Driving On The Moon (Through Utah)

*Some observations while en route to Tahoe with Walter. Circa 9/07

The Tao of Interstate Travel: If speed be your biggest concern, then listen to anything that will give your tires some mean cajones. Of course, this can only be executed with casual flair and total nonchalance. And that's impossible to fake. Think James Bond, only cooler.

But alas, one must be careful. Usually anything with an acoustic guitar should be abandoned. After all, 007 would never, ever listen to James-fuckin'- Taylor.

When I drive I need to hear the sounds of the borealis slicing through the cosmos, the irascible concertos that play behind feral belly dancers at full-moon harvest orgies.
Give me Hendrix, Bowie, Zappa, Biscuits.
I want the fires of the apocalypse in the rear-view, rearing their heads above the horizon.
Then I'll flick my cigarette butt out the window.

*~*~*

*To describe the physical landscape of Utah I can only say this: think of Kansas' older sister that just hit puberty.

*I've noticed that Utah mountains don't have much personality--they lack the charm, the magnetizing allure of the Rockies. But still there's a peculiar magic about them, as if they're whispering to each other scandalous secrets too lofty for the comprehension of Man.