I read this the other day in a book I've been poking around in called Astrology: A Cosmic Science. Despite all my strange beliefs I've been going on about in this site, I'm not a big follower of astrology. I find it interesting, curious, and wonder what it is those devout astrologers are looking at when they profess the things they profess, but I wouldn't put my stock in it. Never-the-less, I do find it interesting to poke through.
Its filled with interesting concepts, such as saying "where the kidney's are the purifier of the body, relationships are the purifier of the consciousness" explaining how "no man can be an island". Toward the back of the book there was an allegory that I really liked and I figured I'll copy it down here for your consideration.
An Allegory
"I leaned from the low-hung crescent moon and grasping the west pointing horn of it, looked down. Against the other horn reclined, motionless, a Shining One and looked at me, but I was unafraid. Below me the hills and valleys were thick with humans, and the moon swung low that I might see what they did.
"Who are they?" I asked the Shining One. For I was unafraid. And the Shining One made answer: "They are the Sons of God and the Daughters of God."
I looked again, and saw that they beat and trampled each other. Sometimes they seemed not to know that the fellow-creature they pushed from their path fell under their feet. But sometimes they looked as he fell and kicked him brutally.
And I said to the Shining One: "Are they ALL the Sons and Daughters of God?"
And the Shining One said: "ALL."
As I leaned and watched them, it grew clear to me that each was frantically seeking something, and that it was because they sought what they sought with such singleness of purpose that they were so inhuman to all who hindered them.
And I said to the Shining One: "What do the seek?"
And the Shining One made answer: "Happiness."
"Are they all seeking Happiness?"
"All."
"Have any of them found it?"
"None of those have found it?"
"Do they ever think they have found it?"
"Sometimes they think they have found it?"
My eyes filled, for at that moment I caught a glimpse of a woman with a babe at her breast, and I saw the babe torn from her and the woman cast into a deep pit by a man with his eyes fixed on a shining lump that he believed to be (or perchance to contain, I know not) Happiness.
And I turned to the Shining One, my eyes blinded.
"Will they ever find it?"
And He said: "They will find it."
"All of them?"
"All of them."
"Those who are trampled?"
"Those who are trampled."
"And those who trample?"
"And those who trample."
I looked again, a long time, at what they were doing on the hills and in the valleys, and again my eyes went blind with tears, and I sobbed out to the Shining One:
"Is it God's will, or the work of the Devil, that men seek Happiness?"
"It is God's will."
"And it looks so like the work of the Devil."
The Shining One smiled inscrutably.
"It does look like the work of the Devil."
When I had looked a little longer, I cried out, protesting: "Why has he put them down there to seek Happiness and to cause each other such immeasurable misery?"
Again the Shinging One smiled inscrutably: "They are learning."
"What are they learning?"
"They are learning Life. And they are learning Love."
I said nothing. One man in the herd below held me breathless, fascinated. He walked proudly, and others ran and laid the bound, struggling bodies of living men before him that he might tread upon them and never touch foot to earth. But suddenly a whirlwind seized him and tore his purple from him and set him down, naked among strangers. And they fell upon him and maltreated him sorely.
I clapped my hands.
"Good! Good!" I cried, exultantly. "He got what he deserved."
Then I looked up suddenly, and saw again the inscrutable smile of the Shining One.
And the Shining One spoke quietly. "They all get what they deserve."
"And no worse?"
"And no worse."
"And no better?"
"How can there be any better? They each deserve whatever shall teach them the true way to Happiness."
I was silenced.
And still the people went on seeking, and trampling each other in their eagerness to find. And I perceived what I had not fully grasped before, that the whirlwind caught them up from time to time and set them down elsewhere to continue the Search.
And I said to the Shining One: "Does the whirlwind always set them down again on these hills and in these valleys?"
And the Shining One made answer: "Not always on these hills or in these valleys."
"Where then?"
"Look above you."
And I looked up. Above me stretched the Milky Way and gleamed the stars.
And I breathed "Oh" and fell silent, awed by what was given to me to comprehend.
Below me they still trampled each other.
And I asked the Shining One.
"But no matter where the Whilrwindsets them down, they go on seeking Happiness?"
"They go on seeking Happiness."
"And the Whilrwind makes no mistakes?"
"The Whilrwind makes no mistakes."
"It puts them sooner or later, where they will get what they deserve?"
"It puts them sooner or later where they will get what they deserve."
Then the load crushing my heart lightened, and I found I could look at the brutal cruelties that went on below me with pity for the cruel. And the longer I looked the stronger the compassion grew.
And I said to the Shining One:
"They act like men goaded."
"They are goaded."
"What goads them?"
"The name of the goad is Desire."
Then, when I had looked a little longer, I cried out passionately: "Desire is an evil thing."
But the face of the Shining One grew stern and his voice rang out, dismaying me.
"Desire is not an evil thing."
I trembled and thought withdrew herself into the innermost chamber fo my heart. Till at last I said: "It is Desire that nerves men on to learn the lessons God has set."
"It is Desire the nerves them."
"The lessons of Life and Love?"
"The lessons of Life and Love!"
Then I could no longer see that they were cruel. I could only see that they were learning. I watched them with deep love and compassion, as one by one the whirlwind carried them out of sight.
- Anonymous - "
The book I found this in is Astrology: A Cosmic Science; pg. 278-80, by Isabel M. Hickey
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Beginning to Process That Which is 2009
I’m sitting back home, once more, in Massachusetts. This has certainly been a year of many returns. Returns home here, returns home to NYC, returns home to Denver. All of the above, as well as many sojourns forward to visit old and long neglected friends. It’s been a weird and intense year in a host of different ways, and now I’m finding myself needing a little processing time.
So, as I mentioned above, I find myself back in Massachusetts running my mind through all that’s happened in the last place I’d have foreseen being back in January when I decided to leave. Being here in Stacey’s home is, in itself, a comfort and sanctuary for me now. The rediscovery of her friendship reflects a great many of the other old and new friends I’ve recovered this year, which, truly, has ended up being the heart of this Adventure of ‘09. The spirits of each of them hover about me tonight as I’ve finally sat down to process it all in this house.
The house itself is a home; cozy, snug, and filled with the life of hanging plants, Lucy, and Luca; the dog and cat. Outside there’s a good dose of thick wet snow and a dripping storm complete with occasional lightening, just as I had growing up. Clearly I’m feeling nostalgic as I plop all this down and I’ll try to pull my head out of it a bit to not get mired in sentimental sappiness, which I often succumb to.
I’m looking out over next year as it meanders up the front walk to me. It looks a bit intense, as I get the feeling that this year was yet another practice run; a testing out of the gear and methods in a sense. I’ve been jarred into having to recognize that I’m one of those people that has shut out their childhood, and my past in general, and it took the hulking mass of this year to recognize it and begin to reclaim it.
I watched a preview for a movie tonight about an Indian guy born in New York who shuns his Indian heritage, feeling like he has no part to it, and begins Americanizing himself in the name of claiming modernity. I never found myself able to click with these sorts of plot lines since it seemed like it was all about shallow characters trying to out run their pasts. Seeing that preview tonight, though, coupled with my feeling of nostalgia as I revisit the events of this year, I realized I have quite a bit in common with these guys.
Granted, I never needed to change my name to accustom myself to a culture, I’ve always enjoyed being an American (despite the massive amounts of negativity that comes with it) and, as I’m often reminded, have all the benefits-by-birth that come with it. I’m white, male, Christian raised, Anglican first, middle, and last name, not fat or ugly, not impaired in any way, physically or financially, and raised in a town acclaimed for its public education. The irony of all this is that this was what I had to come to terms with and accept finally this year. All this in light now at the end of this year, I've come to review my experiences with good fortune and how to wield it.
I’ve written at length my experience with money this year. It’s been a fascinating study on the world and its workings, and continues to be. Money continued to dependably show up at the times I would have feelings that it would as I drifted along catching rides and meeting up with these friends. It was consistent from July until October as I rode “the zero mark” up and down from Denver to Port Townsend, to San Francisco, to Massachusetts, and finally to New York then off to Europe. My accessible money would hit zero in my pocket then a job would show up, or someone would hand me $40 or $100. Others simply didn’t allow me to pay for anything as I tried to offer buying them lunch for the ride.
This to me was a phenomenon, but one I’d experienced before and through out life, so when I got on the plane to Iceland and then London in November with £6.36 and $124.00for two and a half weeks, where the American dollar is worth two thirds its value here in the States, I didn’t think much of it. I was convinced something would work out, somehow money would continue to show up for me as it had and all would continue to be well. This was, in many regards, a spiritual belief, and still continues to be.
My first day abroad I spent in Reykjavik, Iceland as a day long layover I provided for myself with some finagly ticket buying. Within 24 hours of being there my $124.00 was spent, though $104 of it was blown on credit card as I tucked the American cash away for my landing. Being that this was a spiritual belief I was very aware to read the signs I was being given and see that the bulk of those funds was for a private cab driver I had to pay to get me to the airport after narrowly missing the last bus by fifteen minutes. I took this to be telling me bluntly that I was going to be taken for everything I had, savings and all, and that I needed to start shifting this view on leaning on fate's ATM.
As I said before, my “zeros” were always from my accessible cash. I had locked up other money in gold and silver, both physical gold coins and silver bars as well as shares. When I did this back in March, and again in August, I had a feeling those reserves wouldn’t last the year and back then had thought sometime in the last three months I’d likely be selling them. I figured that this must be that time and was able to relax. I was taking my cues, right or wrong, from these feelings that it was time for the reserves to go and from my major lesson in October to not stress any situation, relax and work with it, and everything will come out fine.
I saw my friend Jane in London for a few days, then met my grandmother’s cousin, Morag, in Wells, on my way to spending a few days in Cornwall where I met a really amazing guy named Rob who put me up for two nights. After that I ventured over to Paris where I had coffee with Ingrid’s sister, Erica, who has now become a French citizen. I spent the night at a Couch Surfer’s place, Elsa, who took me out to the pubs to watch France controversially beat Ireland in qualifying for the World Cup against Algeria. The next day I took a commuter rail out of the city and spent the next two days hitching to Soissons and Lille as a foreigner who didn’t speak the language.
From Lille I took a train to Amsterdam and spent a few nights hanging out with Brandon, Loreli’s boyfriend, who was out there from Denver as her birthday present to him. Then I raced back to Paris and London to catch my flight through Iceland back to NYC. On the way out of Iceland I watched a four hour sunset as the plane chased it down. When I landed in NYC the day before Thanksgiving I had only my $104 in cash that I’d tucked away and a credit card debt exceeding a thousand dollars. By that Saturday night I had 75 cents.
No, this isn’t a random rant to explain where my money ran away to, or to complain about it. As I said before, I took that initial cab ride as a direct sign that Europe would suck me dry and I should start working on figuring out why this would happen after such reliability from the Universe before. What I concluded has to do with the original statement that I started this rant about. I am not poor, I am not disadvantaged (as I am often reminded)… at least in America and therefore came to believe that I should not be relying on these so called Fates to cash me out when I'm low. It was a lesson to learn, I learned it, and now its on to the next step.
It beckoned me back to one of the old favorites in conversation that Todd and I have often batted about of the suburban kid and the good fortune that comes with it. If you’ve been reading along these blogs at all, whether just mine, just his, or both together, you’ll know that particularly in recent months we both have been intrigued by the Biblical phrase “It’s easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle then for a rich man to get into heaven.” The essence of which I take to mean that a rich man is inherently doomed spiritually because to be rich is to have an excess of wealth and to have an excess of wealth while others still wallow in third world gutters is not in the spirit of Love. The most basic principle of Communism if you want to be politically obnoxious about it, but in essence a stark truth.
Todd has spent much of his retreat months vehemently attacking those who aren’t completely dedicating themselves to truth and self awareness as charlatan zombies suffering from hypocritical self delusion of purpose. I tend to be a little easier on those not willing to sell their mansions outright, or those still looking for a peace they haven’t fully attained yet, as I struggle with the notion that I too still hang on to many an unnecessary luxury item that could go to better use. I believe in massive progress being eventually made through baby steps. My frustration, however, tends to manifest when even those baby steps aren’t being taken. Even being paralyzed by fear is in some sense a baby step, in my view, so long as you are steadily trying to work toward overcoming that fear.
To go back to what I was saying before, this year has been quite good for me in the sense of recognizing that if I work toward something the Universe, in my very firm belief, will meet you half way, and help you along in those completely unpredictable ways. The key requisite seems to be not to lean on it and then you’ll do fine. That lesson has been an important one to learn, but I’ve learned it and now its time to move on and build on it. This is what I believe I was to learn in Europe, so I decided to reconstruct my strategy.
The week after I got back to the States the price of precious metals shot through the roof so I sold it all receiving just enough to bring myself back even again, plus a few extra bucks to move around on. Another safety net removed. With that I decided to return to the original idea of the financial end of this trip and see if I can sell some of the photographs I’ve taken along the way in galleries of any sort and if sales work out I can take care of myself as well as spread that money back out to where it came from this year. Who knows if it will work, but there’s nothing like trying it to see.
What I’ve noticed prominently from this year in the resurgence of old friends is the reconciliations that have come about. I went to my 15 year high school reunion about a week and a half ago and rediscovered a long since discarded close friend, Brian. In those tumultuous days of teenage drama I wrote Brian off after having a good five or six years of brotherhood-like friendship with him because I had thought he’d written me off for the more popular clans. I moved on and became best friends with his ex-girlfriend, Allyson, and quickly there after become obsessed with puppy dog love for her. Something that took me a good six years to get over once all was said and done.
As I discovered the other week when we ran into each other again, apparently this had kicked him in the proverbial nuts pretty bad as a back stab, and I learned that in fact I was the dick in that scenario. Fifteen years, and it’s a pretty simple observation, and I never even remotely saw it until two Saturdays ago.
I also had taken a trip out to Boston at the beginning of November to visit a long gone old friend, Josh, who was the original brother of mine from back in the elementary school days. He was one I lost touch with for ironically the same reason I thought Brian had ditched me; I moved on to more popular kids for my brief stint of popularity in 7th and 8th grade. In 9th grade I had no friends at all… literally. Josh was welcoming with open arms and we had a great visit geeking out about our G.I. Joe days in front of his fiancé, Kim.
Seeing these beginnings of possibly rekindled friendships, along with the massive ex-girlfriend tour that I took this year rekindling those relationships, I see two more such visits to make. One I’ve been planning on since I left Denver back in March, and that’s to see Allyson. Originally I just planned to see her because I haven’t seen her since her wedding in ’03, and now she has two kids I’m quite curious to get a look at. Now, however, I’m curious to know what might come out of that visit in light of these reconciliations. To put it in Todd’s beloved AA terms, I’m wondering what amends I may have there as well.
The other is one I really hadn’t expected, and only recently cropped up as something I think I should do. I have long lost touch with a very close friend from college, my friend Dave. He was another I had a brotherly type friendship with for a good four or five years but had a bad unspoken rift that ended all communication. I think its high time I reconcile it one way or the other before I think about pressing on with another adventure.
There actually is one more that I’m going to have to hunt down, and that’s my good friend Katy from Texas. She vanished a few years ago off the face of New Jersey (understandable, really) leaving no forwarding address of any sort and leaving behind her a bit of a mess to untangle with another mutual friend of ours. It’s my impression that that’s why she’s remained in seclusion from us, but I think its time to reconcile that one as well. Time has passed and good friendships always improve after a mess like that anyway, and as I discovered with Brian there could be a whole perspective of it I missed.
Either way, I can’t get over the density of this year which has finally knocked me off my feet into Stacey’s home. I’m now around the corner from my Dad for a few weeks while I’m here, and am able to drop in on him as I did today which has long been needed in our relationship. I feel this massive year long life reunion with everyone is solidifying a wide base that I am going to need in the coming years. I don’t know why, or for what, if for anything other than just simply having everyone back in my life again, but it gives me the feeling of being apart of a huge, ever widening, family. Kinda something I’ve been seeking for a good long while now.
So, as I mentioned above, I find myself back in Massachusetts running my mind through all that’s happened in the last place I’d have foreseen being back in January when I decided to leave. Being here in Stacey’s home is, in itself, a comfort and sanctuary for me now. The rediscovery of her friendship reflects a great many of the other old and new friends I’ve recovered this year, which, truly, has ended up being the heart of this Adventure of ‘09. The spirits of each of them hover about me tonight as I’ve finally sat down to process it all in this house.
The house itself is a home; cozy, snug, and filled with the life of hanging plants, Lucy, and Luca; the dog and cat. Outside there’s a good dose of thick wet snow and a dripping storm complete with occasional lightening, just as I had growing up. Clearly I’m feeling nostalgic as I plop all this down and I’ll try to pull my head out of it a bit to not get mired in sentimental sappiness, which I often succumb to.
I’m looking out over next year as it meanders up the front walk to me. It looks a bit intense, as I get the feeling that this year was yet another practice run; a testing out of the gear and methods in a sense. I’ve been jarred into having to recognize that I’m one of those people that has shut out their childhood, and my past in general, and it took the hulking mass of this year to recognize it and begin to reclaim it.
I watched a preview for a movie tonight about an Indian guy born in New York who shuns his Indian heritage, feeling like he has no part to it, and begins Americanizing himself in the name of claiming modernity. I never found myself able to click with these sorts of plot lines since it seemed like it was all about shallow characters trying to out run their pasts. Seeing that preview tonight, though, coupled with my feeling of nostalgia as I revisit the events of this year, I realized I have quite a bit in common with these guys.
