"fur, fangs, and scrotum-like wings" - alan

i've been told i set the bar high with my first post. i'd like to unequivocally state at this juncture that i don't know just who wrote that sexy, sexy post, but he must have been either tired or drunk. seeing as it's 11:20 am, and if catherine wakes up to me drinking beer i'll be in greater trouble than the hardware store sales of combination hammer/sickle sets during the reagan administration, i promise nothing.

nothing!

that being said, we have decided to embrace the idea of a journey free from constraints, except the one: always west. most of the time. we're not that great with ultimatums, or rules. but we excel in love.

stop saying "aww". i can hear you.

you should thank us. the way things are going, the laws of thermodynamics require the eventual heat-death of the universe. and who better to fight this? so, in deciding to embrace a law-less life, and being short one perpetual motion machine, we have taken this trip out of time and space. to us, there are but two points, our origin, and our destination. like wolverine, our origin will be shrouded in mist and myth, occasionally supposedly permeable, only to find out the whole revelation was a false memory implanted at the behest of a government agency keeping a lid on an alien invasion which has its roots in some incan ruin discovered by a lone adventurer estranged from his family who, being given super powers by a god long though dead, will ride the night winds searching for adventure and certain deeds, culminating in you wasting your childhood when you could have been studying math, you jerk.

so! origin and destination. the time of beginning, and of ending. all else is mutable. middle american condenses to one interstitial point, to be passed through at will, as though a gateway to some other, rainier dimension, albeit a point filled with rows of corn, livestock, and mount rushmore. surely these posts will reach you in some sort of discreet order, but let me assure you that under the influence of our travels, neither catherine nor i will be accessible to those of you trapped in the space-time continuum, or the less popular toast-butter continuum, where the increase of one of these factors decreases the amount of other to an observer, though in fact the consumer of the buttery toast never notices the difference.

what does all this mean? a handy wrap up:
we're taking our time in our pursuit of west coast happiness. we've stopped in rochester with some very nice people, some of whom might be related to some of us. but not me. and not alan, the gentleman who uttered the above quote in relation to the bats that were diving at us the other night, their pinched, evil faces filled with the malice borne of a diet full of bugs, when all they yearn for is a nice fettuccine al fredo.

we might also spend some time in chicago, when we get there.

m!