Higher than a kite from drugs to get me INTO THE CHAIR,
the trip home was surreal, from picking up bad food to go at Fish Sauce
(so sad, they used to be good)
to the drive to the studio through NW Portland,
which Mitchell now calls little Shanghai due to the construction sites
blocking roads every day, because they can’t build a three story building
without needing the whole street to stand in,
AND then there were TWO (what are the odds) big rigs blocking intersections
— one jack-knifed and the other stalled.
Mitchell starting down a street then having to back up and go around
(did I tell you the contractors and truck drivers do not put up cones?)
Me laughing my arse off.
Got my daily sketch in before I fell sleep. Drugs will do that.
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