Last night, two stray cats skittered around the Walmart parking lot. I named them Brian and Setzer. There are a good number of street cats in Roswell—as many as there were stray dogs up in northern Montana. It was helpful to focus on them, as my stomach was pretty rough. I blame the suspect spinach I bought Thursday afternoon. I fell asleep around midnight and woke up at eleven this morning, feeling groggy but healthy.
I immediately put my stomach back to work at Amigos, which is my kind of restaurant. Absolutely terrible ambiance: foam-stuffed chairs, like you might put out for extra guests at dinner, and plain tables that would be at home in a school cafeteria. The food had to be good, and it was. The highlight was the chile relleno, which was expertly spiced and seasoned. I got more than I could eat for just ten dollars. The chips and salsa were scrumptious as well.
I considered staying longer in Roswell, but I sensed that the Extraterrestrial Museum would be a letdown. Roswell also smells like trash. It’s that specific trash smell that almost smells like a fast food restaurant. I decided to ease on down the road, but not before a couple of commercial close encounters.
Just an hour down the road, Carlsbad was comfortingly familiar. This may be the New Mexican Derry. I spent some time in the library, beginning the painstaking process of figuring out exactly which towns I’ve visited on my trip. Spoiler alert: there’s a lot. I wrote some more lyrics as well. Slowly but surely, these songs will get done.
As I drive south, I’m munching on baby carrots and my endless supply of bananas and listening to the new black midi record. If you like anarcho-jazz post-rock, this is the record for you. If that makes no sense to you, you won’t like it.
Those aren’t stray cats, Jake — they’re furry, four-footed aliens all related to Klaatu!
“Klaatu barada nikto!”
BTW, did you get your free tin-foil hat when you visited Roswell?
So you’re driving around with a bunch of bananas in the back of your car, eh?
I guess we’re all lucky that you and Livi are showing the restraint to not break out into “The Banana Boat Song” at all different times of the day.
“Day-o!
Day-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-o…
Daylight come and me wanna go home…”
Wouldn’t it be cool to find a radio station that did “All Harry Belafonte — ALL the time!” for at least three or four hours?
So much for Roswell. Over rated. But I guess it has to be seen. Glad you are eating something other than spinach and broccoli and carrots and bananas. Chile relleno sounds more balanced and that’s good. You are getting close enough to the Mexican border that I am wondering if you have encountered any traffic stops by the border patrol people looking for illegals in your car. We ran into a few of those. Keep an eye on the weather as you travel east. Oklahoma and Louisiana and points in between had some tornados a day or two ago. Loved your pictures of Roswell Dunkin and McDonald’s. Love, Grandma