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Nuts on the High Seas
Dec. 19th, 2007 04:41 pmYesterday, we took the road trip I'd originally planned for Saturday, the "field work" for Chapter Two of Joey Lafaye. We left the house about 12:30 p.m. (though I'd hoped to leave sooner) and drove east on I-20 as far as Exit 160, which is really not too far from the Georgia/South Carolina state line. We went a short ways south, into a little place called Norwood in Taliaferro County, then followed Highway 278 northwest, crossed beneath I-20, to Crawfordsville. Just west of Crawfordsville, at the intersection of Lexington Road NW and Broad Street NW, we turned north onto Highway 22, crossing the Csx Transporation railroad. From there we followed 22 on to Lyneville, Carter's Grove, and Philomath. Despite the desolation of this portion of the Georgia Piedmont, which I have never cared for — all low scrubby pine and red-orange clay — there are sights along this road. Past Philomath, we exited 22 onto 78 and went to Lexington, an almost picturesque little place that seems mostly to be comprised of antique stores. Then there was Crawford, before we finally we finally reached Athens.
In Athens, we parked downtown and had coffee, then spent some time walking about Washington, Clayton and Lumpkin, revisiting the few of my old haunts that have survived, being appalled that a Starbuck's has replaced Blue Sky Coffee, and so forth. We crossed Broad and walked about the UGA quad a bit. There were squirrels everywhere, and bright yellow scatters of fallen ginkgo leaves and green islands of magnolias. We went down Washington to the 40-Watt Club and Pain and Wonder Tattoo, the scene of much of my misspent youth. Well, maybe not misspent, but definitely spent. The cold made my ears ache, and as the sun began to set, we headed back to the car. We drove over to Meigs Street, not far from where I lived from April 1994 until August 1997, because I wanted to find the spot where Addison Lynch's house will be in the novel. And then we headed home, taking 316 back to I-85 and Atlanta.
A total of 254 miles on the odometer. We were back home about 8 p.m.
It is impossible to visit Athens and not come away with a heavy sort of melancholy. Even with all the changes, it seems so much the same, and so much happened to me there. It's one of the few places that has ever felt like home to me. Oh, yeah, here are five photos, a not-quite random glimpse at the day (behind the cut):
( on the road )
When the world is a monster,
Bad to swallow you whole,
Kick the clay that holds the teeth in.
Throw your trolls out the door.
If you're needing inspiration,
Philomath is where I go by dawn.
Lawyer Jeff he knows the lowdown.
He's mighty bad to visit home.
I've been there, I know the way.
(Can't get there from here)
(R.E.M., "Can't Get There From Here")
Last night, some genuinely wonderful rp in Second Life. But not much else to report. Oh, I did get a check for $40.01 for royalties on "Escape Artist" from The Sandman: Book of Dreams. This is another of the three or four of my 100+ short-story sales that occasionally brings in a royalty check. That story was written in the summer of 1994, not long after I'd moved to Athens.
I'm not well today, in any sense, and I've somehow managed to be up since 11 ayem without having yet eaten anything, which isn't helping, I'm sure.
In Athens, we parked downtown and had coffee, then spent some time walking about Washington, Clayton and Lumpkin, revisiting the few of my old haunts that have survived, being appalled that a Starbuck's has replaced Blue Sky Coffee, and so forth. We crossed Broad and walked about the UGA quad a bit. There were squirrels everywhere, and bright yellow scatters of fallen ginkgo leaves and green islands of magnolias. We went down Washington to the 40-Watt Club and Pain and Wonder Tattoo, the scene of much of my misspent youth. Well, maybe not misspent, but definitely spent. The cold made my ears ache, and as the sun began to set, we headed back to the car. We drove over to Meigs Street, not far from where I lived from April 1994 until August 1997, because I wanted to find the spot where Addison Lynch's house will be in the novel. And then we headed home, taking 316 back to I-85 and Atlanta.
A total of 254 miles on the odometer. We were back home about 8 p.m.
It is impossible to visit Athens and not come away with a heavy sort of melancholy. Even with all the changes, it seems so much the same, and so much happened to me there. It's one of the few places that has ever felt like home to me. Oh, yeah, here are five photos, a not-quite random glimpse at the day (behind the cut):
When the world is a monster,
Bad to swallow you whole,
Kick the clay that holds the teeth in.
Throw your trolls out the door.
If you're needing inspiration,
Philomath is where I go by dawn.
Lawyer Jeff he knows the lowdown.
He's mighty bad to visit home.
I've been there, I know the way.
(Can't get there from here)
(R.E.M., "Can't Get There From Here")
Last night, some genuinely wonderful rp in Second Life. But not much else to report. Oh, I did get a check for $40.01 for royalties on "Escape Artist" from The Sandman: Book of Dreams. This is another of the three or four of my 100+ short-story sales that occasionally brings in a royalty check. That story was written in the summer of 1994, not long after I'd moved to Athens.
I'm not well today, in any sense, and I've somehow managed to be up since 11 ayem without having yet eaten anything, which isn't helping, I'm sure.
