Landon Manucci

We decided to stay another day in Denver to get some shit done. For one, we booked a hotel for Iowa City. And, I found a place to live in Chicago. For real this time, sans landlord. A place where the stay is short term until I can get a job and my feet on the proverbial ground. Thank you God. My roommate seems like a rad dude. He wants me to see Shellac with him on Saturday, which I’m totally down for. John-Michael and I also got to check out the Denver Art Museum, which was pretty good.  We also played a lot of Mario Cart Wii.

Today, we’re back on the road.

The windshield is an insect graveyard.

Nebraska:

Take these images and copy and paste it 1000 times all around you and you’ll get an idea of what Nebraska looks like. Fields of corn and leafy vegetables waving us forward. After awhile you get kind of used to it, though. There might also be a little farm house  wedged in between loaves of green hills. And it was so humid, you could grab clumps of air and slick back your hair.

But man, what the fuck do you do in Nebraska? John asked a loud Subway employee at the local-franchise-conjoined-with-gas-station the aforementioned question.

“Go to the lake, get drunk.”

Damn.

Fucking Nebraska.

Anyway after like all day we entered Iowa.

Iowa is lush with trees and hills. Very green. Whereas Nebraska seemed like a state made for passing through, Iowa felt like a real romantic kind of state, filled with Americana dreams of rich yielding soil, fresh corn, and green hills that rise and give like curves of a woman. We stopped at a rest stop and saw the sunset, violet on the horizon, a thumbnail moon on satin blue. It was then, sitting at a bench, looking out towards the darkening fields of corn, did I see fireflies for the first time. Little flashes of neon green.

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After observing John and I’s mental state on this journey, I want to explore something of a phenomenon I’ve found. I’ve dubbed it, Road Mind. After long periods of driving, you might acquire a long and spacey stare to their gaze. Your ass is going numb and you might start mumbling some half-baked thought to your fellow passenger who has no idea what you are talking about. Or you might start laughing really hard. Or start to believe that it is not your car that is moving, but the road itself that is moving you.

At this point, being an astute passenger seeing all these symptoms, you might want to tell your buddy, Hey bro, how’s about you let me drive? This is a good thing. Give your road-stoned partner time to recoup. Now it’s your turn.

Road Mind I believe is a kind of high. When driving, there is a pointed concentration to your being, the road. Your thoughts are smooth and go along the sweet and gray road with a gentle and rivered pace that is not only calming and relaxing, but with the right pit stops and drinks and smokes, you feel you could seemingly drive forever.

We just ate at Perkins.

This is was the longest leg of our journey.

We are both so tired.

Tomorrow, we are going to hang around Iowa City for a bit and will be in Chicago by tomorrow night.

Chicago.

Boulder, Colorado.

A sweet town. A college town. If Portland, Oregon and Flagstaff, Arizona had sex, their love child would be Boulder.

But really, Boulder is it’s own animal. Apparently, hackey sack was invented here.  Damn.

Boulder has some cool shops. This place was a kite store.

And on Pearl St. (the main strip), there’s some street performers. Like this guy.

He’s so talented.

Ah and then we went to a brewery.

Boulder Beer Company. Great beer. One of my favorites. And I had never been to a brewery before. So, away we go!

First they throw in all the ground up stuff (hops, barley) with this.

Then, they bring it to a nice, sweet smelling boil and it brews in this.

“So hey bro. Where do you work?”

” Oh. I work at a brewery. I give tours and talk about the brewing process and get to drink a lot of really good beer and hang out and meet with cool people like four days a week.”

“Damn.”

Yeah. That guy (on the left) has a sweet job.

Anyway, and then the beer (at this point not quite beer, its beer but it’s not carbonated nor achoholated) down to these things.

Then it’s bottled!

Then stored in the coolers, waiting to be shipped out.

At the end we got to try all the beers with the rest of the chill bros we toured with.

John and I were in happy places.

Beautiful Boulder.

On the way back to my mom’s.

Listening to tapes.

Tomorrow we head out toward Iowa. Blasting through Nebraska to hang out in Iowa City.

I am at the half-way way point now on this trip. And from here on out I am going to places to where I don’t know what to expect.

I talked to a new Landlord. (Thanks Kelsey!)  Seems really promising.

I’ve taken the leap.

I’m ready.

Colorado.

We headed to downtown Denver on their  Light Rail  to spend the afternoon and grab some lunch.

My mom, youngest sister, and step-dad:

Denver! I love this city. Every time I come here, I have a great time. Its a clean and friendly place with a cultural history to boot.

