When you’d arrived at the Sanctuary, near starved and desperate for the safety, Simon had been one of the first people you’d met. Even covered in more than a week’s worth of grime, hair slicked back and clothes riddled with what felt like more holes than fabric, he’d still find cause to make a pass at you.
At first you’d thought it must be a wind up, a cruel joke to make you look stupid in front of the others but then he’d waggled his eyebrows and the grin that slotted between his moustache had been nothing but genuine. Road weary and still grieving the loss of your husband you’d given him a flat “no, thank you,” that had only made him chuckle before he shook away the word like water off a duck’s back.
after high school graduation, team phantom takes a roadtrip in the RV. they go to a dumpty humpty concert three states over; they camp out at yellowstone, zion, the grand canyon, yosemite, and death valley; they to SDCC and pax prime; and they go to kennedy space center, houston, and the california science center. they try and stay in some of america’s “most haunted” places and videotape themselves ghosthunters style trying to debunk them (some of them are real). they get lost more than a few times but they only regretted it once. in the end, they make their way back to amity park and the first place they go is the nasty burger. they’re disgusting and road-weary, but they still go inside and sit at their usual booth.
before they all go off to college, they have a gift for each other - sam made everyone matching photo albums of the trip; tucker edited the videos from their “ghost hunting” adventures, and danny made a mix tape of all of the songs they had joked over or sung their hearts out to (it’s horrible).
Ἑρμᾶς τᾶιδ᾽ ἕστακα παρ᾽ ὄρχατον ἠνεμόεντα
ἐν τριόδοις πολιᾶς ἐγγύθεν ἀιόνος,
ἀνράσι κεκμηῶσιν ἔχων ἄμπαυσιν ὁδοῖο·
ψυχρὸν δ᾽ ἀχραὲς κράνα ὑποπροχέει.
I, Hermes, stand here, beside the wind-stirred lane of trees
in the crossroads close to the gray shore,
with rest for those weary from the road;
and the spring wells up cold and pure.
On this day in music history: March 17, 1979 - “Desolation Angels”, the fifth studio album by Bad Company is released. Produced by Bad Company, it is recorded at Ridge Farm Studios in Surrey, UK from August - September 1978. The fifth full length release from the hard rocking British band takes its title from the Jack Kerouac novel of the same name, and sees them at the peak of their commercial powers. It spins off two singles including “Gone, Gone, Gone” (#44 Pop) and their last major hit “Rock ‘N’ Roll Fantasy” (#13 Pop). The band tour extensively in support of the album, playing huge stadiums around the world. By the time the follow up “Rough Diamonds” is released three years later, the once tight bands’ music and relationships go into a decline. Weary of the road and the pressures that go along with it, including the waning interest of manager Peter Grant (following Led Zeppelin drummer John Bonham’s death), results in Bad Company also disbanding shortly afterward. Originally released on CD in 1988, the album is remastered and reissued in 1994, with limited edition Japanese CD pressings featuring mini-LP packaging issued in 2007 and 2010. “Desolation Angels” peaks at number three on the Billboard Top 200 and is certified 2x Platinum in the US by the RIAA.
Character A lives in a town has been plagued by terrible luck - crops dying, animals being moody, milk going sour, etc. – and everybody is blaming Character B, the witch who lives in the woods outside of the town. Character A is sent out to confront, kill, or drive out Character B.
Character B is a witch who lives in the woods and takes in orphaned children, and helps out lost, weary road travelers. When Character A arrives at their doorstep with a sword and a lot of angry words, Character B tries to settle the matter by inviting Character A in for tea.
Perhaps all our loves are merely hints and symbols; vagabond-language scrawled on gate-posts and paving-stones along the weary road that others have tramped before us; perhaps you and I are types and this sadness which sometimes falls between us springs from disappointment in our search, each straining through and beyond the other, snatching a glimpse now and then of the shadow which turns the corner always a pace or two ahead of us.
If ever there was an apt example of the tension expressed between the blazing pomp of the motel’s neon marker and the humble accommodations it announces, we find it in the star-adorned sign of the 1950s-era roadside. For all the determination to characterize the motor court as insignificant and fleeting, the Christian iconography of its signage ties the place to thousands of years of religious tradition.
Yes, each and every roadside motel is just another Bethlehem inn, complete with a holy star guiding road-weary travellers to safety, comfort, and peace. It’s hard to reconcile at times, but the motor court once posed as the most wholesome of places, a site of refuge from the hard world, where an entire nation might reinvent itself with a good night’s sleep and a baptismal swim.
O little town of Bethlehem, How still we see thee lie. Above thy deep and dreamless sleep, The silent stars go by. Yet in thy dark streets shineth The everlasting Light — The hopes and fears of all the years Are met in thee tonight.
Look for the star. Somewhere along the backroads of the country it still exists, a symbol of a lost time, a worn out set of values, and the broken promise of contentment that never arrives.