Granted, I never needed to change my name to accustom myself to a culture, I’ve always enjoyed being an American (despite the massive amounts of negativity that comes with it) and, as I’m often reminded, have all the benefits-by-birth that come with it. I’m white, male, Christian raised, Anglican first, middle, and last name, not fat or ugly, not impaired in any way, physically or financially, and raised in a town acclaimed for its public education. The irony of all this is that this was what I had to come to terms with and accept finally this year. All this in light now at the end of this year, I've come to review my experiences with good fortune and how to wield it.
I’ve written at length my experience with money this year. It’s been a fascinating study on the world and its workings, and continues to be. Money continued to dependably show up at the times I would have feelings that it would as I drifted along catching rides and meeting up with these friends. It was consistent from July until October as I rode “the zero mark” up and down from Denver to Port Townsend, to San Francisco, to Massachusetts, and finally to New York then off to Europe. My accessible money would hit zero in my pocket then a job would show up, or someone would hand me $40 or $100. Others simply didn’t allow me to pay for anything as I tried to offer buying them lunch for the ride.
This to me was a phenomenon, but one I’d experienced before and through out life, so when I got on the plane to Iceland and then London in November with £6.36 and $124.00for two and a half weeks, where the American dollar is worth two thirds its value here in the States, I didn’t think much of it. I was convinced something would work out, somehow money would continue to show up for me as it had and all would continue to be well. This was, in many regards, a spiritual belief, and still continues to be.
My first day abroad I spent in Reykjavik, Iceland as a day long layover I provided for myself with some finagly ticket buying. Within 24 hours of being there my $124.00 was spent, though $104 of it was blown on credit card as I tucked the American cash away for my landing. Being that this was a spiritual belief I was very aware to read the signs I was being given and see that the bulk of those funds was for a private cab driver I had to pay to get me to the airport after narrowly missing the last bus by fifteen minutes. I took this to be telling me bluntly that I was going to be taken for everything I had, savings and all, and that I needed to start shifting this view on leaning on fate's ATM.
As I said before, my “zeros” were always from my accessible cash. I had locked up other money in gold and silver, both physical gold coins and silver bars as well as shares. When I did this back in March, and again in August, I had a feeling those reserves wouldn’t last the year and back then had thought sometime in the last three months I’d likely be selling them. I figured that this must be that time and was able to relax. I was taking my cues, right or wrong, from these feelings that it was time for the reserves to go and from my major lesson in October to not stress any situation, relax and work with it, and everything will come out fine.
I saw my friend Jane in London for a few days, then met my grandmother’s cousin, Morag, in Wells, on my way to spending a few days in Cornwall where I met a really amazing guy named Rob who put me up for two nights. After that I ventured over to Paris where I had coffee with Ingrid’s sister, Erica, who has now become a French citizen. I spent the night at a Couch Surfer’s place, Elsa, who took me out to the pubs to watch France controversially beat Ireland in qualifying for the World Cup against Algeria. The next day I took a commuter rail out of the city and spent the next two days hitching to Soissons and Lille as a foreigner who didn’t speak the language.
From Lille I took a train to Amsterdam and spent a few nights hanging out with Brandon, Loreli’s boyfriend, who was out there from Denver as her birthday present to him. Then I raced back to Paris and London to catch my flight through Iceland back to NYC. On the way out of Iceland I watched a four hour sunset as the plane chased it down. When I landed in NYC the day before Thanksgiving I had only my $104 in cash that I’d tucked away and a credit card debt exceeding a thousand dollars. By that Saturday night I had 75 cents.
No, this isn’t a random rant to explain where my money ran away to, or to complain about it. As I said before, I took that initial cab ride as a direct sign that Europe would suck me dry and I should start working on figuring out why this would happen after such reliability from the Universe before. What I concluded has to do with the original statement that I started this rant about. I am not poor, I am not disadvantaged (as I am often reminded)… at least in America and therefore came to believe that I should not be relying on these so called Fates to cash me out when I'm low. It was a lesson to learn, I learned it, and now its on to the next step.
It beckoned me back to one of the old favorites in conversation that Todd and I have often batted about of the suburban kid and the good fortune that comes with it. If you’ve been reading along these blogs at all, whether just mine, just his, or both together, you’ll know that particularly in recent months we both have been intrigued by the Biblical phrase “It’s easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle then for a rich man to get into heaven.” The essence of which I take to mean that a rich man is inherently doomed spiritually because to be rich is to have an excess of wealth and to have an excess of wealth while others still wallow in third world gutters is not in the spirit of Love. The most basic principle of Communism if you want to be politically obnoxious about it, but in essence a stark truth.
Todd has spent much of his retreat months vehemently attacking those who aren’t completely dedicating themselves to truth and self awareness as charlatan zombies suffering from hypocritical self delusion of purpose. I tend to be a little easier on those not willing to sell their mansions outright, or those still looking for a peace they haven’t fully attained yet, as I struggle with the notion that I too still hang on to many an unnecessary luxury item that could go to better use. I believe in massive progress being eventually made through baby steps. My frustration, however, tends to manifest when even those baby steps aren’t being taken. Even being paralyzed by fear is in some sense a baby step, in my view, so long as you are steadily trying to work toward overcoming that fear.
To go back to what I was saying before, this year has been quite good for me in the sense of recognizing that if I work toward something the Universe, in my very firm belief, will meet you half way, and help you along in those completely unpredictable ways. The key requisite seems to be not to lean on it and then you’ll do fine. That lesson has been an important one to learn, but I’ve learned it and now its time to move on and build on it. This is what I believe I was to learn in Europe, so I decided to reconstruct my strategy.
The week after I got back to the States the price of precious metals shot through the roof so I sold it all receiving just enough to bring myself back even again, plus a few extra bucks to move around on. Another safety net removed. With that I decided to return to the original idea of the financial end of this trip and see if I can sell some of the photographs I’ve taken along the way in galleries of any sort and if sales work out I can take care of myself as well as spread that money back out to where it came from this year. Who knows if it will work, but there’s nothing like trying it to see.
What I’ve noticed prominently from this year in the resurgence of old friends is the reconciliations that have come about. I went to my 15 year high school reunion about a week and a half ago and rediscovered a long since discarded close friend, Brian. In those tumultuous days of teenage drama I wrote Brian off after having a good five or six years of brotherhood-like friendship with him because I had thought he’d written me off for the more popular clans. I moved on and became best friends with his ex-girlfriend, Allyson, and quickly there after become obsessed with puppy dog love for her. Something that took me a good six years to get over once all was said and done.
As I discovered the other week when we ran into each other again, apparently this had kicked him in the proverbial nuts pretty bad as a back stab, and I learned that in fact I was the dick in that scenario. Fifteen years, and it’s a pretty simple observation, and I never even remotely saw it until two Saturdays ago.
I also had taken a trip out to Boston at the beginning of November to visit a long gone old friend, Josh, who was the original brother of mine from back in the elementary school days. He was one I lost touch with for ironically the same reason I thought Brian had ditched me; I moved on to more popular kids for my brief stint of popularity in 7th and 8th grade. In 9th grade I had no friends at all… literally. Josh was welcoming with open arms and we had a great visit geeking out about our G.I. Joe days in front of his fiancé, Kim.
Seeing these beginnings of possibly rekindled friendships, along with the massive ex-girlfriend tour that I took this year rekindling those relationships, I see two more such visits to make. One I’ve been planning on since I left Denver back in March, and that’s to see Allyson. Originally I just planned to see her because I haven’t seen her since her wedding in ’03, and now she has two kids I’m quite curious to get a look at. Now, however, I’m curious to know what might come out of that visit in light of these reconciliations. To put it in Todd’s beloved AA terms, I’m wondering what amends I may have there as well.
The other is one I really hadn’t expected, and only recently cropped up as something I think I should do. I have long lost touch with a very close friend from college, my friend Dave. He was another I had a brotherly type friendship with for a good four or five years but had a bad unspoken rift that ended all communication. I think its high time I reconcile it one way or the other before I think about pressing on with another adventure.
There actually is one more that I’m going to have to hunt down, and that’s my good friend Katy from Texas. She vanished a few years ago off the face of New Jersey (understandable, really) leaving no forwarding address of any sort and leaving behind her a bit of a mess to untangle with another mutual friend of ours. It’s my impression that that’s why she’s remained in seclusion from us, but I think its time to reconcile that one as well. Time has passed and good friendships always improve after a mess like that anyway, and as I discovered with Brian there could be a whole perspective of it I missed.
Either way, I can’t get over the density of this year which has finally knocked me off my feet into Stacey’s home. I’m now around the corner from my Dad for a few weeks while I’m here, and am able to drop in on him as I did today which has long been needed in our relationship. I feel this massive year long life reunion with everyone is solidifying a wide base that I am going to need in the coming years. I don’t know why, or for what, if for anything other than just simply having everyone back in my life again, but it gives me the feeling of being apart of a huge, ever widening, family. Kinda something I’ve been seeking for a good long while now.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Notes from My Little Black Book
Below are a series of little rants that I revisited recently and really enjoyed seeing them all now in sequence. I figured I'd share them here. I've left them unedited and uncensored, so forgive the poor sentence structure, I think I was drunk for quite a few of these.
Oct. 29, 2006
Seattle, WA
I spent today doing nothing, absolutely nothing. And though I needed it badly it doesn't at all feel good. I've been reading a lot of my old writings. Rants, poems, short stories, and they all say I'm lonely. They all say I have been since Hawaii. How is this? Are most people this way? I can see all these patterns in me, ways of being and circling thoughts. I keep striving for someone and its likely its that thats keeping me. Maybe that's what made the walk great. I had everythign but a friend with me, but I haven't had that so it seemed perfect. It goes all the way back too. Friends were always my family and losing that one ever present best friend was the loss of my family and now I can't function. I'm deteriorating quicker and quicker these days and I keep thinking writing or projects or something need to get me going. But I don't and won't and it makes the most sense to me now that its that missing friend, not a lover, just a friend. Whatever this is with Rachel too is depressing some. This flirtation/just friends thing. I don't know that I can do it, it sort of smacks hard of the Allyson scenario but more aceptable. She's scared of this friendship I think.
Nov. 24, 2006
Seattle, WA
Liberalized in as much bullshit as I can be there is a requisite that allows a certain allotment before it becomes stritly extremist PC. Why am I angry with my surroundings? They embody everything I believe I stand for. And I still think I do. Catch phrases, groups, gangs, organizations of the such stand to tell the world what about what they don't already know. And what we know is what they say, and what we could care about is why they repeat and chant into our heads like new age idolotrists chanting new religion. Who believes in religion? New Age or otherwise or slogans all the same.
Jan. 13, 2007
Wilbraham, MA
Nana is dead and the ties to childhood finally whither completely away. It does not feel like a stage into manhood or adultness, it more feels like the ideas I've known and looked to for family are dead as well and its time to form a new concept of the idea. With these ties all gone I must reinvent what family is to me so that I can find its beginnings and create it a new. Seeing how different other families interact among their own reminds me of this.
I look over my genealogy research and had always wondered how it came to be that someone was the head of the family, the father or mother of it all centuries ago. I knew each generation had its own head, ours was Nana, but she was not the "mother of it all". I'm seeing now, with all the divorces, the lack of family cohesion, that many of my generation will have lost the large families in closeness and potentially could become mothers and fathers of new segments of a family. I'm realizing if I have a family that will be my role in history. Family history at least. Maybe not, since Wendie and I are so close, so then I think it might fall to my mom. That seems wrong though.
The idea that I'm not apart of my family after today is oddly familiar and strange. Like my comfortability with exploring new places. The ground itself is unknown, but the feeling I have going into it is my most comfortable. I am alone and I've learned to love that and with that as my seed I can relearn how to have a family again.
Jan. 13, 2007
Wilbraham, MA
The Grocery Store story is my favorite of Nans because it tells most of the principles I inheritted from her. Her legacy was Loving and Family and in those are Trust, Faith, and Community. MJ told me of a new aspect to the story I didn't know so I'll retell it to myself here for a new meaning in it.
MJ said the day before this story she had been aught with a Tootsie Roll in her pocket by Nan. Nana gave her hell for it wondering where she had gotten the money for it. Papa had been out of work and money was extremely tight, so for little Mary Jane to have a nickel for a Tootsie Roll was suspicious.
It came out that she'd taken it from Nana's pockets without asking. MJ had justified it to herself because Billie used to clean out the car and was told any money he found in there was his, so MJ leaned out the coat pockets. Now MJ described Nan going off on her, out of character, as a sign of how tight money most have been. I'm sure that's true, but I also see it as how imparitive it was, especially during that time of hardship, for family to trust one another. So begins the story of the groery store.
They were living on Edgewood Ave. in Longmeadow and the house was becoming bare. There was no money to feed the family but there was no food to feed them either so Nana resolved against her values of Trust for her Family and set off to the grocery store with an empty checkbook. She wrestled with the idea of writing a knowingly bad check to feed her children and in the end couldn't bring herself to do it. She returned home wondering how else she could get food on her table when she opened her door and saw, like water turned to wine, it was already there.
Her neighbor had emptied out the food in her kitchen that would spoil while they went away on a trip and had delivered grocery bag upon grocery bag of food for Nana and Papa to enjoy knowing that times were tough then.
As I've found going through my life keeping unwavering to all your values as Nana did that day, and trhough out her life, everything comes to you as its needed. I've realized looking bak over my own life that I think on that very story at least a few times every year and I have always found it as my compass when my values were put to a test and I believe I've succeeded in those tests having had Nana as my guide.
Jan. 14, 2007
Springfield, MA
I'm in a place I've been in over a thousand times before and nothing's the same. Nothing has changed except the passing of years in my absence. Its hard to behold. The memories of my stay here have been washed away with Earth's rotations. My ghost does stay, but on a shelf, like a well read story loved quickly, followed quickly by a different but equally loved well read story. I am the past here and I can't see where I'm a future. My present is a muddled confusion of wishing the past and wanting a future. And this point I see as an historical point of power. Transition is when the sense of self is weakest and the power to change completely is at its height. A comfortable mind in a transitional period is the most powerful of things. I lack resolve and this is where it seems previous generations, save for the most recent, held their strength.
Jan. 23, 2007
New York City, NY
Today was an interesting bit of insight. I went to see mom's palm reader who, back in '93, predicted her meeting and marrying Musty and the quality of marriage it would be to an extent. Not bad for a '97 meeting and '99 wedding. Wendie saw him a week and a half ago saying its likely she wouldn't have kids and would find a man to love but not until late in life.
Anyway, so I went to see him today with all this transition going on in my life and we talked for two hours then went out to lunch for a bit. The things that shocked me but resonated were when he said I was trying to be someone I'm not with all my adventures. That that was a part of me but not a main part and that stability and security and routine were what was natural to me.
It rang deep in me, but what threw me was his insistane that I'd be happy as an accountant or insurance guy or something. That I hate that idea now beause I'm rebelling against that notion of myself. I don't see that, or more importantly, feel it. He did say it was high time I got off my ass and made up my mind career wise, and I agree my happiest career would not involve travel but more likely community. Something to keep present in my up and coming job hunt.
The other thing was he said in my mid to late thirites, 37 he guessed, I'll get involved with someone I know now, and have peripherally for a long time, and hate. And she and her friends hate me beause of our subconscious recognition of our similarities. He said likely we'd have kids and family, and though its rocky will last a long time.
I have no idea who that could be. Anyway, Margo's meeting me soon so I'll write more tomorrow.
March 21, 2007
Seattle, WA
So according to astro people the last 19 years are over. A new age and rise in change will be oming. Wend and I thought for us it was in reference to the divorce and family issues. I'm now thinking maybe I'll go back to the more reclusive self I was at 11 and earlier. The tranquil years of inwardness, its where I feel myself drifting.
Laurence backed that feeling up and encouraged it. I suppose I have been hiding that since then, the contentment with reclusion that is. Another Walk is a must, but in a few years. I'd love ot leave right now, but it'd be horribly unhealthy spiritually.
I wonder what all my cells ould remember if provoked. Its been the latest question among Wendie and I, and Rachel and I. What would I do best because I really think I could impress people.
Aug. 23, 2007
Somewhere on a train from Seattle, WA to Washington D.C.
And another trip is on. Looking over these last blurbs its interesting to read the shifts and turns that happened these past 6 months at SPUD. I'm still trying to recognize that its over and yet here I am on the train.
This is a definite first of being a night over inot a train trip away to drastic new change and still feel so very much like its a temporary vacation and will be back to work in a week. Wend feels the same way, like I'd be back in abit. Its very weird, unsettling, but also a little nice, oddly. I'm wondering if I've just driven myself into such a work mode at SPUD that, with all the website stuff, I still feel like I'm working?
Sitting here on the train, staring out the window feels strange, like something to get used to again. This slow recognition I'm thinking might be nice, because I hope it will be a steady unwinding from this.
Aug. 25, 2007
Somewhere on a train from Seattle, WA to Washington D.C.
I feel convinced of my lack of conviction and I'm not sure if that's good or not. Good in the sense of identifying something or not because it doesn't matter if that needs to be clearly seen or not.
I've been arguing in my head with Musty about what this step in my life is doing for me, this travel. Is it simply a palette cleanser from Stu, coffee shops, SPUD, and Seattle, or am I going somewhere with this and just haven't identified where? I strongly believe its the latter, but I strongly also agree that ould be wishful thinking to make this trip healthy. There's a lot to this trip because its a period ending not just a sentence or a paragraph, but a long chapter with no notion of what the next will bring. Like a cliff hanger with no subject matter for basis, just the knowledge that quite a bit still needs to happen to have as story.
