Zzyzx, baby, Zzyzx
It is quaint to upload these pictures three whole days after I took them. While I could have done this instantaneously with my iPhone, I preferred to let the content, a dusty Mojave Desert offramp that was 112 degrees at 6 p.m., influence the medium. Also, I don't own an iPhone.Here is Zzyzx. Nothing much was happening. There were no bleached cattleskulls, tumbleweeds, or rattlesnakes. I did not take peyote with an Indian, neither casino nor call center. I did not go mad.
I was roughing it, however. I didn't turn my air conditioning on the entire trip. I am purifying myself and taking myself off the grid. I was not even able to shuffle the songs on my iPod, because it is three years old. I had to listen to them alphabetically. That's hard core.I was supposed to be driving with someone but he flaked. That is the Hollywood Way. But I was in Zzyzx, where the Old Ways are best.
In the end I returned to my car and drove toward Primm, which begins exactly at the Nevada border, where everything starts again. The same guy who flaked on the drive would flake on the hotel on the Strip, which reinforced my belief that Las Vegas is the Pheasant Lane Mall to Los Angeles' Lowell.
Previously: Primm, baby, Primm
posted
by Marty Barrett at Friday, July 13, 2007
2 Comments:
Marty! I was in Las Vegas last weekend, too! And I, too, went through Zzyzx! Why are you following me? I thought the restraining order made it clear that you're supposed to stop stalking me.
Crap! The restraining order was in Latin! While in Hesperia, I stayed with your Moms!
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