Tag: arizona

Scrub Notes, Bird Notes: Tucson, June 2024

~ johnbrandall

I. Intro: getting there
II. Other trip expenses, so far:
III. Bird notes
IV. We did what we did when we did it
V. Firmament
VI. Scrub notes
VII. Brittlebush and the voice of a bird
VIII. A room in the desert
IX. Birdsong notes
X. It left when we rained

I. Intro: getting there

Find me at the fairgrounds, it's as good a place as any, in whichever county you may seat. Quilt-mart. Family-style catfish. Steel, brown, breaking. Stave, stave off. Hot week, water down, the sun is stronger than we think. Strong corn, striped grass, green green.

Cosign for sonic coins. This is where we got run off the road last time, remember? Walk the river, find the seam, undo the enigma. Tapes in storage, do they still speak? The smell of gold I know only from a dream. Rusted rocking horse moving oil along the line. Flat Kansas, open air. Raw emotion, sudden ocean, pay dirt mining away...



Find the full post here...

I Don’t Know What It Is About A Field—Part Two

~ johnbrandall

Left Tucumcari, New Mexico at 8:40. The woman at the Best Western when I checked out says, "You look like you could use more sleep." Oh, thanks! What a nice thing for you to say. Yeah, I could have used some more sleep. But other guests stirring early, doors clanging, and then someone freaking out when a cat jumped out of the hallway trash can meant it was time for me to get out of bed. That and needing to drive another eight hours today.

I'm on U.S. Highway 54 headed east. This highway takes me all the way to Wichita. Land is mostly flat. Ranch land. Cattle grazing. Mesas in the distance, to the west. Lots of Aermotors. I've realized that's a trademarked name for the old-style windmills.

Lots of empty buildings here. There were lots of them in Tucumcari, too. That town is hollowed out. Abandoned homes. I suppose Tucumcari had its day. Post World War II. Car culture. Route 66. Before passenger air travel proliferated...


The second and final part of the travelogue continues here...

The Only Good Way to Get a Really Good Suntan is to Start with a Really Bad Burn

~ johnbrandall ~ Leave a comment

And tomorrow I will circumautolate another part of the country, virgin to me, assuming I make it onto the plane.  We fly to AriZona to visit River's parents.  They say they have enough water but I am afraid they will try to tap into her, claiming genetic rights of appropriation.  Gila, Salt, Colorado, her.  I imagine large red rock formations, poisonous creatures of sand, water-hoarding cacti, shimmers of heat appearing to rise in the distance off of the road we are traveling.  Lizards, near-tropical birds, political animals, billboards, a pool, a cadre of golf courses.  I need only the stars, a red light and enough sobriety to make a little sense of a timeless sky.  I will not pack any of my meths but I shall be able to get plenty of them there, for paper scratch.


Full travelogue here...