Vague options hang hungrily in the air and I'm relutant to grab at any of them, but longing and desiring eah possibility there. Life seems to have ripened without maturing yet. This trip seems a lot like a way to keep stagnane off, while I work on decision making. Maybe that's why its good to do. Trying to figure out how or what to decide while growing stale sounds like a brilliant way to fuck everything up and lose myself.
Its interesting that that's the battle everyone is fighting as all these things ome now. Me, Wendie, Jane are all trying our damnedest to hold on to our sense of self. And I think we all feel time is our challenger.
Aug. 25, 2007
Somewhere on a train from Seattle, WA to Washington D.C.
Here's a good question. Where to live after this? I'm obviously not going to answer this now, but even that general idea of some plae new again or return yet again to some place known. Neither sound very good to me.
New but familiar feels better, but logically sounds like the worst of all. Leaving the country as a permanent or even just indefinite time I don't like either. I like being an American, minus all the connotations that brings with it. Its the only thing left I can solidly say I am in that way. I'm not a New Englander or a New Yorker as much anymore, and I@m definitely not from Denver or Seattle. I don't even have a place I can say my family is home to. I never really realized how extensively homeless I am.
I've said this before on the Walk but after this trip I really should dig in where ever I land next and arve out a new home, like a pioneer.
It feels somewhat like finding a wife for a family. I suppose it exactly like that. Someplace I'll love until I die, and love entirely until then. I am convinced I'll find both those.
Feb. 23, 2008
Denver, CO
Getting back into Denver, the reality is starting to settle. I'm mostly excited to get all my stuff back in one spot. I'm worried about falling back into my old pattern and dragging on my usual way of skimming. I'm feeling the need to settle and get life really going again.
Jane really got me excited about that and a real idea of a family. I agree with her though that maybe I want that too much right now. I know the key for me is to feel like I have a home. I need to fall in love iwth a plae as muchc as I need to fall in love with someone. Denver may be exactly what Jane was saying she was to me; the right enough person for me when I want it.
I lack resolve and I need to find it now. A business plan is porbably the most important thing because it gives me something to keep me from feeling aimless and it keeps me in Denver wiht a purpose and an attachment. Friends will strengthen around me as I prove to be a fixture. Then I'll find a family one I feel like I have a home.
My "big ideas" need to now be oriented around the idea of being in Denver. I like the idea of find a lake house for family summers. Classes are something that will help establish me as well and the tax course in September is perfect timing for that.
I'm excited to see Jane then as well, but I'm wary of letting the idea of her and I tempt me away because we won't be ready for each other then either.
Feb. 23, 2008
Denver, CO
Can I avoid dating? I know I'll hit a point where I'll want to date again and that it will only be out of loneliness and I'll be back in a pattern of getting excited about a girl and fous only on what's right about her until I'm used to her and I then focus on what's incompatible between us and break it off, then find another.
Jane sniffed all this out quickly and it possibly is what happened with her. She knew I was too exited for myself in the beginning and we both knew it wasn't right at the end. I still think that it could really work something in the futrue but a few years up. Until then I can hold a little comfort in knowing someone good for me is in fact out there and known.
Undated
Denver, CO
To avoid dating and drinking in the sense of it being hand in hand I need an alternative sense of excitement and sociability that I can do on a whim. Kareoke is good so long as I can always find someone or become known enough to drop into places.
Undated
Denver, CO
This is hard to remember that I am on the road to somewhere. Right now I feel like I'm back in the exact same place I've always been in. But I am heading somewhere and I need to figure out how to make that feel more concrete. I need to establish steps to take that don't need money or location specifics. Possibly set a size for the location as a base for planning.
March 18, 2008
Denver, CO
Since that last email exchange with Jane needing to be on her own I've felt a resurge of loneliness. I suppose I really was hanging on to the idea of us getting bak together, and still am, but I did know we weren't going to be anytime soon. Cutting off communication, though, really drives that point home that everything I want in life won't be attained anytime soon.
I think its more than just her and I, but an emphasis of how behind I've gotten on myself. I've been thinking a lot about my old film days wondering if I was right to drop out of it. I still know I was, but its hard to remember that at 23 I had a good career and was on my way and now at 31 I'm still starting over.
I should be working on a business plan these days, but I think above all I need to feel more sociable to feel like I live here now, and not that my boxes are all here. I think that's improtant so that I don't frustrate myself and decide somewhere else is better again and have to start all over. Then I can make a plan without feeling like I'm holing away, because right now I feel a frenzy of wanting to move elsewhere to Seattle of all places, to New York again.
March 26, 2008
Denver, CO
I am here again, and that location is irrelevant. Shades, Netherworld, Barricudas, Bonzai, the bars of the world. I'm here, enjoying it on my own and its strictly the hope of nostaligic resurgence. I like my regularity, but loath the routine of it. Why do I fight my natural ways?
Is it as Laurence says, that I resist myself? I seek repetition naturally and loath it when I get it. What cures that other than the walk? Would a walking lifestyle cure it? Why do I feel as if that's completely out of the question? As if its been assessed, considered, and dismissed.
How many parts of me am I regularly dismissing or ignoring? How much of me will have surfaced by 70? Will I have kids then or will I be handing these notes to Izzy and Aenea? Is that upsetting? Somewhat.
Loreli told me I don't understand infancy. I know that to be true all too well. I get the theory, but that theory, I believe, is what rules out a walking lifestyle. How much will Loreli appreciate having a daughter, of all options, when Izzy is 24 and out on her own and Loreli is 47 and still young enough to run around? Will she regret not being free in her 20's and 30's, or revel in her late 40's having all by then while I hopefully am in pre-teen hell.
This place is a pirate ship.
I should have kids by now. I don't and see none coming soon. Laurence holds me steadfast, but if I hit 40 with nothing I hold little to scorn but myself. I am baby crazy. Fucking 30's.
I say that but just as easily i could say fuckin' 5 year olds. It's pretty clear I just feel like I lack family.
Why is that? I do love Mom, Dad, and Wend. That's a political statement right there, isn't it, to myself. I was left out, I knew it at 5, I wanted family sine then. That seems wrong but not far off.
April 5, 2008
Denver, CO
What kind of jerk am I up to now? I'm looking to make friends yet I'm turning down obvious invites out for a strange variety of trite reasons. I can tell I'm resisting making new friends, as well as closing the gap in becoming closer with old friends. How do I catch myself quicker to stop this?
I am a hermit, and I am because I'm pining after long dead days in New York and mass in the deep recesses of my mind. I'm looking for new days like those without letting them manifest through the little paths they do. I'm controlling it.
How do I not? How do I make sure I go out when its my head saying no. Is this that seratonin thing? My reasoning tonight was money and rising early for something I can easily skip. Drinking also makes a case to me when I feel withdrawn. Nikki, tonight, was clearly looking to go eat and I could only think of getting home despite my ravenous hunger.
I need to route this isolation in me otherwise I never will be able to date healthily. Am I taking on too much to try to do this to myself on my own? Is that a symptom of itself? I'll have to draw in some outside thought on this.
Undated
Denver, CO
So celibacy? This has been an interesting experiment in counter intuition under the name of mental health reparations. I have recently convneced myself well enough that I should kiss Elizabeth. This process and resolution was so long and tricky that it seems to me that it has become more of a defence rather than a recovery, though I still realize the recovery is well needed.
I think removing myself from the equation may have been where I went wrong. The solution of things in general seems often to be finding and managing the balane of the extreme and the lack. Hence why most see life as a bitch. I do like a good teetering and tottering, however, which to me is the spice of life.
So, in lieu of this, how do I broach the challenge of putting more meaning back into sex rather than the hedonism I revel in so much today?
Aug. 26, 2008
Denver, CO
Following my feelings and intuition I believe is what I really need to do to move forward. I think the conflict and frustration I'm feeling is that I've stopped doing that and everyone has been encouraging me to stop. I need to start taking it very seriously and stop half assedly doing it as a way to conveniontly excuse my dreaming.
Faith is what I need to regrasp and I believe that's what Todd re-entering my life was to inspire but I don't think I'm meant to travel long with him. I think what i need to do is travel alone, but more intently, and in the same way Todd's doing now, I need to follow the signs provided for me but fearlessly, patiently, and without hesitation. I should leave after jane goes adn publish everything I do and experience.
The focus needs to be not on what I'm to do when I'm finished, but of who I am. I think people are right in seeing me as a waste away. I have incredible potential and I'm wasting it on aloofness and fear of responsibility. I need to own that and open up to truly accepting concequences.
Oct. 15, 2008
Denver, CO
There is nothing here. Not here in this room, but here in the muscle memory of my hand and fingertips. I sit straing at this lined blank page waiting for the expressive automoton to turn back on and vent reflexively its surroundings. Instead I feel a deadened connection between my brain and the fingertips that manage the pen work.
Thoughts ramble continuously through the forest of synapses and grey matter marsh encompassing them, but when the book opens and the pen is in hand a blockage pops up, somewhere around the neck and shoulders I think. As I walk notions bombard me and the world articulates itself. My mouth will open to expel it and there it becomes stuck again in my tonsils.
This could explain my cough and shallow breathing. My gnawed fingertips are possibly chips away at walls to break out from the inside. Everyone around me seems glazed over in a similar focus on trying to emerge from themselves. Open books with eyes looking anywhere but the pages, conversations with half written expressions between faces betraying the lack of interest or comprehension of what's being said. Laptops seem the only ones successful at suking in all sense of attention, taught by its television cousin as primer.
Feb. 1, 2009
Denver, CO
I am planning to leave Denver once more to go on this crazy intuitive journey with Todd. I want to go but I don't want to leave for once. I don't even know if I want to go, I just want to live out of a pack again.
I am a little concerned about traveling with Todd, or even just wiht anyone particuarly with the purpose for this trip being to reconnect with myself and intuition. That may be difficult if two intuitions clash and one wants to control the other. Something to watch out for. Otherwise it will be nice to have him to rebound thoughts and notions off each other.
What am I really looking for? It seems I'm after reconneting to life which I've been distant from with these day-to-day coffee shop jobs. In film it didn't seem that way as much. I need to regain that freedom of moving my own way again. I've been doing that but only with tension all around me like Vince, Nick, Henri, etc. all cracking down over me.
Todd wants the same, I think, but isn't as clear on the reality, I think. I might be totally off about that. Either way, I travel for a while, or not, but I want to be able to go to the plaes I need to to answer questions, and I don't wwant to stop until those are satisfied enough to stay put again.
Feb. 25, 2009
Denver, CO
These past two months have been quite amazing. I find myself, once again, on the cusp of picking up everything and traveling again. The difference this time, however, is that I'm not feeling lost at all about it. I'm not having the hesitations now about should I or shouldn't I, or what will happen next or to me in the future; am I just wandering? Any of that.
I think the convction comes in facing up tot he fact that I am just wandering now, whether I stay here or move on. I've been aimless since things began falling apart in new York back in '99. Ten years later I'm finally identifying that, not that I haven't stabbed at it, or had inclinations in between, but the bouts of stability attempts and intersest lock downs confused me into thinking I'd solved the mystery feeling. Then I'd quickly realize I hadn't at all.
Groping is what its been. Wendie was one who helped me along on this realization when she said last fall that making a commitment to either staying put or wandering is still a commitment and seeing a commitment through is what helps focus you. That was the great achievment of The Walk. It was the only thing I saw completely through. And even that had blank spots missing with my incessant pushing forward to conquor my dwindling savings time clock.
I am feeling like I'm not abandoning a place this time, even though I don't know how long I'll be gone. It feels more like going on sebatial, an intense researh trip from wich I'll returne when I'm done. That's what makes me feel not uprooted, like still have a home.
Oct. 29, 2006
Seattle, WA
I spent today doing nothing, absolutely nothing. And though I needed it badly it doesn't at all feel good. I've been reading a lot of my old writings. Rants, poems, short stories, and they all say I'm lonely. They all say I have been since Hawaii. How is this? Are most people this way? I can see all these patterns in me, ways of being and circling thoughts. I keep striving for someone and its likely its that thats keeping me. Maybe that's what made the walk great. I had everythign but a friend with me, but I haven't had that so it seemed perfect. It goes all the way back too. Friends were always my family and losing that one ever present best friend was the loss of my family and now I can't function. I'm deteriorating quicker and quicker these days and I keep thinking writing or projects or something need to get me going. But I don't and won't and it makes the most sense to me now that its that missing friend, not a lover, just a friend. Whatever this is with Rachel too is depressing some. This flirtation/just friends thing. I don't know that I can do it, it sort of smacks hard of the Allyson scenario but more aceptable. She's scared of this friendship I think.
Nov. 24, 2006
Seattle, WA
Liberalized in as much bullshit as I can be there is a requisite that allows a certain allotment before it becomes stritly extremist PC. Why am I angry with my surroundings? They embody everything I believe I stand for. And I still think I do. Catch phrases, groups, gangs, organizations of the such stand to tell the world what about what they don't already know. And what we know is what they say, and what we could care about is why they repeat and chant into our heads like new age idolotrists chanting new religion. Who believes in religion? New Age or otherwise or slogans all the same.
Jan. 13, 2007
Wilbraham, MA
Nana is dead and the ties to childhood finally whither completely away. It does not feel like a stage into manhood or adultness, it more feels like the ideas I've known and looked to for family are dead as well and its time to form a new concept of the idea. With these ties all gone I must reinvent what family is to me so that I can find its beginnings and create it a new. Seeing how different other families interact among their own reminds me of this.
I look over my genealogy research and had always wondered how it came to be that someone was the head of the family, the father or mother of it all centuries ago. I knew each generation had its own head, ours was Nana, but she was not the "mother of it all". I'm seeing now, with all the divorces, the lack of family cohesion, that many of my generation will have lost the large families in closeness and potentially could become mothers and fathers of new segments of a family. I'm realizing if I have a family that will be my role in history. Family history at least. Maybe not, since Wendie and I are so close, so then I think it might fall to my mom. That seems wrong though.
The idea that I'm not apart of my family after today is oddly familiar and strange. Like my comfortability with exploring new places. The ground itself is unknown, but the feeling I have going into it is my most comfortable. I am alone and I've learned to love that and with that as my seed I can relearn how to have a family again.
Jan. 13, 2007
Wilbraham, MA
The Grocery Store story is my favorite of Nans because it tells most of the principles I inheritted from her. Her legacy was Loving and Family and in those are Trust, Faith, and Community. MJ told me of a new aspect to the story I didn't know so I'll retell it to myself here for a new meaning in it.
MJ said the day before this story she had been aught with a Tootsie Roll in her pocket by Nan. Nana gave her hell for it wondering where she had gotten the money for it. Papa had been out of work and money was extremely tight, so for little Mary Jane to have a nickel for a Tootsie Roll was suspicious.
It came out that she'd taken it from Nana's pockets without asking. MJ had justified it to herself because Billie used to clean out the car and was told any money he found in there was his, so MJ leaned out the coat pockets. Now MJ described Nan going off on her, out of character, as a sign of how tight money most have been. I'm sure that's true, but I also see it as how imparitive it was, especially during that time of hardship, for family to trust one another. So begins the story of the groery store.
They were living on Edgewood Ave. in Longmeadow and the house was becoming bare. There was no money to feed the family but there was no food to feed them either so Nana resolved against her values of Trust for her Family and set off to the grocery store with an empty checkbook. She wrestled with the idea of writing a knowingly bad check to feed her children and in the end couldn't bring herself to do it. She returned home wondering how else she could get food on her table when she opened her door and saw, like water turned to wine, it was already there.
Her neighbor had emptied out the food in her kitchen that would spoil while they went away on a trip and had delivered grocery bag upon grocery bag of food for Nana and Papa to enjoy knowing that times were tough then.
As I've found going through my life keeping unwavering to all your values as Nana did that day, and trhough out her life, everything comes to you as its needed. I've realized looking bak over my own life that I think on that very story at least a few times every year and I have always found it as my compass when my values were put to a test and I believe I've succeeded in those tests having had Nana as my guide.
Jan. 14, 2007
Springfield, MA
I'm in a place I've been in over a thousand times before and nothing's the same. Nothing has changed except the passing of years in my absence. Its hard to behold. The memories of my stay here have been washed away with Earth's rotations. My ghost does stay, but on a shelf, like a well read story loved quickly, followed quickly by a different but equally loved well read story. I am the past here and I can't see where I'm a future. My present is a muddled confusion of wishing the past and wanting a future. And this point I see as an historical point of power. Transition is when the sense of self is weakest and the power to change completely is at its height. A comfortable mind in a transitional period is the most powerful of things. I lack resolve and this is where it seems previous generations, save for the most recent, held their strength.
Jan. 23, 2007
New York City, NY
Today was an interesting bit of insight. I went to see mom's palm reader who, back in '93, predicted her meeting and marrying Musty and the quality of marriage it would be to an extent. Not bad for a '97 meeting and '99 wedding. Wendie saw him a week and a half ago saying its likely she wouldn't have kids and would find a man to love but not until late in life.
Anyway, so I went to see him today with all this transition going on in my life and we talked for two hours then went out to lunch for a bit. The things that shocked me but resonated were when he said I was trying to be someone I'm not with all my adventures. That that was a part of me but not a main part and that stability and security and routine were what was natural to me.
