adamgoldbergasunwittingkerouac:

Ana-log:

Hotel El Rancho

Gallup, NM

Ate there and used the bathroom. A few times. But that’s another story. The trip or the charm anyway for all intents and purposes is over, as I am typing this on a desk in a room at a Radisson in Flagstaff, AZ. We however are in a sort of motel like adjunct to the main building reserved for pets and their owners and other degenerates. In fact there was a smoking, lingering vagrant looming inside, near the entry as I loaded up the cart. So there’s a little action here. 

A poignant addendum to the my Blue Sparrow musings: spoke with the owners, incredibly sweet and hospitable married couple who after being laid off from their jobs in Michigan decided to no longer be beholden to the corporation for whom they worked, picked up,  and started over in Tucumcari, buying  and restoring The Blue Sparrow.  Jazz, this time theirs, stirred me from sleep this morning, wafted into the room from a small speaker in the garden disguised as a rock. It’s a hopeful little island among the ruins of what appeared to be once a hopping post-war town. I hope my 120 film comes out alright. But in either case I managed to have an authentic experience in spite or in concurrence with my stock meta reflection. And that’s what counts. No, I hope my film comes alright.