The Beach Slum

      I have been refusing to make this post since it happened.              The family joke from the day I got Dani is that if she went, I went. I would die when she did. And I poured everything I had into making sure she did not. I poured everything I had into that car. The joke was that I would stop paying for repairs when she needed an engine rebuild, and even then, probably not. I'd probably rebuild it. We traded suffering. She drove me when I needed to cry and scream at night, and I suffered sweat and financial costs when she had some issue on the way to the beach.     I was so, so, so stupidly in love with that car. My pride and joy.     Notice the past tense? Tell me you see where this is going, because I want to cry writing this without even saying the words.     I always thought if Dani were to leave me, it would be in the kind way. One final wheeze to the beach and back, and I could let her g...

      Can I just say, in the nicest way possible, that Dani terrified me on the way there? I love her to bits and pieces, but I have a trauma response to passing the California welcome booth, because when her coolant relay gave out, that's where it gave out.     I don't think my passenger noticed, because at that point he was starting to yawn, but I was white-knuckling that whole area. Whatever, I've dealt with worse.     It was when we stopped to get gas that I might've fucked up a little. I say get gas, but that's a nicer way of saying my coffee ran through me and I was trying to let Nick sleep, but it was wake him up or pee myself. Needless to say, I pulled over at the next exit and woke him up.      When we got back from the bathrooms, a homeless guy wandered up to me-- me, who had decided to put gas in anyway, even though I had half a tank left, AND I saw the homeless guy, but I refused to be deterred from my mission-- and asked if ...

     Since I'm documenting this trip, I figured I should share the one thing I'm realizing about actual trips. The ones with nights, since you all know I mostly do beach days .      Packing is confusing!  It's a beach trip, but I know I'll need actual clothes since I will be perceived outside of the beach and hotel room and yet. I rearranged my beach duffle bag, packed four towels and four swimsuits with shoes and coverups, and I have not packed ANYTHING outside of that.      I literally leave the day after tomorrow. And I have no idea what clothes to pack. I have not even LOOKED at my suitcase. Holy God. Suddenly I can't remember what people put in suitcases to go places. Suddenly I want to pack like I'm going to shit my pants 27 times a day and be lost in the wilderness for a million years.     This is also going to be such a niche post, but maybe I've talked about him enough that you'll all understand/remember. My uncle is a...

      It has been so entirely long since I updated this!     In my defense, if you've read some of the past posts, you'd know Dani and I have had our fair share of trials when we drive to the beach, and so, regrettably, I've been a little shy about going. Not that I'm afraid of getting stranded; rather, I'm afraid of... I guess, causing damage so hardcore that I end up losing Dani forever. Which kind of traps me into a self-fulfilling Catch-22, doesn't it?     When I bought her, that was my primary love-- driving her up and down the coast-- and yet I am so afraid to lose her that I deprive her of our love. And so, before the California weather turns mildly chilly, I am endeavoring to the beach once more.     Okay. Also because I went on an opening to Florida, and I've never been, but some Florida beaches are on my list, and then I got eaten alive by bugs and told there was flesh-eating bacteria in the water, and so I was a beach-loving Pisces...

     Has anyone noticed how frequently I use movies' sequel titles to complete a part two title? Or, holy fuck, how these last two posts are fucking COVERED in rhetorical questions? I'm trying to stop, I swear.     Either way, I have continued adding to my list of beaches, because what kind of Pisces would I be if I didn't? I will not confine myself to California alone, despite my love of California beaches, which is why some of these don't have any travel plans, because they're farther away and will take some very specific plants. Also Grecian beaches still are not on this, because Greece is a horse of an entirely different color. Without further ado: BITCHIN’ BEACHES Prepared by Jackie OVERVIEW & PURPOSE A list of beaches that I think would truly help me as a person. At the very least, they’d help me feel serotonin. And figure my shit out. But then again, I don’t really know. A tour of the beaches before I die.  CORONADO, CALIFORNIA ✔ My safe beach. O...

      I make it sound so dramatic, but road trips are sacred. Holy. I'm not religious anymore but watching the sunrise from my car doing 90 on the interstate is truly ethereal. It's unlike any other experience. But you can only watch the sunrise at the perfect spot-- the sweet twists and turns shortly before Nevada stateline-- when you've hit the road before the sun has a chance to peek over the curtains of the world. I cherish that time. I cherish it, I worship it, I love that time. The privacy, the secrecy of the night, and then the way the sun lights everything you thought was dark and scary.     Naturally, I have rules. Say it with me: you can only watch the sunrise just before stateline if you've left early enough to reach stateline by sunrise.     Rule 1: Leave by 4am     This rule has a small amount of leeway. 2am is solid if you have to get gas and coffee. 3am is ideal, if you've already got a full tank and canned caffeine (the only k...

 Okay, okay. Am I the best at keeping up with a blog? No. I'll freely admit that. The only blog I've kept up with is my Tumblr, and that's because it's so easy to do. I reblog whatever I want, and there's an app.     This, on the other hand... This is about me taking my car on drives to the beach, a process that is infinitely harder than I expected. Did I expect to go to the beach every weekend? No. Did I expect to have so little free time, so little energy, that I could not bring myself to do a turn and burn? No.       Why do I keep asking rhetorical questions? I don't know. It's easier for me to answer things when they're questions. Ask me about my life and you'd better have a list, because I won't know where to start or what you mean.      Anyway.     I know I haven't finished my Peru story. I have about... two more entries to go, but don't quote me on that. I'd finish it now, but I'm in Virginia, on a work trip, and can't ...