It rang deep in me, but what threw me was his insistane that I'd be happy as an accountant or insurance guy or something. That I hate that idea now beause I'm rebelling against that notion of myself. I don't see that, or more importantly, feel it. He did say it was high time I got off my ass and made up my mind career wise, and I agree my happiest career would not involve travel but more likely community. Something to keep present in my up and coming job hunt.
The other thing was he said in my mid to late thirites, 37 he guessed, I'll get involved with someone I know now, and have peripherally for a long time, and hate. And she and her friends hate me beause of our subconscious recognition of our similarities. He said likely we'd have kids and family, and though its rocky will last a long time.
I have no idea who that could be. Anyway, Margo's meeting me soon so I'll write more tomorrow.
March 21, 2007
Seattle, WA
So according to astro people the last 19 years are over. A new age and rise in change will be oming. Wend and I thought for us it was in reference to the divorce and family issues. I'm now thinking maybe I'll go back to the more reclusive self I was at 11 and earlier. The tranquil years of inwardness, its where I feel myself drifting.
Laurence backed that feeling up and encouraged it. I suppose I have been hiding that since then, the contentment with reclusion that is. Another Walk is a must, but in a few years. I'd love ot leave right now, but it'd be horribly unhealthy spiritually.
I wonder what all my cells ould remember if provoked. Its been the latest question among Wendie and I, and Rachel and I. What would I do best because I really think I could impress people.
Aug. 23, 2007
Somewhere on a train from Seattle, WA to Washington D.C.
And another trip is on. Looking over these last blurbs its interesting to read the shifts and turns that happened these past 6 months at SPUD. I'm still trying to recognize that its over and yet here I am on the train.
This is a definite first of being a night over inot a train trip away to drastic new change and still feel so very much like its a temporary vacation and will be back to work in a week. Wend feels the same way, like I'd be back in abit. Its very weird, unsettling, but also a little nice, oddly. I'm wondering if I've just driven myself into such a work mode at SPUD that, with all the website stuff, I still feel like I'm working?
Sitting here on the train, staring out the window feels strange, like something to get used to again. This slow recognition I'm thinking might be nice, because I hope it will be a steady unwinding from this.
Aug. 25, 2007
Somewhere on a train from Seattle, WA to Washington D.C.
I feel convinced of my lack of conviction and I'm not sure if that's good or not. Good in the sense of identifying something or not because it doesn't matter if that needs to be clearly seen or not.
I've been arguing in my head with Musty about what this step in my life is doing for me, this travel. Is it simply a palette cleanser from Stu, coffee shops, SPUD, and Seattle, or am I going somewhere with this and just haven't identified where? I strongly believe its the latter, but I strongly also agree that ould be wishful thinking to make this trip healthy. There's a lot to this trip because its a period ending not just a sentence or a paragraph, but a long chapter with no notion of what the next will bring. Like a cliff hanger with no subject matter for basis, just the knowledge that quite a bit still needs to happen to have as story.
Vague options hang hungrily in the air and I'm relutant to grab at any of them, but longing and desiring eah possibility there. Life seems to have ripened without maturing yet. This trip seems a lot like a way to keep stagnane off, while I work on decision making. Maybe that's why its good to do. Trying to figure out how or what to decide while growing stale sounds like a brilliant way to fuck everything up and lose myself.
Its interesting that that's the battle everyone is fighting as all these things ome now. Me, Wendie, Jane are all trying our damnedest to hold on to our sense of self. And I think we all feel time is our challenger.
Aug. 25, 2007
Somewhere on a train from Seattle, WA to Washington D.C.
Here's a good question. Where to live after this? I'm obviously not going to answer this now, but even that general idea of some plae new again or return yet again to some place known. Neither sound very good to me.
New but familiar feels better, but logically sounds like the worst of all. Leaving the country as a permanent or even just indefinite time I don't like either. I like being an American, minus all the connotations that brings with it. Its the only thing left I can solidly say I am in that way. I'm not a New Englander or a New Yorker as much anymore, and I@m definitely not from Denver or Seattle. I don't even have a place I can say my family is home to. I never really realized how extensively homeless I am.
I've said this before on the Walk but after this trip I really should dig in where ever I land next and arve out a new home, like a pioneer.
It feels somewhat like finding a wife for a family. I suppose it exactly like that. Someplace I'll love until I die, and love entirely until then. I am convinced I'll find both those.
Feb. 23, 2008
Denver, CO
Getting back into Denver, the reality is starting to settle. I'm mostly excited to get all my stuff back in one spot. I'm worried about falling back into my old pattern and dragging on my usual way of skimming. I'm feeling the need to settle and get life really going again.
Jane really got me excited about that and a real idea of a family. I agree with her though that maybe I want that too much right now. I know the key for me is to feel like I have a home. I need to fall in love iwth a plae as muchc as I need to fall in love with someone. Denver may be exactly what Jane was saying she was to me; the right enough person for me when I want it.
I lack resolve and I need to find it now. A business plan is porbably the most important thing because it gives me something to keep me from feeling aimless and it keeps me in Denver wiht a purpose and an attachment. Friends will strengthen around me as I prove to be a fixture. Then I'll find a family one I feel like I have a home.
My "big ideas" need to now be oriented around the idea of being in Denver. I like the idea of find a lake house for family summers. Classes are something that will help establish me as well and the tax course in September is perfect timing for that.
I'm excited to see Jane then as well, but I'm wary of letting the idea of her and I tempt me away because we won't be ready for each other then either.
Feb. 23, 2008
Denver, CO
Can I avoid dating? I know I'll hit a point where I'll want to date again and that it will only be out of loneliness and I'll be back in a pattern of getting excited about a girl and fous only on what's right about her until I'm used to her and I then focus on what's incompatible between us and break it off, then find another.
Jane sniffed all this out quickly and it possibly is what happened with her. She knew I was too exited for myself in the beginning and we both knew it wasn't right at the end. I still think that it could really work something in the futrue but a few years up. Until then I can hold a little comfort in knowing someone good for me is in fact out there and known.
Undated
Denver, CO
To avoid dating and drinking in the sense of it being hand in hand I need an alternative sense of excitement and sociability that I can do on a whim. Kareoke is good so long as I can always find someone or become known enough to drop into places.
Undated
Denver, CO
This is hard to remember that I am on the road to somewhere. Right now I feel like I'm back in the exact same place I've always been in. But I am heading somewhere and I need to figure out how to make that feel more concrete. I need to establish steps to take that don't need money or location specifics. Possibly set a size for the location as a base for planning.
March 18, 2008
Denver, CO
Since that last email exchange with Jane needing to be on her own I've felt a resurge of loneliness. I suppose I really was hanging on to the idea of us getting bak together, and still am, but I did know we weren't going to be anytime soon. Cutting off communication, though, really drives that point home that everything I want in life won't be attained anytime soon.
I think its more than just her and I, but an emphasis of how behind I've gotten on myself. I've been thinking a lot about my old film days wondering if I was right to drop out of it. I still know I was, but its hard to remember that at 23 I had a good career and was on my way and now at 31 I'm still starting over.
I should be working on a business plan these days, but I think above all I need to feel more sociable to feel like I live here now, and not that my boxes are all here. I think that's improtant so that I don't frustrate myself and decide somewhere else is better again and have to start all over. Then I can make a plan without feeling like I'm holing away, because right now I feel a frenzy of wanting to move elsewhere to Seattle of all places, to New York again.
March 26, 2008
Denver, CO
I am here again, and that location is irrelevant. Shades, Netherworld, Barricudas, Bonzai, the bars of the world. I'm here, enjoying it on my own and its strictly the hope of nostaligic resurgence. I like my regularity, but loath the routine of it. Why do I fight my natural ways?
Is it as Laurence says, that I resist myself? I seek repetition naturally and loath it when I get it. What cures that other than the walk? Would a walking lifestyle cure it? Why do I feel as if that's completely out of the question? As if its been assessed, considered, and dismissed.
How many parts of me am I regularly dismissing or ignoring? How much of me will have surfaced by 70? Will I have kids then or will I be handing these notes to Izzy and Aenea? Is that upsetting? Somewhat.
Loreli told me I don't understand infancy. I know that to be true all too well. I get the theory, but that theory, I believe, is what rules out a walking lifestyle. How much will Loreli appreciate having a daughter, of all options, when Izzy is 24 and out on her own and Loreli is 47 and still young enough to run around? Will she regret not being free in her 20's and 30's, or revel in her late 40's having all by then while I hopefully am in pre-teen hell.
This place is a pirate ship.
I should have kids by now. I don't and see none coming soon. Laurence holds me steadfast, but if I hit 40 with nothing I hold little to scorn but myself. I am baby crazy. Fucking 30's.
I say that but just as easily i could say fuckin' 5 year olds. It's pretty clear I just feel like I lack family.
Why is that? I do love Mom, Dad, and Wend. That's a political statement right there, isn't it, to myself. I was left out, I knew it at 5, I wanted family sine then. That seems wrong but not far off.
April 5, 2008
Denver, CO
What kind of jerk am I up to now? I'm looking to make friends yet I'm turning down obvious invites out for a strange variety of trite reasons. I can tell I'm resisting making new friends, as well as closing the gap in becoming closer with old friends. How do I catch myself quicker to stop this?
I am a hermit, and I am because I'm pining after long dead days in New York and mass in the deep recesses of my mind. I'm looking for new days like those without letting them manifest through the little paths they do. I'm controlling it.
How do I not? How do I make sure I go out when its my head saying no. Is this that seratonin thing? My reasoning tonight was money and rising early for something I can easily skip. Drinking also makes a case to me when I feel withdrawn. Nikki, tonight, was clearly looking to go eat and I could only think of getting home despite my ravenous hunger.
I need to route this isolation in me otherwise I never will be able to date healthily. Am I taking on too much to try to do this to myself on my own? Is that a symptom of itself? I'll have to draw in some outside thought on this.
Undated
Denver, CO
So celibacy? This has been an interesting experiment in counter intuition under the name of mental health reparations. I have recently convneced myself well enough that I should kiss Elizabeth. This process and resolution was so long and tricky that it seems to me that it has become more of a defence rather than a recovery, though I still realize the recovery is well needed.
I think removing myself from the equation may have been where I went wrong. The solution of things in general seems often to be finding and managing the balane of the extreme and the lack. Hence why most see life as a bitch. I do like a good teetering and tottering, however, which to me is the spice of life.
So, in lieu of this, how do I broach the challenge of putting more meaning back into sex rather than the hedonism I revel in so much today?
Aug. 26, 2008
Denver, CO
Following my feelings and intuition I believe is what I really need to do to move forward. I think the conflict and frustration I'm feeling is that I've stopped doing that and everyone has been encouraging me to stop. I need to start taking it very seriously and stop half assedly doing it as a way to conveniontly excuse my dreaming.
Faith is what I need to regrasp and I believe that's what Todd re-entering my life was to inspire but I don't think I'm meant to travel long with him. I think what i need to do is travel alone, but more intently, and in the same way Todd's doing now, I need to follow the signs provided for me but fearlessly, patiently, and without hesitation. I should leave after jane goes adn publish everything I do and experience.
The focus needs to be not on what I'm to do when I'm finished, but of who I am. I think people are right in seeing me as a waste away. I have incredible potential and I'm wasting it on aloofness and fear of responsibility. I need to own that and open up to truly accepting concequences.
Oct. 15, 2008
Denver, CO
There is nothing here. Not here in this room, but here in the muscle memory of my hand and fingertips. I sit straing at this lined blank page waiting for the expressive automoton to turn back on and vent reflexively its surroundings. Instead I feel a deadened connection between my brain and the fingertips that manage the pen work.
Thoughts ramble continuously through the forest of synapses and grey matter marsh encompassing them, but when the book opens and the pen is in hand a blockage pops up, somewhere around the neck and shoulders I think. As I walk notions bombard me and the world articulates itself. My mouth will open to expel it and there it becomes stuck again in my tonsils.
This could explain my cough and shallow breathing. My gnawed fingertips are possibly chips away at walls to break out from the inside. Everyone around me seems glazed over in a similar focus on trying to emerge from themselves. Open books with eyes looking anywhere but the pages, conversations with half written expressions between faces betraying the lack of interest or comprehension of what's being said. Laptops seem the only ones successful at suking in all sense of attention, taught by its television cousin as primer.
Feb. 1, 2009
Denver, CO
I am planning to leave Denver once more to go on this crazy intuitive journey with Todd. I want to go but I don't want to leave for once. I don't even know if I want to go, I just want to live out of a pack again.
I am a little concerned about traveling with Todd, or even just wiht anyone particuarly with the purpose for this trip being to reconnect with myself and intuition. That may be difficult if two intuitions clash and one wants to control the other. Something to watch out for. Otherwise it will be nice to have him to rebound thoughts and notions off each other.
What am I really looking for? It seems I'm after reconneting to life which I've been distant from with these day-to-day coffee shop jobs. In film it didn't seem that way as much. I need to regain that freedom of moving my own way again. I've been doing that but only with tension all around me like Vince, Nick, Henri, etc. all cracking down over me.
Todd wants the same, I think, but isn't as clear on the reality, I think. I might be totally off about that. Either way, I travel for a while, or not, but I want to be able to go to the plaes I need to to answer questions, and I don't wwant to stop until those are satisfied enough to stay put again.
Feb. 25, 2009
Denver, CO
These past two months have been quite amazing. I find myself, once again, on the cusp of picking up everything and traveling again. The difference this time, however, is that I'm not feeling lost at all about it. I'm not having the hesitations now about should I or shouldn't I, or what will happen next or to me in the future; am I just wandering? Any of that.
I think the convction comes in facing up tot he fact that I am just wandering now, whether I stay here or move on. I've been aimless since things began falling apart in new York back in '99. Ten years later I'm finally identifying that, not that I haven't stabbed at it, or had inclinations in between, but the bouts of stability attempts and intersest lock downs confused me into thinking I'd solved the mystery feeling. Then I'd quickly realize I hadn't at all.
Groping is what its been. Wendie was one who helped me along on this realization when she said last fall that making a commitment to either staying put or wandering is still a commitment and seeing a commitment through is what helps focus you. That was the great achievment of The Walk. It was the only thing I saw completely through. And even that had blank spots missing with my incessant pushing forward to conquor my dwindling savings time clock.
I am feeling like I'm not abandoning a place this time, even though I don't know how long I'll be gone. It feels more like going on sebatial, an intense researh trip from wich I'll returne when I'm done. That's what makes me feel not uprooted, like still have a home.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Shift in Perspective
The weekend in Massachusetts visiting my Dad was a rather introspective one. With my sister there to relate the strange layers of complexities recently developing in the land of our upbringing, with family of every variety in the mix, it brought to the surface a lot of the thoughts that have been swirling around under the surface with me. Things that didn't even relate to being there at all, but just what's going on with me.
Being comfortable with calling Massachusetts home when people ask that ever elusive question to me of "where am I from?" has only just resurfaced this past year. In fact, only since the visit earlier in the year with Todd back in May. It wasn't a shame or anything like that which prevented me from feeling comfortable calling Western Mass my home town, it just seemed inaccurate. Longmeadow life, and my life from 18 and earlier, has been dead to me for a long, long time. Probably ever since I returned from Hawaii in April of '95 to a grey town, literally smelling of sewage, and scattered friends, half of whom I'd felt had betrayed me, the other half had run off as I had. My stay there was only for a summer, and that was only because I felt I had nowhere else to go. It was the last time I was to feel trapped by lack of options.
It was during this time I met Stacey. In fact, I met her the first week I was back and was a horrible boyfriend to her the two months we dated. Gus was my companion as usual for the summer, and when I left for New York that fall I had no intention of ever returning, and only hoped Gus would eventually make his way to NYC to keep up our daily friendship, but that never happened.
Years passed and I went through many lives in that time. While in high school going through my suicidal teen phase at 14, as I think most go through, I came to the conclusion I didn't like the idea of suicide at all. It seemed very final, perhaps I was afraid of the commitment. Instead I decided that if life got to that point where an end seemed the only solution I would simply pick up and leave rather than off myself. I did this going to Hawaii and after New York I did it again moving suddenly and inexplicably to Denver. This is what I mean by saying that I'd lived many lives between 18 and now.
Being home in Mass, now, particularly with my sister, all the business going on with my Dad's health and living conditions, and the reacquaintance I've been growing with my aunt and cousins both in Mass and on a whole it was a very tangible reconnection to a past life deeply buried in my subconscious. Wendie has been going through very much of a similar process as well, and having her to reflect with while both being in the home we'd long rejected and forgotten about was refreshing.
We took a trip up to Amherst and Northampton for Saturday. Driving up through the old New England winding stony roads it no longer looked like plowing through a ghost town, and grunting through a return to appease Dad. As we drove up the landscape, and hung out in the area for the day, it oddly felt like going to a place you'd never been to before, but felt comfortable in as if you'd lived there before.
My Mom and sister talk about when they go to the west country in England and how they feel very "at home" there. The three of us are all firm believers in reincarnation and they have strong feelings that they must have lived very impressionable lives there for it to resonate so strongly. It was this feeling I was getting from a land that I had in fact lived in no more than 15 years ago. It was interesting to me that it was a mystical feeling of home rather than a concrete recognition of home. That sort of feeling that boils out of your flesh as if its tied to the land rather than simply knowing this place or that place. Tourist spots to revisit from your youth and say "huh, I remember that".
