Manifest Destiny

June 14, 9:49 a.m.

I feel like it's my birthday. It's Flag Day. It's also the anniversary of Rob's and my second date, where we went to see Dawn of the Dead.

Speaking of which: Although the Clacken Beef, or whatever it was, was one of the best Chinese entrees I've ever eaten (who knew, in Charleston, West Virginia?) and I didn't overindulge in the beer, I feel, let's say, dyspeptic. I am loath to part with this room and its magnificent, private, functional toilet.

I am downing a bunch of water (beer plus air conditioning plus whatever's clacken through my system equals dehydration) and trying to get myself together. I wish I didn't have to check out by 11. And I wish I could have slept later, somehow.

Last night, I was thinking about the Wal-Mart near Bonnaroo. Not that I've seen it--just heard about it, how it becomes this offsite party/campground/meeting place. This bothers me a little. The goody-goody Girl Scout in me cares about people respecting each other; I wonder how the Wal-Mart people feel about being colonized. One could draw parallels, I suppose. Wal-Mart comes into a small town, dwarfs it by its size and power, and alters its character; now substitute "Bonnaroo" for "Wal-Mart" and "Wal-Mart" for "small town"....

Maybe. I dunno. For all my paisley fantasies, there is a part of me that belongs to the Wal-Mart world. It's the same part of me that couldn't make it through On the Road without getting annoyed with the characters being such freeloaders. (I had misgivings about Thoreau as well.)

I awoke thinking about Joni's child of God: Did she give him a ride to the Garden? How much I'd like to be the sort of person who picks up hitchhikers, but I know it's not safe for a woman to do so. It's ever so much easier to be a free-spirited, paisley-tinged God-child if you're a guy, and that hasn't changed since Joni's or Kerouac's or Thoreau's time.

I dreamed about carrying Molly, my cat, through Jequie Park in Takoma Park, and about apartments in the house where I grew up. I often dream of that house, always in a situation where it's about to be sold or torn down: Things are about to undergo a huge change, and the occupants are struggling for peace and happiness. Gazing at Art Nouveau furniture, trying to work the door locks, throwing tea parties, wandering through an overgrown garden.