The Prodigal Daughter

Fashion show or mystical event? The LaBolds at their finest.

Look at the set here:
LaBOLD

The Farmhouse Nationals do. Let me explain what the Nationals are to me and about 100 other fun loving Jersey kids are. My friends rent an insane amount of land from some clueless old woman in Pattenburg NJ, which is like the bermuda fucking triangle of Jersey. Imagine if you will a track in the back area of a farmhouse, you must walk up a tire rutted dirt road to get to the track. It had rained the day previous and half the day of the event. So make that a mud road and a mud track. It was a perfect October afternoon as the races started and I had been drinking since around 11 30 in the am. I decided to wear some duck boots that I had found in the closet at my parents house, which proved to be an excellent idea; Angela’s pumas were ruined. If I had real forethought I would have picked up a pair of dickies coveralls and worn those.

When we get there the crowd is somewhat sparse because they’re all at the “track” for the first race. I spot a bar b que smoke truck and I am told that 10 kegs of beer had been purchased. I am also told that campground is still available. I can already smell the meat as I am getting myself another cup of beer. Let me tell you all that I’d much rather enjoy being fat and happy from beer and ribs then any other thing on this planet. I also enjoy a bunch of idiots racing cars in the mud. These cars involved shitty ass late American models complete with chicken wire fronts. There were money races in which the winner collects from a $20 per car pot. It was pretty fucking sweet to get covered in mud and watch them spin out around the hard turn. Kyle’s car got a flat after one race and there was another car driving around the track with the right rear wheel piratically falling off the axel. Ray’s car caught on fire, was extinguished and then run over by a monster truck.

During all of this the vehicle of my dreams and perfect for the track arrived. It was a dune buggy driven by a mad man with a graying mohawk and a thickish accent known well in parts of new jersey that come from a combination of limited vocabulary and saying water in a very particular way. The second I saw that I said “I wanna get the fuck in that”. This dude went around the track several times with some of his friends and then popped up out of the thing and says “who want’s a ride?” No takers were biting, after all this man was driving insanely fast around a mud ridden track in a cage on wheels. The thing was about as muddy as you could get it. He made an attempt to wipe the seat to which I replied by “I don’t give a fuck about the seat!”. A helmet was donated for my safety and we were off. He had made a cross bar in the passenger seat for some thing to ground yourself with. I don’t really know how fast we were going but it felt about 70 and the bushes and mud were smeared together during the ride like an impressionist painting. It was bumpy, muddy, and fucking exhilarating. I was known as the chick that rode the dune buggy after that.

The ribs were served around 6 30 PM and we were all very hungry gluttonous little piglets. The ribs were amazing, they were made slowly the whole day in a smoke truck. I was told they made enough ribs to feed 200 people, but with the way we were eating it was more like 20 (hahaha). I stuffed myself silly (which later I semi regretted). Some NJ punk rock bands known as Post No Bills, and the STDs were there. I changed into my Jerry Only costume and rocked out with the rest of the degenerates of this small scene in Jersey. I think at one point I told someone that there are times in my life that make it all worth it and that this was definitely one of them. THANKS to motherfucking Jersey, hicks, greasers, and punk rockers.

I think there’s something in the delaware river, but i shouldn’t blame it should i? It’s all our own faults. Jim came home from china for a week and we had a bonfire in which no one was spared from making out and i contracted a nasty case of poison ivy again.

see all of the debauchery here.

it was good:

the way back…now backwards:

breanne and william (her father)

alanna and jeff. he called me mam’ alot.

the wedding party

me and my new boyfriend…

the best picture of me in pink ever

i am free.

thanks dan, the pictures are coool. way better than the actual party i think. you can veiw the whole set here.

She’s waiting there with some boy I’ve never seen before, who commences to complain for the rest of the evening. She sure knows how to pick em. We go to baggage claim and wait around the glinting metal carousel for about 20 minutes until we notice that my bag has refused to pop out onto the moving track. It occurs to me that my bag is missing. I have to wait behind the asian man in the plum corduroys who has been with me since albuquerque. I haven’t mentioned that i haven’t eaten since i had that leftover italian it is now (12:30 AM). We talk about getting drinks and end up at John and Peter’s in New Hope. Where i have my first yuengling in 8 months. Kyles buys it for me and it finally feels like I am home.

Scott shows in his peacoat. He looks like a sailor and his hair is cut close to his head. I am relieved to see him and we all make off for the Eagle diner. I commenced to eat a cheesesteak and a piece of scrapple that Angela orders. It feels nice to be back on the east making butt jokes and ripping on Angela because it’s normal and that’s how we show our love. I forget about being tired. I forget about him. I am with the people that mean the most to me at that very moment, of course minus a few. It would be great to see jim or eel but what are you gonna do? They’re in china and i surely send my love. Of course I end up wearing the same clothing for 2 days until my bag arrives. In those two days i can’t get no satisfaction and my parents buy a huge box of liquor. I am drinking right now because the afternoon drunk suits me. I still think about calling. I think about what’s going on with Scott and my Pseudo date with Nick, but most of all I think about the man that stole my heart. I still love him with the pieces that are left.