I'm not sure if I'm making sense, but anyway, that was the jist of the mindset I fell into upon returning home, and Wendie seemed very much to be feeling the same.
There were also still tensions among the family between Dad and Barb and the reactions being given to the great mustering by the family for his 63rd. Dad was sweet, he was more emphatic than I'd seen him about coming up to get me with Wendie in Albany, as well as spending time with us on Sunday, when the party for him was. Because of that there was a undertoned bitterness brought to that Halloween evening when there was to be a dinner at my cousin Tim's house with the family and Dad and Barb opted not to show. None of us could understand it, but in my mind I've resolved just to let these things go and enjoy the family that did come.
I got to see my Uncle Bruce and his wife Cheryl who I rarely get to see. I was also able to meet my cousin's new daughter, Mina, and roam around the neighborhood for his son, Deniz's, first trick or treating venture. It was still Big Family feel, but I was wishing Dad could have been there, and more so that he could have made the effort to get there. He is relatively immobile, though, in regards to driving distances, and completely reliant on being taken there. For this, the gap in his presence there fell to Barb in my mind, whether fairly or not.
Sunday, however, was a nice display of family which was bitter sweet for me. My Dad's favorite cousin, my Uncle Don and Aunt Mary Ellen, came down from New Hampshire since "the kids" had flown in declaring this odd numbered birthday a big event. My Dad's sister, MJ, her husband Frank, my cousin Tim, his wife Burcu, and their kids also came to my cousin Amy and Corrin's house where Wendie and I were staying to really make it a grand celebration. We'd all chipped in to get my Dad a laptop since he's recently taken to writing up stories of his life.
The gathering was bitter sweet because it stung of nostalgia to me of a long dead tradition of big family gathering together and this seemed like an isolated tribute to those days 20 to 25 years ago. It was a wonderful day, and knowing it would end not to be repeated anytime soon was the lingering thought in the back of my mind. I think Wendie was of the same mindset.
Over that weekend, she and I entertained ideas together of either one of us, or both, returning to live there some time in the near future. This has been the main shift in perspective lately. For the first time in a long time I'm contemplating returning to the place I had long sworn off as dead, and regarded as a life failure if I ever returned. For the first decade of being gone, my visits back had rarely been longer than 24 hours if that's any indicator of how little I regarded the place.
Things now seem to be in the air that have rerouted my compass from south to north, much to my very great surprise. I don't see myself settling in there, but I do see myself possibly setting up there as I have in Denver. While in Boston in the beginning of that week I reconnected with my old best friend, Josh, whom I hadn't seen in about 20 years. He and I were inseparable from about preschool up until I was about 12 or 13, and this reconnection was intensely casual.
I couldn't get over how much of every detail of our childhood together that, not only he could remember vividly, but that I couldn't recall at all. I've always regarded myself as having a very good memory extending back well into my youth, but as he quizzed me I realized how little I knew.
Along with him, my friends Bill and Laura have moved up to Boston from DC, and although they aren't all keen on it now, its interesting to me to see they are part of this new draw home. Stacey also is a major reconnection. When I left Boston she picked me up for a ridiculous day and a half roadtrip from Boston to my Mom's house in New Jersey. I have completely fallen in love with her spirit for adventure and outlook on life.
While on this wandering, twisty road adventure we talked over all of our thoughts and events concerning our lives these days which obviously included these new thoughts on returning home on my end. She was very kind to offer her place up as a place of refuge in exchange for me building her a shed. I'm not sure she knows my complete unfamiliarity with carpentry, but I think I could pull it off.
The road trip, however, was immensely fun including an hour long visit to Ikea for an impromptu photoshoot, a visit to the Gillette Castle in Hadlyme, CT, and several stops along the coast. We were also very strict to her brand of roadtripping, which means staying clear of any and all interstates, hence taking a day and a half for an otherwise five our drive.
During this week I spent a lot of time revisiting my old writings, as I often do when I'm under shift in perspective. Normally these revisits are somewhat depressing as I can literally read the depressing cycle of my life; go off and travel, get bored of that, return home and try to root in, get bored of that, repeat. What was inspiring about this looking back was that I didn't see that this time.
Instead, this time I saw progress. Granted it was unrecognized progress forward at the time, dating back to '06, but seeing it now with three years hindsight it became quite visible. I've decided I think I'd like to share those writings on here, so in the next few days I'll update them.
As for right now, once I got into New York with Stacey we had a grand visit with my Mom, then a really great night meeting Stacey's friend Craig. I flew out the next day to Iceland, had a day there, and now have been in London for the past few days whiling away my time on the computer with evening jaunts out to the pub with my friend Jane, and her friends. Life is good, and the best part of it being good is that I'm now looking at December which two weeks ago I had seen as "all laid out to me" and am now completely baffled as to what to expect.
We shall see.
Being comfortable with calling Massachusetts home when people ask that ever elusive question to me of "where am I from?" has only just resurfaced this past year. In fact, only since the visit earlier in the year with Todd back in May. It wasn't a shame or anything like that which prevented me from feeling comfortable calling Western Mass my home town, it just seemed inaccurate. Longmeadow life, and my life from 18 and earlier, has been dead to me for a long, long time. Probably ever since I returned from Hawaii in April of '95 to a grey town, literally smelling of sewage, and scattered friends, half of whom I'd felt had betrayed me, the other half had run off as I had. My stay there was only for a summer, and that was only because I felt I had nowhere else to go. It was the last time I was to feel trapped by lack of options.
It was during this time I met Stacey. In fact, I met her the first week I was back and was a horrible boyfriend to her the two months we dated. Gus was my companion as usual for the summer, and when I left for New York that fall I had no intention of ever returning, and only hoped Gus would eventually make his way to NYC to keep up our daily friendship, but that never happened.
Years passed and I went through many lives in that time. While in high school going through my suicidal teen phase at 14, as I think most go through, I came to the conclusion I didn't like the idea of suicide at all. It seemed very final, perhaps I was afraid of the commitment. Instead I decided that if life got to that point where an end seemed the only solution I would simply pick up and leave rather than off myself. I did this going to Hawaii and after New York I did it again moving suddenly and inexplicably to Denver. This is what I mean by saying that I'd lived many lives between 18 and now.
Being home in Mass, now, particularly with my sister, all the business going on with my Dad's health and living conditions, and the reacquaintance I've been growing with my aunt and cousins both in Mass and on a whole it was a very tangible reconnection to a past life deeply buried in my subconscious. Wendie has been going through very much of a similar process as well, and having her to reflect with while both being in the home we'd long rejected and forgotten about was refreshing.
We took a trip up to Amherst and Northampton for Saturday. Driving up through the old New England winding stony roads it no longer looked like plowing through a ghost town, and grunting through a return to appease Dad. As we drove up the landscape, and hung out in the area for the day, it oddly felt like going to a place you'd never been to before, but felt comfortable in as if you'd lived there before.
My Mom and sister talk about when they go to the west country in England and how they feel very "at home" there. The three of us are all firm believers in reincarnation and they have strong feelings that they must have lived very impressionable lives there for it to resonate so strongly. It was this feeling I was getting from a land that I had in fact lived in no more than 15 years ago. It was interesting to me that it was a mystical feeling of home rather than a concrete recognition of home. That sort of feeling that boils out of your flesh as if its tied to the land rather than simply knowing this place or that place. Tourist spots to revisit from your youth and say "huh, I remember that".
I'm not sure if I'm making sense, but anyway, that was the jist of the mindset I fell into upon returning home, and Wendie seemed very much to be feeling the same.
There were also still tensions among the family between Dad and Barb and the reactions being given to the great mustering by the family for his 63rd. Dad was sweet, he was more emphatic than I'd seen him about coming up to get me with Wendie in Albany, as well as spending time with us on Sunday, when the party for him was. Because of that there was a undertoned bitterness brought to that Halloween evening when there was to be a dinner at my cousin Tim's house with the family and Dad and Barb opted not to show. None of us could understand it, but in my mind I've resolved just to let these things go and enjoy the family that did come.
I got to see my Uncle Bruce and his wife Cheryl who I rarely get to see. I was also able to meet my cousin's new daughter, Mina, and roam around the neighborhood for his son, Deniz's, first trick or treating venture. It was still Big Family feel, but I was wishing Dad could have been there, and more so that he could have made the effort to get there. He is relatively immobile, though, in regards to driving distances, and completely reliant on being taken there. For this, the gap in his presence there fell to Barb in my mind, whether fairly or not.
Sunday, however, was a nice display of family which was bitter sweet for me. My Dad's favorite cousin, my Uncle Don and Aunt Mary Ellen, came down from New Hampshire since "the kids" had flown in declaring this odd numbered birthday a big event. My Dad's sister, MJ, her husband Frank, my cousin Tim, his wife Burcu, and their kids also came to my cousin Amy and Corrin's house where Wendie and I were staying to really make it a grand celebration. We'd all chipped in to get my Dad a laptop since he's recently taken to writing up stories of his life.
The gathering was bitter sweet because it stung of nostalgia to me of a long dead tradition of big family gathering together and this seemed like an isolated tribute to those days 20 to 25 years ago. It was a wonderful day, and knowing it would end not to be repeated anytime soon was the lingering thought in the back of my mind. I think Wendie was of the same mindset.
Over that weekend, she and I entertained ideas together of either one of us, or both, returning to live there some time in the near future. This has been the main shift in perspective lately. For the first time in a long time I'm contemplating returning to the place I had long sworn off as dead, and regarded as a life failure if I ever returned. For the first decade of being gone, my visits back had rarely been longer than 24 hours if that's any indicator of how little I regarded the place.
Things now seem to be in the air that have rerouted my compass from south to north, much to my very great surprise. I don't see myself settling in there, but I do see myself possibly setting up there as I have in Denver. While in Boston in the beginning of that week I reconnected with my old best friend, Josh, whom I hadn't seen in about 20 years. He and I were inseparable from about preschool up until I was about 12 or 13, and this reconnection was intensely casual.
I couldn't get over how much of every detail of our childhood together that, not only he could remember vividly, but that I couldn't recall at all. I've always regarded myself as having a very good memory extending back well into my youth, but as he quizzed me I realized how little I knew.
Along with him, my friends Bill and Laura have moved up to Boston from DC, and although they aren't all keen on it now, its interesting to me to see they are part of this new draw home. Stacey also is a major reconnection. When I left Boston she picked me up for a ridiculous day and a half roadtrip from Boston to my Mom's house in New Jersey. I have completely fallen in love with her spirit for adventure and outlook on life.
While on this wandering, twisty road adventure we talked over all of our thoughts and events concerning our lives these days which obviously included these new thoughts on returning home on my end. She was very kind to offer her place up as a place of refuge in exchange for me building her a shed. I'm not sure she knows my complete unfamiliarity with carpentry, but I think I could pull it off.
The road trip, however, was immensely fun including an hour long visit to Ikea for an impromptu photoshoot, a visit to the Gillette Castle in Hadlyme, CT, and several stops along the coast. We were also very strict to her brand of roadtripping, which means staying clear of any and all interstates, hence taking a day and a half for an otherwise five our drive.
During this week I spent a lot of time revisiting my old writings, as I often do when I'm under shift in perspective. Normally these revisits are somewhat depressing as I can literally read the depressing cycle of my life; go off and travel, get bored of that, return home and try to root in, get bored of that, repeat. What was inspiring about this looking back was that I didn't see that this time.
Instead, this time I saw progress. Granted it was unrecognized progress forward at the time, dating back to '06, but seeing it now with three years hindsight it became quite visible. I've decided I think I'd like to share those writings on here, so in the next few days I'll update them.
As for right now, once I got into New York with Stacey we had a grand visit with my Mom, then a really great night meeting Stacey's friend Craig. I flew out the next day to Iceland, had a day there, and now have been in London for the past few days whiling away my time on the computer with evening jaunts out to the pub with my friend Jane, and her friends. Life is good, and the best part of it being good is that I'm now looking at December which two weeks ago I had seen as "all laid out to me" and am now completely baffled as to what to expect.
We shall see.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
10/30- Homecoming
Sometime mid-morning Don and I pulled into Binghamton and it was a real goodbye this time. I couldn't believe I'd just spent three days and four nights on a ride that proved to be incredible in many ways having ridden from the middle of Nebraska to four hours from my Dad's door in upstate New York. It was now Friday and his birthday was the next day, and I was within spitting distance. Once again, I had to look back over the course of events and realize all I needed to do was just trust that everything would work out and follow my gut, and it would.
Don bought me a coffee then slipped me $5 saying I'd have to eat again before I got home. I wished him well on his endeavors that he had coming up and we told each other we'd stay in touch via email. I then sat down with my coffee in front of the truck stop and he went off to drop off his load. I was there maybe half an hour, and hadn't even finished my coffee, before Dave came by.
Dave had just come for a coffee, I think, and when he passed me going back to his car and found out I was looking to get east, he said he'd give me a ride 50 miles when he got back from the junkyard. I offered to help there and he accepted. I hadn't been to a scrapyard in decades. Probably not since I was 8 or 9 was I going through old cars watching my Dad pick out parts for his beat up old green Toyota. It was nice spending a while pulling out starters and just wandering around with tools.
From there we went back past the truck stop and hit NY-17 East. Oneonta, the town I was born in, was right up the highway north of Binghamton, and I later found out that down 17 was the road my folks would take to get into the city. Dave, as it turned out, had been an avid hitcher and had all sorts of stories about sleeping under bridges, cutting open palm trees down in Florida for some sort of fruit inside, and general survival skills along that line. He was interesting to listen to, but definitely had a bitterness about people and life in general from those days.
Eventually he dropped me off at a rest stop in Roscoe wishing me luck since he spent much of the ride telling me people in New York don't pick up hitch hikers. Pennsylvania, yes, definitely, but upstate New York was a different lot. The skies were grey again, and it was another rest stop like the one in Auburn; just a bathroom pit stop. I sat out front and broke out the crackers and peanut butter I'd been hauling around since Missouri. As I got close to finishing those up about forty five minutes later I noticed a big pink rig hauling what I figured to be trash pull in.
I didn't take too much notice because it definitely looked like a company truck, no cabin in the back or anything so I didn't even try hitching it. When the guy came out he looked over at me and asked where I was going. I told him I was shooting for Kingston to get to Mass, and he waved me over. I've never caught a ride with a company truck before.
Harold drove me the rest of the way down 17 with few words. The few things he did have to say were a little shocking that he was telling some kid who just jumped in his truck. Apparently two years earlier he'd had an incredibly bad year. He had a stroke, found out his 11 year old was being molested, and his wife left him. The rest was silence.
He dropped me across the Hudson in Fishkill, NY at a gas station and told me to wait there, he was going to get more garbage to haul, and he'd be back to pick me up and bring me to Albany in about two hours. I took him for his word and didn't even try to hitch those two hours. I was still processing a lot of what Don had said and trying to interpret the past two weeks as to what, on a whole, was going on around me. Again, this is where people say I take this all too seriously, but for me it does seem to all make sense.
Two hours later Harold pulled right over and I jumped in. Soon I was up in Albany at a truckstop well off the main road. Wendie had flown in to Springfield a day or two earlier and I had been in touch with her through texting as Harold drove me to Albany. She offered to come pick me up there, since its an hour from home, so when I got in I just hung out there waiting on my ride.
Eventually I moved over to the bus station, since its an easier found landmark in town. Dad was coming with her and he knew precisely where it was. In the end, it all did work out. The three of us had a good family visit for the hour ride home, and I had made it in time for the birthday gathering.
Don bought me a coffee then slipped me $5 saying I'd have to eat again before I got home. I wished him well on his endeavors that he had coming up and we told each other we'd stay in touch via email. I then sat down with my coffee in front of the truck stop and he went off to drop off his load. I was there maybe half an hour, and hadn't even finished my coffee, before Dave came by.
Dave had just come for a coffee, I think, and when he passed me going back to his car and found out I was looking to get east, he said he'd give me a ride 50 miles when he got back from the junkyard. I offered to help there and he accepted. I hadn't been to a scrapyard in decades. Probably not since I was 8 or 9 was I going through old cars watching my Dad pick out parts for his beat up old green Toyota. It was nice spending a while pulling out starters and just wandering around with tools.
From there we went back past the truck stop and hit NY-17 East. Oneonta, the town I was born in, was right up the highway north of Binghamton, and I later found out that down 17 was the road my folks would take to get into the city. Dave, as it turned out, had been an avid hitcher and had all sorts of stories about sleeping under bridges, cutting open palm trees down in Florida for some sort of fruit inside, and general survival skills along that line. He was interesting to listen to, but definitely had a bitterness about people and life in general from those days.
Eventually he dropped me off at a rest stop in Roscoe wishing me luck since he spent much of the ride telling me people in New York don't pick up hitch hikers. Pennsylvania, yes, definitely, but upstate New York was a different lot. The skies were grey again, and it was another rest stop like the one in Auburn; just a bathroom pit stop. I sat out front and broke out the crackers and peanut butter I'd been hauling around since Missouri. As I got close to finishing those up about forty five minutes later I noticed a big pink rig hauling what I figured to be trash pull in.
I didn't take too much notice because it definitely looked like a company truck, no cabin in the back or anything so I didn't even try hitching it. When the guy came out he looked over at me and asked where I was going. I told him I was shooting for Kingston to get to Mass, and he waved me over. I've never caught a ride with a company truck before.
