So I went to Willows for Thanksgiving with my Lomo fisheye planning on taking all sorts of badass, artsy photos, but instead I just got drunk the whole time. So instead you’ll have to settle for some bullshit I took with my iPhone camera which is sort of like a polaroid only not as cool.
And as proof of my profound inebriation, not that you need any, I present my feeble attempt to document the uniquely bucolic and whimsical magic that is the Long Way Home Saloon:
Guess you’ll have to go there to see what’s cracking. Just don’t try to drive home. The police in Willows are increasingly fascist and unforgiving. But I guess it’s just because they’re probably bored out of their damn minds. Anyways, I’ll try to do better next time or whatever, but film processing is getting expensive and I’m not made out of money, which is obvious by the fact that I’m spending my vacations in Willows as opposed to the more balmy climes enjoyed by my colleagues, but hey! If there’s one good thing about writing, its definitely not that it pays well! Or that it’s rewarding in really any other way, other than being the job that takes probably the most minimal amount of effort this side of being the Maytag guy. But at least that guy is Union and probably gets vision, and retirement. Only retirement I got is the baseball cards in my closet, but those ain’t worth shit anymore. So I guess I’ll have to live now and figure the rest out later, which is easy because later doesn’t come until after now. And even when it does, there’s always another later after that. Until there’s not. Then you’re fucked.