A mellowing and meandering trip through this American life. Follow the adventures of Jan, Jack, and Patrick as they take you on a whirlwind trip through Washington, DC's seedy underbelly of cut-rate poolhalls, thrift stores, and temp agencies.

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Monday, April 12, 2004

Howdy Y'all,

Jan and Jack just dropped me off in downtown Santa Fe where I will be meeting one Amy Small in a matter of hours. You see, Jan has a job interview in Silver City tomorrow morning at 9am and so him and Jack are driving there as we speak to get a hotel room and whatnot. Now Amy is driving down from Denver to meet us. But, we have to get to Silver City. So, it was decided that we would split up and then reconvene later tonight 285 miles South of Santa Fe at a hotel room of J and J's choosing in the Silver City (which apparently smells, but don't tell Jan that).

Santa Fe has been awesome so far. We drove in two days ago and went immediately to the International Museum of Folk Art. At first it was just dolls from around the world (think "It's a Small World Afterall"), but then we stepped into the Outsider Art exhibition they had going on and things were off the hook. They had paintings by this one Peruvian mental patient who had to secret away all the paper he could find to create these massive canvases which he painted, crayolla'd, and penciled together scenes of his childhood. He created the parchment by attaching the scraps of paper with starchy foods and spit! Also, the art was grand.

Anywho, then we traveled up the mountain to 10,000 waves, which was a hot spring of sorts. Very influenced by the concept of "Japan", but I wouldn't actually call it Japanese. 14 bucks or so for unlimited use of hot bath, cold dip, and sauna. Sweet.

Then last night we stayed with an artist named Louis, who was building a rad house/art studio in the hills outside of Santa Fe. He had just removed the central supporting beam before we arrived and it just sat there diagonally across his living room floor. A large metal beam. Don't worry, there were other supporting beams, but they were "temporary."

Louis kindly offered us glasses of the world's finest single malt scoth (Glenlivet, aged 12 years) and a pleasant dinner of tortillini and olives. We said goodbye to Louis this morning and wished him luck on his endeavors.

. . .

(movie-making is one day away)

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