Harold drove me the rest of the way down 17 with few words. The few things he did have to say were a little shocking that he was telling some kid who just jumped in his truck. Apparently two years earlier he'd had an incredibly bad year. He had a stroke, found out his 11 year old was being molested, and his wife left him. The rest was silence.
He dropped me across the Hudson in Fishkill, NY at a gas station and told me to wait there, he was going to get more garbage to haul, and he'd be back to pick me up and bring me to Albany in about two hours. I took him for his word and didn't even try to hitch those two hours. I was still processing a lot of what Don had said and trying to interpret the past two weeks as to what, on a whole, was going on around me. Again, this is where people say I take this all too seriously, but for me it does seem to all make sense.
Two hours later Harold pulled right over and I jumped in. Soon I was up in Albany at a truckstop well off the main road. Wendie had flown in to Springfield a day or two earlier and I had been in touch with her through texting as Harold drove me to Albany. She offered to come pick me up there, since its an hour from home, so when I got in I just hung out there waiting on my ride.
Eventually I moved over to the bus station, since its an easier found landmark in town. Dad was coming with her and he knew precisely where it was. In the end, it all did work out. The three of us had a good family visit for the hour ride home, and I had made it in time for the birthday gathering.
10/27- The Long Haul with Trucker Don
There were many different facets to this ride with Don. The first bit of intrigue would show up that first day.
I had been under the impression that we'd be in St. Louis early in the afternoon after he'd picked me up. We pulled into a Pilot 20 miles east of Kansas City, however, and when we parked he told me we'd be here for most of the day. It turned out Don had been hauling a triple load pulling overtime through the past few days and needed to stop driving to catch up on his hours in his log book. This is the way these guys get things delivered on time is by fudging their books until they get to a point where they can reconcile the made up times.
On hearing this, since it was about 1pm, I started to get nervous about time again. It was Wednesday, and if I wasn't going to be dropped off in St. Louis, just three hours down the road, until tomorrow some time then I may as well get out here and try to press on. I told him as such, and decided to have lunch with him there, then I'll sit out front and hitch. It was a decent sized truck stop, perfectly located for me, and quite busy. I also had Don as a safety net on the random occasion that I couldn't get a ride out of there.
Over lunch Don was a bit sad. We had already grown attached to each other, and I did feel like this was a premature move to be making. Other than that it all made sense. When we finished I thanked him again, we swapped contact info, and I sat out front and he returned to the trucker's lounge.
It was a grey day and cold. So far, since leaving Matt's back in Oregon, I'd had rain predicted for every single day where ever I was and had only had that hour of drizzle back around Florence and the bit of drift snow outside of Denver. The next day Denver had gotten slammed with a huge snow storm, but where I was in Nebraska was blue skies. Anyway, sitting out there at the previously mentioned busy gas station maybe one car came through in an hour. No one was coming and going, the skies were grey, threatening, and cold, and I was starting to wonder if I was getting greedy for miles again. Perhaps this was a time to just relax again, enjoy the rest with Don, and keep on with him until it does feel right to get out. After all, this whole trip was supposed to be about following your gut, right?
An hour after sitting there with nothing but cold and desolation in the lot a lady who worked for the place came around collecting trash. She looked at me huddled up by a pillar with my bag and asked me why I wasn't inside watching the movie with the drivers. It struck a chord with me and I looked back at her and said that sounded like a good idea. So I went back in.
Don was watching TV upstairs in the lounge and I nudged his shoulder letting him know I was back and interested in staying on with him. He was happy about it and we watched TV for a bit before heading across the street to Walmart for a new phone for him. While there I picked up a new journal to write in and he wouldn't let me pay for it. In fact, the rest of the time I traveled with him he wouldn't let me pay for anything.
When we got back to the Pilot we watched Blades of Glory in the lounge then retired to the truck for the night. He let me use his laptop to check my email and I ended up on it until he needed to wake up and get moving around 2am. That put a strange twist on the next day, because when he got up to drive I passed out after a little while and didn't get up until we were past St. Louis.
The deal from the get go had been that he'd either bring me to St. Louis or I'd hang on until he made his drop where he suspected he'd be going to Arkansas after that, and hopefully Texas. In which case he said he'd drop me off in Memphis. I know that seems like some strange geography since I'm heading to the Northeast, but my theory was that Memphis was better than St. Louis because the South is easy to hitch and I could likely fly through to Virginia. Illinois, Indiana, and Ohio looked like more barriers to me. So when I passed out he asked if I wanted out in St. Louis and I told him I'd hang on past the drop.
I woke up as we were just heading south away from St. Louis. As we headed down I started working out my plans again as to where I should get out. I was eyeballing a place called Sikeston, MO which was right by the bridge to Kentucky and right on Don's way. I figured I could sit with him through the load to see where he's going next, although it seemed entirely likely he'd be heading west and he was going through Sikeston to get there, then I'd have him drop me there and I'd try flying through Kentucky, West Virginia, Pennsylvania, to New York and Mass. They all seemed like easy hitch states.
We hit the drop, and I tucked away in the back of the cab since I wasn't supposed to be there anyway. When he got back in he was chuckling. While winding our way out of that little town to get back on the main road he told me I was going to love his new load. We were off to Binghamton, NY and it needed to be in Friday morning.
Now Don had spent a lot of time telling me he hated the Northeast. Not just because he was a Texan, in fact I think that had little to do with it, but more as a trucker because no loads come out of there. According to him, if you head to the northeast you're probably deadheading out (riding empty) for a few hundred miles, which is costly in gas and time, before you get to another pay load. He took the job because the pay was nice enough to make up for that.
It was later that night, when we parked at a stop near Herculaneum, MO that Don completely whigged out my brain. Somehow Don got into saying that he really didn't like Malls. I couldn't agree more with him, but his reasoning was different than mine. He claimed he could read people and that when he went to crowded places like that it was hard for him because images of what was going on in everyone elses life around him would crowd in his brain.
Of course you can't have a conversation like this and not ask "well, what do you read off of me?", whether you believe him or not. He didn't want to tell me, but when I egged him on he said that, for one thing, I wasn't going to be going to South America when I thought. In fact, he said it wouldn't be for a few more years, his guess was 5 or 6. There were two reasons why, and they both had very short time frames. I've decided, however, that I don't want to write them up right now, because one was really good and one was really bad and I'd rather not put the notion out there in the air which could encourage the manifestation of the negative one.
The main point was that they were very direct, inambigious predictions coming out of nowhere talking about life changing events in my personal life within the next few months. The fact that one of them had a hard end date as to whether or not the prediction would come true or not was good for me, since I try to slump these things off with a grain of salt but in the end I can't help thinking about them. This way, when that time passes and nothing at all happens then I'll know the rest is bullshit.
What I found strange though, was that after he told me this stuff the conversation then changed to something else. About ten minutes later, as part of the new conversation, I made a reference to his ominous predictions. He didn't get it at all. Only ten minutes later he had completely forgotten about what he'd just said to me. When I reminded him, he told me that usually happened. Once he said what ever it was, and the message had been delivered, it completely left his brain. In his words, there was no reason to retain it. He promptly went to bed after that.
The next day was just a drift day. We blew through the midwest and by nightfall were camped out at a truckstop in Pennsylvania about an hour from Binghamton. Everything seemed said and done by then and it would soon be time to get out.
I had been under the impression that we'd be in St. Louis early in the afternoon after he'd picked me up. We pulled into a Pilot 20 miles east of Kansas City, however, and when we parked he told me we'd be here for most of the day. It turned out Don had been hauling a triple load pulling overtime through the past few days and needed to stop driving to catch up on his hours in his log book. This is the way these guys get things delivered on time is by fudging their books until they get to a point where they can reconcile the made up times.
On hearing this, since it was about 1pm, I started to get nervous about time again. It was Wednesday, and if I wasn't going to be dropped off in St. Louis, just three hours down the road, until tomorrow some time then I may as well get out here and try to press on. I told him as such, and decided to have lunch with him there, then I'll sit out front and hitch. It was a decent sized truck stop, perfectly located for me, and quite busy. I also had Don as a safety net on the random occasion that I couldn't get a ride out of there.
Over lunch Don was a bit sad. We had already grown attached to each other, and I did feel like this was a premature move to be making. Other than that it all made sense. When we finished I thanked him again, we swapped contact info, and I sat out front and he returned to the trucker's lounge.
It was a grey day and cold. So far, since leaving Matt's back in Oregon, I'd had rain predicted for every single day where ever I was and had only had that hour of drizzle back around Florence and the bit of drift snow outside of Denver. The next day Denver had gotten slammed with a huge snow storm, but where I was in Nebraska was blue skies. Anyway, sitting out there at the previously mentioned busy gas station maybe one car came through in an hour. No one was coming and going, the skies were grey, threatening, and cold, and I was starting to wonder if I was getting greedy for miles again. Perhaps this was a time to just relax again, enjoy the rest with Don, and keep on with him until it does feel right to get out. After all, this whole trip was supposed to be about following your gut, right?
An hour after sitting there with nothing but cold and desolation in the lot a lady who worked for the place came around collecting trash. She looked at me huddled up by a pillar with my bag and asked me why I wasn't inside watching the movie with the drivers. It struck a chord with me and I looked back at her and said that sounded like a good idea. So I went back in.
Don was watching TV upstairs in the lounge and I nudged his shoulder letting him know I was back and interested in staying on with him. He was happy about it and we watched TV for a bit before heading across the street to Walmart for a new phone for him. While there I picked up a new journal to write in and he wouldn't let me pay for it. In fact, the rest of the time I traveled with him he wouldn't let me pay for anything.
When we got back to the Pilot we watched Blades of Glory in the lounge then retired to the truck for the night. He let me use his laptop to check my email and I ended up on it until he needed to wake up and get moving around 2am. That put a strange twist on the next day, because when he got up to drive I passed out after a little while and didn't get up until we were past St. Louis.
The deal from the get go had been that he'd either bring me to St. Louis or I'd hang on until he made his drop where he suspected he'd be going to Arkansas after that, and hopefully Texas. In which case he said he'd drop me off in Memphis. I know that seems like some strange geography since I'm heading to the Northeast, but my theory was that Memphis was better than St. Louis because the South is easy to hitch and I could likely fly through to Virginia. Illinois, Indiana, and Ohio looked like more barriers to me. So when I passed out he asked if I wanted out in St. Louis and I told him I'd hang on past the drop.
I woke up as we were just heading south away from St. Louis. As we headed down I started working out my plans again as to where I should get out. I was eyeballing a place called Sikeston, MO which was right by the bridge to Kentucky and right on Don's way. I figured I could sit with him through the load to see where he's going next, although it seemed entirely likely he'd be heading west and he was going through Sikeston to get there, then I'd have him drop me there and I'd try flying through Kentucky, West Virginia, Pennsylvania, to New York and Mass. They all seemed like easy hitch states.
We hit the drop, and I tucked away in the back of the cab since I wasn't supposed to be there anyway. When he got back in he was chuckling. While winding our way out of that little town to get back on the main road he told me I was going to love his new load. We were off to Binghamton, NY and it needed to be in Friday morning.
Now Don had spent a lot of time telling me he hated the Northeast. Not just because he was a Texan, in fact I think that had little to do with it, but more as a trucker because no loads come out of there. According to him, if you head to the northeast you're probably deadheading out (riding empty) for a few hundred miles, which is costly in gas and time, before you get to another pay load. He took the job because the pay was nice enough to make up for that.
It was later that night, when we parked at a stop near Herculaneum, MO that Don completely whigged out my brain. Somehow Don got into saying that he really didn't like Malls. I couldn't agree more with him, but his reasoning was different than mine. He claimed he could read people and that when he went to crowded places like that it was hard for him because images of what was going on in everyone elses life around him would crowd in his brain.
Of course you can't have a conversation like this and not ask "well, what do you read off of me?", whether you believe him or not. He didn't want to tell me, but when I egged him on he said that, for one thing, I wasn't going to be going to South America when I thought. In fact, he said it wouldn't be for a few more years, his guess was 5 or 6. There were two reasons why, and they both had very short time frames. I've decided, however, that I don't want to write them up right now, because one was really good and one was really bad and I'd rather not put the notion out there in the air which could encourage the manifestation of the negative one.
The main point was that they were very direct, inambigious predictions coming out of nowhere talking about life changing events in my personal life within the next few months. The fact that one of them had a hard end date as to whether or not the prediction would come true or not was good for me, since I try to slump these things off with a grain of salt but in the end I can't help thinking about them. This way, when that time passes and nothing at all happens then I'll know the rest is bullshit.
What I found strange though, was that after he told me this stuff the conversation then changed to something else. About ten minutes later, as part of the new conversation, I made a reference to his ominous predictions. He didn't get it at all. Only ten minutes later he had completely forgotten about what he'd just said to me. When I reminded him, he told me that usually happened. Once he said what ever it was, and the message had been delivered, it completely left his brain. In his words, there was no reason to retain it. He promptly went to bed after that.
The next day was just a drift day. We blew through the midwest and by nightfall were camped out at a truckstop in Pennsylvania about an hour from Binghamton. Everything seemed said and done by then and it would soon be time to get out.
10/26- Sleeping On Either Side of Kansas
The night wore on in an absolutely freezing way. I must have slept at some point in there, but I couldn't even guess for how long and definitely wouldn't even be sure that I did. By 4:30am I decided I had at least laid down long enough and it was time to get up again. I was bored mostly, and wanted to get walking again to warm up. Feeling around for the zippers at the mouth of the bivy I felt ice from the condensation that had frozen over there. When I did poke my head out the bivy and my bag were completely covered in ice. On top of that, my foot, the entire night was itching like crazy. I had decided that I was either wearing my socks for too long of a stretch, or I'd gotten into some poison ivy back in Willits, CA.
Through a long, painstaking process I pulled myself out of the bivy and got myself dressed and packed. I stuffed the bivy in with the frost still on it having no idea what else to do about it other than sit still for the sun to come up and warm it off. Once I did get walking, though, it was quite beautiful. I figured out that I think I was walking into the sunrise right around where I'd walked into the sunset and made camp the first night I saw the glow of Denver six years ago and got all excited about it.
I walked for another good ten miles or so that morning as the sun slowly rose over the empty road. Around 9am, I took a break for a little while and thought about making some oatmeal until I discovered the water in my camel back still needed to thaw. Not long after that I was walking over a hill and a work truck blew past me, then clearly had a change of heart and suddenly slammed on the breaks. I ran for it, hoping he wouldn't change his mind again.
Steve was feeling a bit grumpy that morning, as he'd thought he was going to have the day off until about 6:30am. He was near Denver then and found out he needed to be in Holdrege, Nebraska by 7am. It was now 9-ish and had another 5 hours to go to get there and he could care less when he got there. He later told me he thought about blowing by me, but when he did he thought about how long and desolate that road is and couldn't imagine stranding anyone on it. The theory works, though I do feel a little guilty that I'm preying on pity.
Steve and I had good on and off conversation most of the way. Mostly he grumbled about work and such things. We'd stop for coffee along the way, and by 3pm or so he pulled into Holdrege and let me out at the center of town. I made my way to the library from there to figure out were to go next, but all the computers were used up. It was a cute little town, but by 4pm I was making my way out of it only to be picked up by two college kids.
Andrew and Jaime were tooling around running errands and had seen me taking a picture of the town sign for Funk, NE up ahead. They got a kick out of that and on their way out again picked me up for a ride into Kearney, about 20 miles off. As we rode there we got to talking about things and Andrew got all wrapped up into talking about these cars he rebuilds. Jaime had decided that there were better spots to drop me off at than the ramps and truck stops they were going to be near, so she said if I was fine with going with them on their errands they'd take me to a gas station on the east side of town right by I-80 seven miles east of there. Sounded good.
Once we'd done their chores picking up car parts they kept to their word and drove me down the highway to exit 279 leaving me at a Shell station there. I waved goodbye to them, but on the way set my sights on a billboard I'd seen for a Pilot station at exit 300. I waited for them to leave then walked up the road a bit toward US-30 which I knew wasn't too far off figuring I could hopefully hitch a ride from there to the truck stop. It was three miles off.
An hour later, with no luck thumbing it, I finally got onto 30 just as the sun was nearing the horizon behind me. It was a busy road, but it suddenly seemed like one of those roads that are so busy nobody stops on them. Again, there was a freight train to my right which I kept eyeballing, thinking now I would definitely hop it if it wasn't going so damned fast on that track. I walked another hour or so as the sun set and began seriously considering places to drop down for the night.
I was starting to see my idea as futile and was eyeballing the dead cornfield across the street as a perfect refuge from the wind as well as a hiding spot. Along the ground by the tracks were inch thick broken up boards of styrofoam that would be perfect for bedrolls for the night. Things were lining up to stop there and make camp. I didn't want to make the same mistake as I had the night before of passing up a perfect set up only to walk a mile more and end up freezing again. The difference this time, though, was that for whatever reason it just didn't feel right to stop there.
At this point I had physically stopped walking and was looking at all these options. Behind me, to the west, down the road the sun was well sunk in the ground now and still no one was stopping, to my right were the boards of styrofoam, to my left was the corn fields to tuck into, and straight ahead of me was a sign for Gibbon and I was getting a strong feeling that I should keep going at least to Gibbon for the night. I decided to go with the gut and walked about ten feet before a car pulled over.
Hector was right at his turn to go left and be home. I really don't know why he stopped for me, but he did, and when I told him I was trying to get to the truckstop twenty miles up he told me he'd take me the whole way. Weird. As we drove I found out his brother was also waiting for him to get home so he could use Hector's cell phone to call his girlfriend, and Hector figured he could wait. Again, weird that he'd pick me up and go 20 miles out and 20 miles back out of his way to drop me at a truck stop.
