Hippie Pants: (Quasi-fictional Memories)

I put on my hippie pants today. They make me think of Mazzy Star. Mazzy Star and My Hippie Pants bring me back to where I thought I was going. I thought I was going To New Mexico with Holly and Mark, or backpack in Europe, but somehow that got screwed up. I also thought I was going to work as a fisherman In Alaska, I even bought a motorcycle. I was going to ride it, in my hippie pants, across Canada, And I thought about how cool I would be, pulling up along some pier on my Harley with two-day old whiskers Scratching my face and my dick hard with the thought of a month and a half of ocean… And the smell of dying fish.  The Harley now sits in my yard with a for sale sign, And the only time I smell anything vaguely like the smell of dying fish, is when Holly comes over in a sundress. Mark told me she only bathes About once a month, but he still sleeps with her, which is ok if ya like that sort of thing.  Mazzy comes into the thought, because throughout the dreams I've had to New Mexico, Alaska, and about forty-eight other states and five countries, the song "Into Dust", by Mazzy Star, plays in my head, as if it were the soundtrack to some movie, that wasn't nominated for any awards, but Siskel and Ebert thought it was a shame… A shame that more of the Academy doesn't pick avant-garde films.  When I dream I'm in my Hippie pants and I'm riding my Harley across the North Rockies, of Canada, I hear Mazzy. When I check my pack for food, before leaving Pamplona, I hear Mazzy. When Mark tells a story in Tennessee about Holly's rotten aroma, and I think about how sad they are and just get me to New Mexico, and everything will change, and look at that woman with one leg, and did she hear Holly laugh, because that woman would laugh right back at the smelly bitch and she'd say, "Yeah, one leg you little twit, but a scent as sweet as Tennessee air. So, you and your friends go back to New York, 'cuz New Mexico, And Alaska, and everywhere else is Closed today."  And I turn around in my dream, and I find the sign that says, "New York For You Loser" and Mazzy Star Sings in a solemn whisper, "...into dust." That is where the dream and the song end, and I lower the price on the Harley and I  store my hippie pants in the bottom drawer.


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