I am packed. I get home from Ian’s at (4:30AM) and eat my left over italian. I don’t call jen like i said i would because i figure she’s sleeping. I check my e-mail. put on Wilco and make sure everything is packed. At (5AM) I call jen and she sounds asleep. Well maybe it was a few minutes before then. i head over. the steering wheel does an ice burn on my fingertips and there i am. shooing her out of the house because my lack of sleep has turned into impatience. Patience was never one of my strong points to begin with. We are at the airport and forget to give jen a hug. I am an asshole. The flight begins fine. I am only able to sleep when the plane is in the air. I guess it’s the dull roar of the engine that lulls me into sitting up sleep. I hear that we can’t land in houston because of fog cover and that we have to go to San Antonio to refeul.

We commence to sit in the pane for 3 hours while we wait for fuel. By this time i have missed my interchange. Wonderful! I also can’t sleep while we aren’t moving and a man who drives buses in Espanola gives me the number for a dentist in Jaurez. He tells me they’ll save my teeth, and thinking of this i think of him. I look at my phone and notice that he has called. I call back to report the irony that I am indeed sitting in a plane in his home town. Guffaw. I miss you. See you when you get back. We finally leave around (1:30PM) We get into Houston and they tell me I can catch a 2:30 if I fly standby. At this point I am praying to get onto this plane. I want to be home and sleeping.

What actually happens is I get on the plane and we never leave. We taxi and they tell us that the fog in Philadelphia and Houston is just too much. I guess the whole country was covered in fog the only day that i desperately want to get home. We are herded off to sit in the terminal and our gate happens to be right next to an airport bar. I get drunk with a middle aged man and a very thin jamaican med student. He pays for it all. She is loud and entertaining. We talk about life and parenting and being different ages. I am loaded when we get back on the plane (7PM). I quickly pass out to arrive in Philadelphia at (12:00AM). By this point my phone is dead. Angela is waiting outside the gate.

Like a greyhound ride. I started Wednesday morning (9 AM) putzing around on the computer. That is not interesting. I went to the mountain with Adam. We ate…italian and had a weird time. Not drunk, just kind of stoned. My edge wearing dull. Looking at the waitresses and waiters (6 PM). I don’t remember other then the sunset. We got up there around 4. I was wearing a down jacket that made me feel like a combination of the michelin man and the staypuff marsh-mellow man. My legs were blocks of ice on top of tense muscle. But the sky was full of colors that only your eye can see. I’m sure Adam took pictures, but the human eye is raped by intense color changes. My ears started to hurt because of the wind. And I thought of places that I have been. the top of the mountain. Frozen in ice and wondered what the natives thought. You have to land to get what it’s about. The mysteries of space and the ocean.

Went back to my apartment and commenced to putz again. Not really wanting to think about leaving or do anything about it. It’s not as if I wasn’t excited. it was just that i was feeling something in my stomach at the bottom. Jen came over. Her skin looked nice like she was taking care of herself again. I am sure that I didn’t look very nice. self abuse is a deal breaker. The phone call came before that. It wasn’t something i expected. I was going to go to bed and decided an all nighter was better. I threw all of my clothing into a plastic bag and then directly into my suit case. It’s not hard to pack when you have so little to bring.

Jen and I watched some television. I’m sure I tried to finish Wendy’s pot. What a nice gift. I also received a picture of us. I like the way that woman thinks. The phone rang again. I felt uncomfortable. It wells up. The drunken voice at the other end. The mysterious number it came from. The familiar guffaw. Oh the gift of cellular. We are tied to the device and it make me want to. break it. Burts is a busy place and I heard wyatt in the backround. He sounded like a lumber jack yelling at fallen years. So we went. I got there at (10 PM). I went straight to the back and didn’t even look around. There was a very sick girl in the bathroom that i fetched water for. on my way back out i heard my name through the smoke. It was the lumberjack. Hello sir and ladies. Oh look he’s sitting across from me at the booth. Excuse me I have to take care of something. After i heard the voice. “are you going to come sit over here at some point”
“i was having a conversation” i reply.

I slid in. not going for physical contact. avoiding it completely. This is dan, this is natalie. Hello…hello. I was sitting under the velvet mariner’s stare. Come over after this beer. It was all such a blurred watercolor. paint bleeding into smoke. I am wincing. It struck me from above. I am never as alone as I think. The loud lumber peanut gallery. We are suddenly squished by the return of jen from her id excursion. Into the uncomfortable position locking me in. And then it’s finally time to go. I stared at the mariner and dave’s glass heroine eyes. Sucking in the air as if it could provide me some comfort or relief. Off we went. Leaving the rest on warm december night. It was like any walk back to 14th street. The same route is always used.

Arrived at (11 PM). He put a movie on that i couldn’t hear. Don’t be a bitch. I love you. Here all I will say is that I am even more confused than ever. I will use jim’s definition of what the best kind of kiss is because he is entirely right: The perfect kiss is: genuine, long, coming after a long absence or admiration, and one that you didn’t expect to have when you got up that morning. I was asked to stay and at (4 AM) after he had fallen into a drunk coma I decided to walk back. It’s not like i know anything that i didn’t before.

That’s not the end. But I’ll spare you the rest so that your eyes can tear away from the screen. More to come. To be Continued…

I went to a ghost town, smeared some mud on my face and took some pictures:


enjoy the whole set here: Ghost Town