The other strange part was that when we got close to the town of Wood River he told me he was going to take a backway he knew to get there because he didn't want to go through that town. Apparently his ex-girlfriend of ten years ago who he was still in love with lived there and he didn't want to see her. Down that back road we saw one other car and he told me it was hers.
When he dropped me off at the Pilot I went inside to use the bathroom. I came out from that, looked around the store for a minute, then sat down at a table figuring I'd charge up my cellphone there while leaving my bag in a good place to advertise that I'm looking for a ride. I barely touched the seat before a trucker came over and started talking to me. This was Don.
Literally within minutes of arriving at this truck stop, through already interesting circumstances, I think, I had caught what would turn out to be the longest ride to date. Don was just tired and wanted some company on the road. He told me he was going to a place just south of St. Louis and I was welcome to ride for as long as I wanted. I jumped at it, and that night spent the night at a truck stop in St. Joes, MO.
I had to laugh when we parked there later that night because when I'd set off going down US-36 in Colorado I thought it'd be neat that I'd get to add Kansas to my little list of states I'd hit on this trip. I'd really enjoyed walking through the state back in '03 and was looking forward to traveling through it again. The route Steve took to get to Nebraska took us within 10 miles of the western Kansas border, where Don and I slept that night was about 3 miles east of it.
Through a long, painstaking process I pulled myself out of the bivy and got myself dressed and packed. I stuffed the bivy in with the frost still on it having no idea what else to do about it other than sit still for the sun to come up and warm it off. Once I did get walking, though, it was quite beautiful. I figured out that I think I was walking into the sunrise right around where I'd walked into the sunset and made camp the first night I saw the glow of Denver six years ago and got all excited about it.
I walked for another good ten miles or so that morning as the sun slowly rose over the empty road. Around 9am, I took a break for a little while and thought about making some oatmeal until I discovered the water in my camel back still needed to thaw. Not long after that I was walking over a hill and a work truck blew past me, then clearly had a change of heart and suddenly slammed on the breaks. I ran for it, hoping he wouldn't change his mind again.
Steve was feeling a bit grumpy that morning, as he'd thought he was going to have the day off until about 6:30am. He was near Denver then and found out he needed to be in Holdrege, Nebraska by 7am. It was now 9-ish and had another 5 hours to go to get there and he could care less when he got there. He later told me he thought about blowing by me, but when he did he thought about how long and desolate that road is and couldn't imagine stranding anyone on it. The theory works, though I do feel a little guilty that I'm preying on pity.
Steve and I had good on and off conversation most of the way. Mostly he grumbled about work and such things. We'd stop for coffee along the way, and by 3pm or so he pulled into Holdrege and let me out at the center of town. I made my way to the library from there to figure out were to go next, but all the computers were used up. It was a cute little town, but by 4pm I was making my way out of it only to be picked up by two college kids.
Andrew and Jaime were tooling around running errands and had seen me taking a picture of the town sign for Funk, NE up ahead. They got a kick out of that and on their way out again picked me up for a ride into Kearney, about 20 miles off. As we rode there we got to talking about things and Andrew got all wrapped up into talking about these cars he rebuilds. Jaime had decided that there were better spots to drop me off at than the ramps and truck stops they were going to be near, so she said if I was fine with going with them on their errands they'd take me to a gas station on the east side of town right by I-80 seven miles east of there. Sounded good.
Once we'd done their chores picking up car parts they kept to their word and drove me down the highway to exit 279 leaving me at a Shell station there. I waved goodbye to them, but on the way set my sights on a billboard I'd seen for a Pilot station at exit 300. I waited for them to leave then walked up the road a bit toward US-30 which I knew wasn't too far off figuring I could hopefully hitch a ride from there to the truck stop. It was three miles off.
An hour later, with no luck thumbing it, I finally got onto 30 just as the sun was nearing the horizon behind me. It was a busy road, but it suddenly seemed like one of those roads that are so busy nobody stops on them. Again, there was a freight train to my right which I kept eyeballing, thinking now I would definitely hop it if it wasn't going so damned fast on that track. I walked another hour or so as the sun set and began seriously considering places to drop down for the night.
I was starting to see my idea as futile and was eyeballing the dead cornfield across the street as a perfect refuge from the wind as well as a hiding spot. Along the ground by the tracks were inch thick broken up boards of styrofoam that would be perfect for bedrolls for the night. Things were lining up to stop there and make camp. I didn't want to make the same mistake as I had the night before of passing up a perfect set up only to walk a mile more and end up freezing again. The difference this time, though, was that for whatever reason it just didn't feel right to stop there.
At this point I had physically stopped walking and was looking at all these options. Behind me, to the west, down the road the sun was well sunk in the ground now and still no one was stopping, to my right were the boards of styrofoam, to my left was the corn fields to tuck into, and straight ahead of me was a sign for Gibbon and I was getting a strong feeling that I should keep going at least to Gibbon for the night. I decided to go with the gut and walked about ten feet before a car pulled over.
Hector was right at his turn to go left and be home. I really don't know why he stopped for me, but he did, and when I told him I was trying to get to the truckstop twenty miles up he told me he'd take me the whole way. Weird. As we drove I found out his brother was also waiting for him to get home so he could use Hector's cell phone to call his girlfriend, and Hector figured he could wait. Again, weird that he'd pick me up and go 20 miles out and 20 miles back out of his way to drop me at a truck stop.
The other strange part was that when we got close to the town of Wood River he told me he was going to take a backway he knew to get there because he didn't want to go through that town. Apparently his ex-girlfriend of ten years ago who he was still in love with lived there and he didn't want to see her. Down that back road we saw one other car and he told me it was hers.
When he dropped me off at the Pilot I went inside to use the bathroom. I came out from that, looked around the store for a minute, then sat down at a table figuring I'd charge up my cellphone there while leaving my bag in a good place to advertise that I'm looking for a ride. I barely touched the seat before a trucker came over and started talking to me. This was Don.
Literally within minutes of arriving at this truck stop, through already interesting circumstances, I think, I had caught what would turn out to be the longest ride to date. Don was just tired and wanted some company on the road. He told me he was going to a place just south of St. Louis and I was welcome to ride for as long as I wanted. I jumped at it, and that night spent the night at a truck stop in St. Joes, MO.
I had to laugh when we parked there later that night because when I'd set off going down US-36 in Colorado I thought it'd be neat that I'd get to add Kansas to my little list of states I'd hit on this trip. I'd really enjoyed walking through the state back in '03 and was looking forward to traveling through it again. The route Steve took to get to Nebraska took us within 10 miles of the western Kansas border, where Don and I slept that night was about 3 miles east of it.
10/25- The Eastern Walk Out
The morning was a typical one for Ang and I and our history of goodbyes. She's not one for them and niether am I, but I also don't like just leaving when I know she's up. I had woken up and packed a bit then for whatever reason missed her getting up and going into the bathroom for her readying routine. I lingered about a while straightening things up until she came out so I could give her an official see ya later. When she was ready we walked out together with Wookie and did our usual cool, calm, and collected see ya.
From there I hopped the 15 bus down Colfax and rode it to the end of the line. I started in on making my calls along the way since I'd shifted phone day to Sunday that weekend. I talked to Victor who had finally left Vegas to Oklahoma City, but his truck had broken down again there and was stuck again. His thoughts, though, were that he might be heading to Michigan next if I could catch up with him. When I got off the bus, just past I-225, I talked to Todd a while as I started into walking the reverse route down US-36 that I'd walked west on six years earlier coming into Denver.
Todd and I finished chatting just as US-36 was connecting with I-70. It was also starting to snow and the roads were looking fairly barren. I walked a good ten miles in the snow before I was picked up. That ride drove me to Bennett and dropped me off with some really good cookies. He had been a hitcher when he was younger as well.
I walked maybe half a mile before a pick up swung around pulling a U-turn to pick me up. These rides always impress me, because clearly you're going in the other direction so it always makes me wonder why you'd turn around to give a ride in the direction they just came from. This guy, apparently, was just driving around. As he drove me on to Byers asking about my trip he stopped at one point to blow into a breathalyzer to keep the car running. Apparently he'd been caught driving just barely over the limit five years ago and had to keep that installed in his car for another three years past when I met him. We had an interesting chat about that, but I agree with him that it was a bit excessive, especially since he was three years sober now.
He dropped me off in the parking lot of the last anything I knew of down that road. It was a grocery store, and I debated picking up more oatmeal, but then figured I was fine for at least a few more days. The snow was still coming down then as I walked out of the lot stepping down what I knew to be 31 miles of absolutely nothing. I was counting on my theory that I'd be more likely to get some good rides walking down a long desolate road in cold, shitty weather. About ten paces in the theory proved correct.
Almost immediately a guy in a work truck pulled over, while sipping his beer, and picked me up. The look on his face as he pulled over told me it was the snow and the audacity of walking out into it was why. He gave me a lift about ten miles in then dropped me off to turn north to his house. I was committed now, there was no going back and only forward to walk. I was actually looking forward to it quite a bit.
As I walked the next few miles or so I called my Aunt Hea to see how she was doing. We had a good long chat as the snow came down only to be interupted toward the end of the day with another quick hop ride. Lisa, Chris, and Jose pulled over to drive me another six or seven miles up to where they lived in an old hotel. Here was where another theory of mine developed learned by having not learned the lesson of the time.
When we got to their place Lisa was really concerned about me walking off down the road in the cold, emphatically warning me that there's nothing down that way. I was well aware of this having walked it before coming the other way which is why I think I didn't weigh it in as much when she asked me to stay for dinner. Knowing how things generally go dinner usually becomes a place to stay, even if its camping out on their lawn. It was a similar situation to when Russ dropped me off on the beach back in Oregon since it was about an hour to sunset and here a place was quite possibly showing up for me. I, however, was greedy for miles and figured I could probably pick up one more long ride before sun down and hopefully make it to Kansas that night. I would forever kick myself for that decision.
I turned Lisa down, thanked them for the ride, and wandered off down the road with the nagging feeling of thinking I should go back and take them up on it after all. That feeling persisted until I couldn't see the place any more. Three miles passed before the sun was low enough that it wasn't worth walking any more and I should bed down for the night. It was the coldest night of my life.
I don't actually know if I slept at all that night or not. I didn't have any bedroll supplement, like the cardboard from truck stops, and using the clothes in that way was somewhat helpful, but if I moved at all I felt the cold again. Long story short, it was a long, long night.
From there I hopped the 15 bus down Colfax and rode it to the end of the line. I started in on making my calls along the way since I'd shifted phone day to Sunday that weekend. I talked to Victor who had finally left Vegas to Oklahoma City, but his truck had broken down again there and was stuck again. His thoughts, though, were that he might be heading to Michigan next if I could catch up with him. When I got off the bus, just past I-225, I talked to Todd a while as I started into walking the reverse route down US-36 that I'd walked west on six years earlier coming into Denver.
Todd and I finished chatting just as US-36 was connecting with I-70. It was also starting to snow and the roads were looking fairly barren. I walked a good ten miles in the snow before I was picked up. That ride drove me to Bennett and dropped me off with some really good cookies. He had been a hitcher when he was younger as well.
I walked maybe half a mile before a pick up swung around pulling a U-turn to pick me up. These rides always impress me, because clearly you're going in the other direction so it always makes me wonder why you'd turn around to give a ride in the direction they just came from. This guy, apparently, was just driving around. As he drove me on to Byers asking about my trip he stopped at one point to blow into a breathalyzer to keep the car running. Apparently he'd been caught driving just barely over the limit five years ago and had to keep that installed in his car for another three years past when I met him. We had an interesting chat about that, but I agree with him that it was a bit excessive, especially since he was three years sober now.
He dropped me off in the parking lot of the last anything I knew of down that road. It was a grocery store, and I debated picking up more oatmeal, but then figured I was fine for at least a few more days. The snow was still coming down then as I walked out of the lot stepping down what I knew to be 31 miles of absolutely nothing. I was counting on my theory that I'd be more likely to get some good rides walking down a long desolate road in cold, shitty weather. About ten paces in the theory proved correct.
Almost immediately a guy in a work truck pulled over, while sipping his beer, and picked me up. The look on his face as he pulled over told me it was the snow and the audacity of walking out into it was why. He gave me a lift about ten miles in then dropped me off to turn north to his house. I was committed now, there was no going back and only forward to walk. I was actually looking forward to it quite a bit.
As I walked the next few miles or so I called my Aunt Hea to see how she was doing. We had a good long chat as the snow came down only to be interupted toward the end of the day with another quick hop ride. Lisa, Chris, and Jose pulled over to drive me another six or seven miles up to where they lived in an old hotel. Here was where another theory of mine developed learned by having not learned the lesson of the time.
When we got to their place Lisa was really concerned about me walking off down the road in the cold, emphatically warning me that there's nothing down that way. I was well aware of this having walked it before coming the other way which is why I think I didn't weigh it in as much when she asked me to stay for dinner. Knowing how things generally go dinner usually becomes a place to stay, even if its camping out on their lawn. It was a similar situation to when Russ dropped me off on the beach back in Oregon since it was about an hour to sunset and here a place was quite possibly showing up for me. I, however, was greedy for miles and figured I could probably pick up one more long ride before sun down and hopefully make it to Kansas that night. I would forever kick myself for that decision.
I turned Lisa down, thanked them for the ride, and wandered off down the road with the nagging feeling of thinking I should go back and take them up on it after all. That feeling persisted until I couldn't see the place any more. Three miles passed before the sun was low enough that it wasn't worth walking any more and I should bed down for the night. It was the coldest night of my life.
I don't actually know if I slept at all that night or not. I didn't have any bedroll supplement, like the cardboard from truck stops, and using the clothes in that way was somewhat helpful, but if I moved at all I felt the cold again. Long story short, it was a long, long night.
10/24- Zombie Crawl in Denver
It was quite nice waking up back on my couch again since the morning before had been frost-ridden. Ang and I had arranged to hang for the day since Loreli had things she needed to get down in the early part of the day. Later in the evening, however, she invited me to a Zombie Crawl that was going on downtown in Denver. Izzy would be back from her Dad's by then so it'd also be a great way so see her as well.
Being that it was Saturday it normally would have been a phone day, but I decided to shift it to Sunday and focus my visiting energy on just hanging out with Denver chums. It had also been a debate as to how long I was going to stay. At first, with the rush to Halloween growing on my head, I figured I should leave by either noon or one, evening at the latest. Waking up that morning I decided to relax, go with the "don't rush" mojo I've been feeling, and stay the full day leaving Sunday morning.
Normally Ang works on Saturdays, and for whatever reason she had this one off. When she found out she had this Saturday off she specifically had decided not to plan to do anything that day and to just enjoy it. Now with me suddenly appearing out of nowhere for the day it worked out perfectly to hang out that day. I text her I'd meet her at Dazbog, then made my way over there for a coffee and a visit with the folks there.
After a bit of a visit with Vince, Nick, Mike, and Boobs as well as some of the regulars passing through Ang showed up and we spent the day touring around Capital Hill. We stopped for another coffee at Pablos where I ran into Angie, my ex from the walking days, and got a brief visit with her. Then popped in at Kilgore Books where my friend Luke was working for a quick visit with him. We hit a few other places as well, then meandered our way down town, all the while catching up on each other's gossip.
As we neared the theatre downtown we got to talking about how we both wanted to see Where the Wild Things Are. I had just seen a preview for it at a truck stop, and she'd had plans to see it with some friends on Thursday but was held up for some reason and they went to see it with out her. She even said, normally she'd be pretty pissy about being ditched like that, but she uncharacteristically wasn't bothered and had thought then "I'd really like to see that with Chris". We decided to get midnight movie tickets as a last hurrah before I shoved off in the morning.
We found ourselves down at Tattered Cover later in the day where I picked up the English version of the Paulo Coelho book I've been barely trying to read in Spanish. From there she treated me to lunch at Illegal Petes. By the time we were done it was time to meet up with Loreli for the Zombie Crawl.
Being downtown already we had seen a few done up zombies here and there, but nothing that would really suggest a gathering of them anywhere near by. We met up with Loreli and a self-zombiefied Izzy a block over from where we ate and soon discovered the cluster gathering under the Lorimer Clock Tower. It was amazing.
There were zombie wedding couples, Tim Burton zombie doll girls, a zombie Jesus, zombie robot, zombie aliens, and even a zombie baby nursing on the spine of a severed head (pictures in the folder). As the sun waned zombie hunters also started to appear. Guys and girls in gas masks with oodles of rifles, a Storm Trooper, and more faceless armed V for Vendetta styled troops.
Loreli's friend Faith was the one who had invited her and spawned the whole of us gathering there in general, and one of her two kids was Izzy's age, both of whom started attacking me immediately on our arrival. Faith's older daughter was a bit more reserved and stuck to her mother, but the young one was a bit ferocious. She actually bit me, and continued wrestling me with Izzy for a good half hour before I figured out a way to bow out.
I also ran into my friend Tym from the earlier days of D&D gaming in Denver. He was there on his own so we hung out some for a bit and caught up. As the sun got closer to the ground the party ramped up little by little. Crazier and more out landish zombies started showing up. Faith's friend, Josh, was a pedicabber and had a make up kit in his pedicab so he did me up as a zombie as well.
