Day 8 ~ Olympia Coven Media Center
Oh gawd I am back on updating the Blog after being in blog silence for a week of insane readings and running in to everyone I have ever been in love with on the entire west coast except all at once. SO MANY BURRITOS !!! Also I have to gush about the Tooscon Aridzona Ultra city block sized coffee shop o rama me and Pletts are hidden out at right now; Its like a strange enviroment designed for bloggers and they just cater to your every craving while we lounge under a tree in a rock garden drinking pumkin beer with our lap tops charging off the outlet at the base of the tree…
So allthough this is the DAY 8 blog entry, I am actually talking to you from the DAY 16th Entry. Im… Im still settling myself. I’ve been trying to do the blog for days and 8 days of 2000 miles of retriggering stuff sort of like emotions maybe and WHAT IF I SPEND APRIL IN OAKLAND CREATING AN ART SHOW AT THE CENTER FOR SEXUAL STUDIES ART GALLERY ? Huh ?
Y’know; right now I’ve just been biding my time until my toronto art studio, House of Lamb, gets torn down for a new condo project. But they keep putting it off so If i’m trying to galavant around the country doing insane art stunt stuff all the time to generate content for my blog then I need a way to make this sustainable and having a home base that is also registered corporate address makes me have a much easier time going over the border. and like credit cards and stuff.
Do I remember properly the ride in to Olympia ? I havnt updated in a while But i think this was the stretch of road with little revolting ghost towns everywhere. We took some mountain road and passed through all these little cross roads with a 1950s tiki architecture themed roadhouse gokart love motel that was closed, covered in 60 year old restauraunt grease, and across the street is something like a gas station for mining equipment and a barbed wire fence arround a 20 foot high stack of giant oil drums. Me and Plett looked briefly in to buying the barbed wire lot and throwing a 53foot metal storage container in there and It can be the Medium Sized Rock Candy Mountain Writers Retreat with seriously no distractions at all ever forever. and I will run an esspresso stand for truckers and people who thought they found a short cut. My esspresso stand will have a giant sign that says LAST ESSPRESSO FOR 300 MILES IN ANY DIRECTION.
We came in to OLYMPIA INTER COVEN MEDIA RESOURCE CENTER at the last possible minute to be greated by a gaggle of Moss covered witches. Witches running all over the front of the center gobbling giant wooden bowels of salad. Readers Included topside co-conspirator Cooper telling stories of being a high school janitor and me sweet baby lambykin Gretchasketchy GG IRKALLA. Shes a zinester and media prankster, signs super iregular overly complicated mystical street queen punk in the band WHOREMONES and she has a denim jacket with a big witches w dicks patch and she has skulls in her hip hop goth dreads. A bewildered but delighted Tom Leger Appeared in the middle of everything and he was just kicking it in a big gagle of hippies and WILLY GREENTEETHS and having all the witchywoo trigger some highschool dating trauma he has never completely explained.
The reading had a 15 minute for people to be rubbed down with savory and step in and out of a moon symbol. Toms jaw dropped to his nipples and he dove out a window. I rolled arround on the floor in a bunch of savory bleating cuz LAMBS LOVE SAVORY.
Several hours later Me n GG n Plett and GG’s new wife all ditched out of some secret high stakes inner circle topside meeting at CasaDelBurrito and totally ditched on driving to the next city that night like we where supposed to and we filled the trunk of the VANGUARD MOBILE with 7$ wine bottle and drove around the outskirts of Olympia for 2 hours looking for a punk show some kids had been talking earlier about in between gobbling wooden bowls of salad.
As it turns our, Punk shows in Barns on rainy nights on the outskirts of Olympia on a tuesday night, in spite of all the witches, end at the horribly early hour of 1:45 am !! I’m sure I’m just a bit metric confused, being canadian and all. Anyways, out little crew hung out in their living room anyways and bade them all good night one after each as the washed up and went to bed. then we hung out fo another hour getting rid of that excess of wine we foolishly brought before we could drive to PDX.
And Lucky thing I did ! Got to meet Another cool sister with TBI ! MAXINE CATFISH came home to Sollan Farm at like 6 am and burst in the front door holding a big platter of roast cat fish. relaxedly letting her attention wander arround the back yard of the big little country house Max expressed her bewilderment that it had been vital to her to come see who this punk trans girl who has Traumatic brain injury and wrote a book about it in a deliberate eratic cognition that makes word salad evocative! Max had her head caved in a just ever so slightly overly ambitious bike stunt gone awry; she’d missed the show cuz she’d wanted to come but at the last minute the whole notion had seemed as impossible as if she’d been told she’d have to fabricate a boat from whatever she could find to get there.
so to make it up to us when she heard we had just camped at her house harassing her housemates every time they got up to pee, she roasted us a catfish. She wasnt sure why she had that idea. She really needed a nap.
So did we and we crashed at GG’s house in a pile of runes and fox fur. In the morning I made Plett drive back and forth across olympia 4 times for having lost my phone, jean jacket, change purse, lap top charger. it was actually all in the pile of fox fur at GGs but we went back to Max’s for cat fish 3 times anyways cuz those where the only 2 places we remembered how to find. Eventually I found all my worldly belongings because of Olypia Magic and we drove back out in to the mountains and their antenas on the ground behind fences and boarded up gas stations with blackberries growing out of the pumps and hit the black magic black top.
punk show taco brain damage 4rth street loosing stuff.