of sangría and gazpacho, to spend some time in Galicia Country, taking in the sea-grime of Pontevedra's largest city. it is to shine in the setting sun, at twenty-two hundred hours, in all its salty glory.
then what? how about a trip to flamenco country? I shall somehow occupy an internal combustion engine of some sort with the Man-Well and steer it down south through Portugal, where all men stop their vans on interstates so that they can eat their ham sandwiches and feijoada on the roadside (see photo at left of my Portuguese driving outfit).once in the caliphate of Al-Andalus I shall see my daughter MuhRreah, Jon and his lovely wife Gretchen, the other Manuel, and many other memorable characters, including my arch nemesis, TheRatWhoTalkedBehindMyBack. he knows who he is. grrrr.
who knows what else is in store.
adventure? please see the title of this entry. I shall prove it with a new 1GB memory card.
posted by eduardo ramos at 9:53 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home