i wear my sun at my side

running water
Originally uploaded by jlovegren.

in order to brush up my french before coming to cameroon, i studied lists of typical foods eaten in france. it was decided that we'd eat jambon et beurre on petits pains on the drive through the desert. there was the matter of whether the key should be left under the mat while the AK was in the closet, and whether we should drive with the windows up and A/C off so as to be able to afford another bottle of whisky. i doubt that either got past the drawing board; we were in del rio by the time the first decision had to be made. the police harrassed us exactly as much as we figured border agents would a dirty carload of five different ethnicities. duylinh was the first to realize, after three days, that an eskimo pie is more refreshing than either a ham and butter sandwich, black label, roasted stew meat with curry sauce or tamarindo gummies, though frank was obstinate on this last point. we saw a vulture eating a snake in some spiny bushes, and my copy of diana had been stained with blood fromt he stew meat. on the road home, i woke up and the car was slowing down.
-fucking cops. look behind the ice chest for the insurance.
-the reason i pulled you over is because you ran a yellow light
-is that against the law?
-no, but i gotta pull you over still
-officer, are you smoking?
-no sir, it's coming from under your hood.