cellini's Diaryland Diary

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A Distant Thrum

Tomorrow morning I leave for Miss0uri. Its a two day drive. Today I drove into town on my own to make sure that I'm able to drive with this injury.

It wasn't easy hitting the clutch pedal. Every time its like a lightning bolt through the side of my foot. I figure that the 2,000 mile round trip is mostly highway driving and I won't have to punch the clutch too many times.

I stopped downtown and limped the two blocks to my father's office where I picked up an old pair of crutches he'd brought in for me. Then on my way to the bank I ran into my friend Albie, who happens to be an osteopathic physician with a big bushy gray beard.

Albie left his private practice decades ago since he and his wife have enough money to do pretty much whatever they want. They have this 'Little Eng1ne That Could' fortune. His wife's grandfather wrote the book ages ago and the royalties keep them well provided for.

Anyway, Albie saw me on crutches and had me pull my shoe off right there on the street for an examination. He diagnosed a torn l1gment of the 5th met@tarsal. There isn't anything more that can be done for it beyond what I'm already doing, aside from treating the pain.

Albie owns half of the buildings downtown. Many millions of dollars worth of real estate. He likes to do a lot of the maintenance and painting himself and so when he comes downtown he's usually dressed in ratty old paint-splattered clothes. It looked perfectly ridiculous to anyone passing by. There I was with my shoe off and crutches leaned against the curb while what appeared to be an old homeless man inspected my foot.

In a few days I'm going to see Jenny. She's meeting me at my hotel in Missouri for a night or two. It is good to have that to look forward to. Travel is usually very lonely for me. The nights are usually the worst. When it gets late and I sit in my hotel room, alone.

Most people watch television in hotel rooms but I almost never do. Maybe flip on the news in the morning now and then. I can't stand the commercials and I can't stand the shit that comes out of people's mouths. Most of it is 'reality TV' these days and I think almost all of it is absolute shit. I don't like the assinine filters of corporate dipshits in Los Angeles entertainment industry meeting rooms coming between my brain and the universe.

I prefer to keep my life focused on the real. On the succession of mushrooms that sprout and fade in the woods. On the sound of tree frogs calling to each other. People chattering at cafes. This is usually a very pleasant way to exist but in the sterility of a suburban hotel room its just me and the distant thrum of the highway exit.

12:21 a.m. - 2011-08-23

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