And,  my favorite bookstore is here.The Tattered Cover. It’s two stories.

Sorry the interior one is a bit fuzzy, but doesn’t it just ooze grab-a-book-and-curl-up-on-the-couch? Oh yeah.

In Colorado, people eat burgers made of buffalo meat here.

Yes, buffalo.

Buffalo are sweet, but I have yet to see one around here (or, God forbid, eat one). They graze about the entire state,  and herd throughout the rolling hills.

Colorado also has some of the best breweries in the nation. New Belgium, Boulder Beer Company, Odell, just to name a few, scattered throughout the state.

Tomorrow we’re going to Boulder.  Where hippies and yuppies can mingle in harmony under the mighty Rockies.

Something fun.

The Land of Enchantment.

It has been a long day. 16 hours. I’m so tired, my eyes hurt. John and I are both a little delusional, so bear with me.

The New Mexico desert is beautiful. It smells really good too.  Like fresh dirt, sweet desert grass, pure air.  The sky is huge, the people ask you “Red, or green?”, and the horizon never stops.

Local fauna:

We didn’t want to do the straight shot thing, again.  So we decided to make a couple stops.

We stopped at a place called Santuario de Chimayo. It is a sacred chapel that is built in the valley of the Sangre de Christo mountain ranges in Chimayo, New Mexico, just past Santa Fe. Apparently, the dirt there is holy and curative. People come from around the world to see this place. John-Michael wanted us to fast, to abstain from all physical nourishment, so we went the whole 6 hours to get there on no food. (There is an idea behind this, an idea based on abstaining from the physical for complete nourshment for the spirit. In other words, we wanted to make this pilgramige legit as fuck.)   And the place was beautiful. There were many relics from the catholic religion, plus some strange ones too like creepy dolls dressed up in white lace, a wood carved Jesus, a sea of wallet sized pictures of children on the walls, a collaged bulliten board of payers. But I sat in the sanctuary, the main room, where it was quiet (no pictures allowed) and  I got to pray a little, meditate. It was quiet. It was peaceful. A coming together of people for a common goal, peace. After that I felt safe, protected, and calm.

Then, we had planned on seeing the D.H. Lawrence Ranch in Taos, New Mexico. Taos is beautiful, a quaint, artsy southwestern mountain town (think Sedona without the exploitation) that offered great coffee and friendly, helpful people. But, I don’t know, we got lost, and the place was closed. Damn.

Anyway, we made it. Colorado. Staying with more of my family out here.

John’s passed out.

I’m doing the same.

Laaaaaate.

El Paso:

John felt at home.

He loved Texas, and Texas loved him.

My grandmother insisted and she bought me new shoes AND pants. (I’ll admit, I needed them.) (Also, this post is dedicated to my loving family out there. I am so thankful)

We saw two nations separated. By a wall.

Then the vast valley that Juarez and El Paso share.

From up there, you can see an area of land that holds a million people. You could look down and see all these tiny toy cars along the freeway, little Playschool factories, then there you are, at the edge of a cliff.  How can you feel significant as a single human being, as a single person?  But you have to believe, that to be significant, you have to live your life.

Oh and Phoenix, El Paso has Mexican food that can rival yours any day.  John-Michael is a convert.

However, on all roads one must eventually run into some speed bumps:

I called my prospective Landlord out in Chicago about my renting application. He told me that him and the prospective roommate had some concerns. Because I didn’t have a job (no matter how much money I had saved in the bank), they were very sceptical about my tenency there.  Blame the economy.

And so I’m homeless again, or at least until I can figure something out.  I’ll keep you posted.

Tomorrow, Colorado!

Freedom

And so I’m off.

I’m traveling with my buddy, John-Michael Bloomquist. Besides being a super chill bro, John-Michael is also a poet. And he’s good.

Sweet.

So Pumped.

On our way to El Paso, Texas.

So John and I passed through the beautiful Sonoran Desert, which, if you don’t know, is probably one of the most unique, colorful, and beautiful ladscapes in the world. It’s magical.

Here’s a little hint to gnaw on (all photos by us):

However, as soon as we (literally) crossed the border into New Mexico, the desert became more arrid, and dry. Like some sort of plains/desert hybrid with less color. It was also cloudy, not bountiful with sun.

Compare/Contrast:

I don’t know, maybe I’m biased.

We bought fireworks in New Mexico.

Then we arrived in El Paso, too hungry to take a picture of anything.

Anyway, so tomorrow John and I are chillin with my family here in El Paso. Got to rest up.  Expect to see pictures of old people pointing to specific landmarks surrounded by varying shades of brown.