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20:9) Chris Abraham 22-AUG-94

Chris Abraham, noting that he might have been misconstrued,
adds that Judy is missing an appropriate "r."

My handle on eWorld is "Shooter."
Yours shall be Scribe to me.

Then the coffee broke the haze of this, a sleepless 24 hours.
ANd the dog by my feet decided to pee
and my television had been moved to the
basement, and my books are dusty, and
my best friend has my powerbook, and my
typewriter needs a new ribbon-- but, being
in North Carolina, I was able to make many
images with my trusty 8008 (ttl and fill-flash)

Stalagtites are very drippy this time of year
with a constant temperature (year 'round) of
52 degrees.
Blue Ridge Mountain Parkway-- having to fight my
equation of Southern Twang = dumb hick as everyone,
even the "sophisticates" speak this way and they
are so sweet and so kind and friendliness drips and
makes me uncomfortable. I couldn't live there, though,
with all the Gomer Piles (my problem and I am wrong)
and the sugary-honest pleasantries (even to a yank--
but I *do* have Virginia Plates).

90 mph all the way (slower on the parkway)

stop at a camp ground, in my mercedes, with a
high-tech tent amongst the gargantuan campers
and motorhomes, and all the weekend badboy
Harley-ists chug-chug-chugging up and round
my car like gadflies.

A tent by the river, gurgling, and making love
because they believe us to be newly weds on
some sort of queer newlywed econo-moon. The
moon was full and we drank from the tap as the
sweet mountain water didn't taste of chlorine
(our hair was soft after showering). The beer
was left open and full for the water was
more intoxicating.

Golf carts buzzing about with BMW stickers on
the hood. Guffah.

AAA discounts abounded.

$1.50 off

Natural wonders, Grandfather Mountain--
commercial sites and we paid and fed peanuts
to potbellied polly-polley killer bears who
looked like some Disney Mockup.

And then there was the mile high bridge (they
think they have mountains (I have been to
Nepal, I have been to Colorado, I have lived in
Hawaii) and I scared my girl from Connecticut
when I shook the suspension bridge with my
230# frame and she slapped my, and my 8008
almost lost its all-important SB-24 flash
(to get rid of those ghoul-making shadows
[damn the nose])

And the drive back. Bitchy, both of us, eating
leftover summer sausage and peanuts for breakfast
cause we couldn't get the super-duper-30-second-
boiled-before-you-knowit stove. Damn.
Back in one piece and not enough time to
sleep. took the long/wrong way home (the
scenic route) up the parkway, tired and the
curves and the concentration making me
hallucinate. I saw things: houses, snake-
like weaving roads. Up to 77, then to 81,
then 66 east all the way home.

All this in friday, saturday, sunday after
dropping off a drop-dead gorgeous girlfriend's
younger sister off at the quaint mint-julip
meets hippy Guilford College.