Daily Prompt – 1940

What’s the oldest things you’re wearing today?

I think it’s my Wawa hoodie, which really isn’t that old. Excellent hoodie, soft, warm, reminds me of the place I lost. The place I miss. My home away from home. I know you’re gonna think I’m going to say something sweet or about a person, but fuck no. I miss Wawa.

People who don’t know Wawa think I have some weird obsession with gas station food, but iykyk. And if you don’t, do yourself a favor and get educated.

I knew I’d give up Wawa moving out west, I just didn’t realize how many other good things. Cheesesteaks, rolls, decent hoagies, good shitty Chinese food, pizza, creamed chipped beef, the ability to make meatballs and gravy easily, and on and on. Iiiii prolly shoulda started this paragraph with people, but let’s get real: you can’t eat people. Well I can’t, maybe you can. Cannibal cheesesteaks could be an improvement….It’s like literally the best pizza, cheesesteaks and hoagies I can get are at two chains that anybody back east would roll their eyes at. Hell, I’ve even had cheesesteaks and hoagies shipped 2 day air across the country thanks to Goldbelly – and they are far superior to a fresh anything here.

And, they call them Philly’s. Which I guess removes any false advertising claim I could have because this soggy roll with flavorless meat, not enough cheese smothered in practically raw peppers and onions? That’s an abomination unto the lord and the entire state of Pennsylvania, but sure. Call it a Philly. It works. Generally gross, wet in places it shouldn’t be, and unless you know where to go, you truly should just avoid it entirely.

So many talk about the great food in Reno, but I disagree – with the exception of the abundance of all you can eat sushi.Most everything here generally falls in the overhyped as fuck or the “clearly you’ve never tasted anything better so you call this good” category. Overpriced and underwhelming seems to be the norm, with exceptions of course. Only a Sith deals in absolutes, yet I say firmly: the cheesesteaks out here are absolute fucking dogshit.

I used to really love living here. It’s almost 4 years now, but I have really come to find this place as fake as a wooden nickel. I do fucking love the casinos and how easily we can see shows at the casinos. I think I have seen over 20 shows in the last year alone. I will accept TOOL, Gavin Rossdale, Ghost or Puscifer FUCKING Puscifer, over cheesesteaks, I’m not that much of a fatass. Well I kinda am. But that’s not the point.

The outdoors are beyond description, I’m all in for Tahoe alone. There’s no other word besides beautiful to describe this place. Fucking breathtaking. That said, beyond casinos, shows, and nature, I’d generally head back to Wawa any day. It does not have Tahoe, but there’s the dirty ass Atlantic that’s the color of old rubber at the shore.

I have to say, the most Jersey thing I ever heard – in line at Smiths – “Fuck Tahoe, gimme the shore anyday” and I felt that. Tahoe has a lot of things, but not Manco & Manco, Kohr’s Bros, Steele’s fudge, and Wawa. It’s fucked up unless you spent your childhood in OCNJ.

The people here (aside from my fuck Tahoe hero) are just so…if you’re not native Nevadan, there are people who won’t talk to you or let you in their special vaginal departure zip code club. They assume you’re from California and hate you for the state you’re from or as if transplant from anywhere else is a dirty word. It’s so weird. Like yes let’s judge someone based on arbitrary lines drawn on a map. Really cool, killer. I don’t need map lines to tell me you’re a fucking asshole. So we both win.

Like wow, omg you were born somewhere and you never left. You really should look down your nose at me for exploring the world and trying to find my place in it. It is so hardcore staying within the same 15 mi radius your whole life and bitching about any change. Cool.

And the people you do find? They are as shallow as the roots of any plant in the desert. Tumbleweed friends that only roll around when they need good advice. There are exceptions to every rule, there are absolute angels out here who have helped me – especially the teachers. But I gotta agree, east coasters are like rude but kind. Nobody wants you to talk to them unnecessarily, but they’ll help you out. Out here, it’s generally just fake, fake, fake, shallow, shallow, shallow.: they’re amazingly kind if you have a value to them, the end.

All that to say: I would kill for a cheesesteak and actual deep conversation.

I digress….this was about hoodies, but let’s keep babbling shall we?

I know, on some level, given the archetypal and metaphorical nature of the desert, I was never to grow deep roots here nor find friends. The shallow roots I made burned up in a flash because I was to come away from everything familiar and dear (like Wawa) so I can find myself. And one thing I have found a lot is: I really fucking miss Wawa (and real people). The other thing I’ve found is I have plenty of time to write, so stop wasting precious time on anything that isn’t the purpose of being in a desert: finding and I suppose, befriending yourself.

Hell, I taught myself how to make dough so I can make decent rolls, and I have friends. Ala the late, great Kurt Cobain: they’re in my head. The literal and food desert I’m in has taught me: I am one adaptable motherfucker.

So I guess I can’t complain, I’m glad I am not comfortable – that means I’m growing. I’m glad I can’t settle in, I know I’m not supposed to be here long term. I’ve known, since I tasted the shit excuse called a cheesesteak out here, I don’t belong here.

And just, not for nothing, God, Hi, how are you? Thanks for popping over to my blog today (if you could like or share it would be a huge help, thanks. Amen.) but God, I really don’t wanna do the 40 year thing here. I can’t be 80 and not able to eat a cheesesteak cause I can’t gum it down right you know? Priorities. I told you a few months ago to get this shit moving in some direction, and not to criticize, but I definitely didn’t mean anything with firing or copping charges. I meant like moving trucks and new scenes and cool new jobs. And a writing career. I was pretty clear here. But I will trust, somehow someway….You know better than me, I can’t see the big picture, but seriously Man, err God: like if you have decided it’s 40 years in the desert for me, can I get the start up cash for a Wawa franchise? If I could open a Wawa out here, I’m telling you. That could be my purpose, I can make it work. A west coast Wawa mogul, I could deal with that far better than the weird fucking shit I’m dealing with it in my favorite hoodie this morning. Compromise?

If nothing else, I wouldn’t be in nearly the weird financial pickle I’m in. I’d have lots of delicious pickles to put on delicious hoagies instead. Win/win

I love you Wawa. Thank you for making so many bad moments taste better. I know it’s never goodbye. I know I’ll see you later. But, oh how I pray, it can be sooner. In the meantime, thank you for at least keeping me cozy this morning.

Thanks (or I’m sorry!) for stopping by!