Ang spotted some friends after a bit and meandered over there, Faith ran after her kids somewhere, and Izzy wanted to play on the blocks near by so Loreli and I took her over there. Somewhere in all the confusion of us wandering off every where the rest of the 1,000 people gathering broke itself up as well and Ang and I were soon texting back and forth wondering where the other was. In a moment's time the green that was littered with zombies was barren and strewn with trash. The sun was setting.
Loreli went off with Izzy and I managed to find Ang. The zombies had now all gathered in the middle of the 16th St. Mall. Dusk was creating an ominous coloring through the buildings and then suddenly everyone started running down the Mall. It was pandimonium. I have never been in such a fun, realistic depiction of what zombies taking over the world would be like than that evening.
Ang and I decided to head home, but as we walked back down the Mall zombie kids were banging their hands against the Mall bus that brings tourists up and down, scampering past us, running at top speed, and soldiered outfits in hot persuit of them. Back down by the clock tower you could hear loud moans, screams, and screeches unlike what normal loud crowd noises are like. I started taking video and one guy passing me told me I should put that away because they're jumping anyone with cameras.
Eventually we got to the end of the Mall, still hearing the chaos down the road. We agreed to meet back at her place around 11pm because I was going home to do laundry, swap some things out from my stuff at Loreli's, and just repack in general. Most of this I did get done in a timely fashion before Loreli returned home with Izzy and her best friend Jade who I knew from the summer at Julie's.
Izzy and Jade had decided they were dogs for the night, dalmations to be precise, and I think I was their Dad. I seem to always end up being their Dad oddly. I have to admit I got really caught up in playing with them, rolling them up in a big blanket and carrying them around the house like a sack of potatoes. I'm a sucker for fun with kids. The four of us also played a game of hide-and-go-seek until Brandon got home. Then I began the putting them to bed routine by reading them a story. It was about 10pm when all was said and done and I still needed to get some things done.
Loreli was also having a hard night and I felt like a real dick trying to listen intently to what she needed to talk about while rushing to get everything in order to meet up with Ang for the movie by 11. In the end it was futile and I was darting out the door apologizing for not being able to be a better listener at the time. I was then texting Ang that I was running late and that maybe we should just meet at the theatre. I caught a bus, and in the end, it all worked out.
Ang and I met up about fifteen minutes before the show started and got good seats in a sparsely filled theatre. The movie was completely amazing. It turned out to be a perfect way to wrap up my day reprieve in Denver. Afterward Ang and I walked back to her house where I stayed the night.
Being that it was Saturday it normally would have been a phone day, but I decided to shift it to Sunday and focus my visiting energy on just hanging out with Denver chums. It had also been a debate as to how long I was going to stay. At first, with the rush to Halloween growing on my head, I figured I should leave by either noon or one, evening at the latest. Waking up that morning I decided to relax, go with the "don't rush" mojo I've been feeling, and stay the full day leaving Sunday morning.
Normally Ang works on Saturdays, and for whatever reason she had this one off. When she found out she had this Saturday off she specifically had decided not to plan to do anything that day and to just enjoy it. Now with me suddenly appearing out of nowhere for the day it worked out perfectly to hang out that day. I text her I'd meet her at Dazbog, then made my way over there for a coffee and a visit with the folks there.
After a bit of a visit with Vince, Nick, Mike, and Boobs as well as some of the regulars passing through Ang showed up and we spent the day touring around Capital Hill. We stopped for another coffee at Pablos where I ran into Angie, my ex from the walking days, and got a brief visit with her. Then popped in at Kilgore Books where my friend Luke was working for a quick visit with him. We hit a few other places as well, then meandered our way down town, all the while catching up on each other's gossip.
As we neared the theatre downtown we got to talking about how we both wanted to see Where the Wild Things Are. I had just seen a preview for it at a truck stop, and she'd had plans to see it with some friends on Thursday but was held up for some reason and they went to see it with out her. She even said, normally she'd be pretty pissy about being ditched like that, but she uncharacteristically wasn't bothered and had thought then "I'd really like to see that with Chris". We decided to get midnight movie tickets as a last hurrah before I shoved off in the morning.
We found ourselves down at Tattered Cover later in the day where I picked up the English version of the Paulo Coelho book I've been barely trying to read in Spanish. From there she treated me to lunch at Illegal Petes. By the time we were done it was time to meet up with Loreli for the Zombie Crawl.
Being downtown already we had seen a few done up zombies here and there, but nothing that would really suggest a gathering of them anywhere near by. We met up with Loreli and a self-zombiefied Izzy a block over from where we ate and soon discovered the cluster gathering under the Lorimer Clock Tower. It was amazing.
There were zombie wedding couples, Tim Burton zombie doll girls, a zombie Jesus, zombie robot, zombie aliens, and even a zombie baby nursing on the spine of a severed head (pictures in the folder). As the sun waned zombie hunters also started to appear. Guys and girls in gas masks with oodles of rifles, a Storm Trooper, and more faceless armed V for Vendetta styled troops.
Loreli's friend Faith was the one who had invited her and spawned the whole of us gathering there in general, and one of her two kids was Izzy's age, both of whom started attacking me immediately on our arrival. Faith's older daughter was a bit more reserved and stuck to her mother, but the young one was a bit ferocious. She actually bit me, and continued wrestling me with Izzy for a good half hour before I figured out a way to bow out.
I also ran into my friend Tym from the earlier days of D&D gaming in Denver. He was there on his own so we hung out some for a bit and caught up. As the sun got closer to the ground the party ramped up little by little. Crazier and more out landish zombies started showing up. Faith's friend, Josh, was a pedicabber and had a make up kit in his pedicab so he did me up as a zombie as well.
Ang spotted some friends after a bit and meandered over there, Faith ran after her kids somewhere, and Izzy wanted to play on the blocks near by so Loreli and I took her over there. Somewhere in all the confusion of us wandering off every where the rest of the 1,000 people gathering broke itself up as well and Ang and I were soon texting back and forth wondering where the other was. In a moment's time the green that was littered with zombies was barren and strewn with trash. The sun was setting.
Loreli went off with Izzy and I managed to find Ang. The zombies had now all gathered in the middle of the 16th St. Mall. Dusk was creating an ominous coloring through the buildings and then suddenly everyone started running down the Mall. It was pandimonium. I have never been in such a fun, realistic depiction of what zombies taking over the world would be like than that evening.
Ang and I decided to head home, but as we walked back down the Mall zombie kids were banging their hands against the Mall bus that brings tourists up and down, scampering past us, running at top speed, and soldiered outfits in hot persuit of them. Back down by the clock tower you could hear loud moans, screams, and screeches unlike what normal loud crowd noises are like. I started taking video and one guy passing me told me I should put that away because they're jumping anyone with cameras.
Eventually we got to the end of the Mall, still hearing the chaos down the road. We agreed to meet back at her place around 11pm because I was going home to do laundry, swap some things out from my stuff at Loreli's, and just repack in general. Most of this I did get done in a timely fashion before Loreli returned home with Izzy and her best friend Jade who I knew from the summer at Julie's.
Izzy and Jade had decided they were dogs for the night, dalmations to be precise, and I think I was their Dad. I seem to always end up being their Dad oddly. I have to admit I got really caught up in playing with them, rolling them up in a big blanket and carrying them around the house like a sack of potatoes. I'm a sucker for fun with kids. The four of us also played a game of hide-and-go-seek until Brandon got home. Then I began the putting them to bed routine by reading them a story. It was about 10pm when all was said and done and I still needed to get some things done.
Loreli was also having a hard night and I felt like a real dick trying to listen intently to what she needed to talk about while rushing to get everything in order to meet up with Ang for the movie by 11. In the end it was futile and I was darting out the door apologizing for not being able to be a better listener at the time. I was then texting Ang that I was running late and that maybe we should just meet at the theatre. I caught a bus, and in the end, it all worked out.
Ang and I met up about fifteen minutes before the show started and got good seats in a sparsely filled theatre. The movie was completely amazing. It turned out to be a perfect way to wrap up my day reprieve in Denver. Afterward Ang and I walked back to her house where I stayed the night.
10/23- Wyoming
I got a pretty decent nights sleep and was fully appreciative of my new method of grabbing cardboard boxes from dumpsters on my way to finding a place to bed down when I peeked my head out of the bivy to find frost on my bag. Inside I was still quite toasty. Seeing that frost, and feeling the morning air made getting out of the bivy a little bit of a chore, but eventually I did it. I put my boots on immediately to start warming them up for the day since they were absolutely freezing.
As I proceeded to pack everything up I kept thinking I should make myself breakfast for the day ahead. Its something I have a habit of forgetting to do, then suddenly I find myself feeling really weak and hungry. Very strange phenomenon, but I think I'm narrowing down its cause. Soon enough I was back down at the J and setting up shop with a coffee a picnic table between the truckers gas station and the door to the store.
I had finally busted out all the stops on my cold weather gear and was wearing everything. My long johns and thermal undershirt that I'd picked up at Penney's, my walking t-shirt, hoodie, rain parka, and winter jacket along with my jeans and rain pants over my long johns. I also donned my hat with the hoodie up under it and my winter gloves on. It was cold outside, but I was actually a little bit hot after all that.
I roamed around that general area for a couple hours just enjoying the morning. I had woken up around 9am again and was not feeling any rush, or at least, no immediate rush for that morning. In general, I was both a little bit nervous about my timing and my cash since Salt Lake had taken quite a bit of both from me with the two day wait and bus fare. With that lingering around in the back of my mind, I was doing quite well not feeling rushed at all for the present moment and quite proud of myself for being able to trust that everything would work out one way or another. In my mind, this was all apart of a series of lessons.
After a while I went off to have my breakfast away from the Flying J. I felt it was rude enough for me to be lingering around with only a coffee purchase for so long, so I may as well not cook up my oatmeal like a true hobo in front of their 24 hour diner. It was nice sitting off on my own for a bit anyway. There was no chance of thinking about hitching, so it felt like a lunch break to fully just enjoy my meal.
When I returned and washed everything up in the rest room I sat back outside for a bit. A guy had taken notice of me when he went in the store but didn't say anything that I recall. I sat there a bit longer then decided to get another coffee. When I went in he was walking out and asked if I'd gotten a ride yet. I told him no and he waved me on to go with him.
Peter was a really interesting guy on his own, as well as an interesting study in how people react to me. When I first got in the car and we headed off down the highway we got to talking about me hitching. I'm pretty sure he offered the ride because he thought I was down on my luck and stranded. When he found out I was hitching by choice he seemed to lose respect for me as one of Todd's trust fund travelers. I've had this reaction before and pretty much ignored it.
Once it seemed as though that was his image of me he told me he was sorry he was going to bore me to death and hit play on the tape he was listening to. It couldn't have been a more perfect selection as the audio documentary of Andrew Jackson continued on from where he'd just left off. It was even right at my favorite part of his presidential career of when Jackson takes on the Central Bank through his second term. This opened many doors for Peter and I to talk about.
Normally I'm not one to talk through a tape, movie, TV show, etc., but Peter opened the door with a comment and I ran with it. I started unloading everything I learned about how The Fed works, how Jackson's fight to remove the Central Bank was the biggest achievement on his watch, and all of my theories on what's going on with this down turned crap economy now. Much to my surprise I sounded like I knew quite a bit, and Peter was quite impressed as well. Suddenly the lost respect for me he had when I got in flipped 180 and doubled. He was soon asking me what I thought of the administration, government in general, how did I know so much about banking and the monetary system. All I could say was that I saw a really good documentary and recommended it to him. Money Lenders, or Money Changers, I believe it was called. Another good for content, bad by production, film is Freedom vs. Facism talking about how income tax is completely unconstitutional and illegal.
This took about half an hour for us to start getting into these conversations, and soon we were having really lively, intense conversations while pausing and playing the Jackson tape to really figure out what the world is doing now. It was a really great ride all the way to Laramie, and when he dropped me off at the library there you could tell neither of us were really ready to part ways. Alas, I thanked him again for the ride and he went off to his lecture.
An hour later I was heading into downtown Laramie a few blocks away where 287 crosses through town. The whole way walking there I kept running a debate in my head of whether or not to head south down 287 where I'd likely pick up a ride in no time toward the Front Range sprawl and hopefully Denver, or do I head north back to an on ramp by I-80 and try to make some miles east. I had a week now to get half way across the country and was thinking any more slacking off would keep me from getting there in time.
At the same time I couldn't help but notice all the Colorado plates driving around up there as I turned north toward I-80. I also passed within 100 yards of a desperately slow moving freight train with all the right kinds of cars to jump on to heading south. I even walked toward it hesitantly before turning back. Starting over the bridge toward I-80 a kid picked me up for a short hop and dumped my right by the exit. That was it, I was hitching east.
It was about 4:30pm now and I stood right at the on ramp until sunset with my thumb out. No one. Stunning view though. I decided that once the sunset and I was little more than a creepy guy in a hat standing in the dark under a single street lamp by the on ramp in a state its illegal to hitch in that I'd head down to the truck stop and get some dinner. One lady had stopped, and again, in place of a ride she gave me $7. That $7 convinced myself that I should have a $17 dinner of an all you can eat steak buffet. You'd have done the same.
It was the best damn meal I to memory where I stuffed myself silly with three or four courses, bottomless coffee, and was sitting in the drivers section by invite chatting with all the truckers as an obvious hitcher. The waitress roaming around was completely adorable too, that didn't hurt. After a good hour or so I had eaten all I could and saw no promising leads that one of the truckers I was chatting with was even entertaining the idea of giving me a lift, so I paid my bill and left.
Once again, I did not think about drinking tons of coffee along side going to bed afterward. I decided to sit out and hitch a bit more in front of the truck stop, but it was completely dead. I crossed over the bridge back to the one on the other side and just felt creepy over there. Returning back to my original spot that I'd had in the day time I figured that I was just going up there to wait out the coffee buzz and feel productive in the meantime, but really didn't expect anyone to pick me up in the dark when nobody did in the daylight.
A half an hour later Juan pulled up next to me to my very great surprise. He told me he was heading to Greeley in just enough English for me to understand. Greeley is 50 minutes north of Denver so I hopped in and started sending out texts to Ang and Loreli.
Both were ecstatic, which of course made me feel really good. I asked Loreli if I could stay at her place if I could catch a ride from Loveland down I-25 to Denver that night and she responded with "don't be silly we're coming up to get you". I was beaming the rest of the hour ride down with Juan as we decided to work on each others linguistic skills. I spoke in my crap ass Spanish to him and he'd respond and correct me in his broken but relatively fluent English. When our brains hurt after a bit of that he turned to showing me transvestite joke gifs that his cousin texted him that day. Good times.
I bid him adieu at a gas station in Loveland right by the ramp to I-25 and he went off another ten minutes down the road to Greeley to his family. As I waited for Loreli and Brandon to drive up I started talking with the guy working the register there. He was a pretty cool guy in from Brooklyn who was another who'd been converted to being strictly a Colorado guy now. It was a good way to pass the time, and he was an interesting guy with good perspective and insights as well.
By about midnight they arrived and we were cruising back down the highway talking about the weirdness about me just suddenly popping back by again. It was odd for all of us, but no one was complaining. At that point I was up for a good dose of home before continuing on east.
As I proceeded to pack everything up I kept thinking I should make myself breakfast for the day ahead. Its something I have a habit of forgetting to do, then suddenly I find myself feeling really weak and hungry. Very strange phenomenon, but I think I'm narrowing down its cause. Soon enough I was back down at the J and setting up shop with a coffee a picnic table between the truckers gas station and the door to the store.
I had finally busted out all the stops on my cold weather gear and was wearing everything. My long johns and thermal undershirt that I'd picked up at Penney's, my walking t-shirt, hoodie, rain parka, and winter jacket along with my jeans and rain pants over my long johns. I also donned my hat with the hoodie up under it and my winter gloves on. It was cold outside, but I was actually a little bit hot after all that.
I roamed around that general area for a couple hours just enjoying the morning. I had woken up around 9am again and was not feeling any rush, or at least, no immediate rush for that morning. In general, I was both a little bit nervous about my timing and my cash since Salt Lake had taken quite a bit of both from me with the two day wait and bus fare. With that lingering around in the back of my mind, I was doing quite well not feeling rushed at all for the present moment and quite proud of myself for being able to trust that everything would work out one way or another. In my mind, this was all apart of a series of lessons.
After a while I went off to have my breakfast away from the Flying J. I felt it was rude enough for me to be lingering around with only a coffee purchase for so long, so I may as well not cook up my oatmeal like a true hobo in front of their 24 hour diner. It was nice sitting off on my own for a bit anyway. There was no chance of thinking about hitching, so it felt like a lunch break to fully just enjoy my meal.
When I returned and washed everything up in the rest room I sat back outside for a bit. A guy had taken notice of me when he went in the store but didn't say anything that I recall. I sat there a bit longer then decided to get another coffee. When I went in he was walking out and asked if I'd gotten a ride yet. I told him no and he waved me on to go with him.
Peter was a really interesting guy on his own, as well as an interesting study in how people react to me. When I first got in the car and we headed off down the highway we got to talking about me hitching. I'm pretty sure he offered the ride because he thought I was down on my luck and stranded. When he found out I was hitching by choice he seemed to lose respect for me as one of Todd's trust fund travelers. I've had this reaction before and pretty much ignored it.
Once it seemed as though that was his image of me he told me he was sorry he was going to bore me to death and hit play on the tape he was listening to. It couldn't have been a more perfect selection as the audio documentary of Andrew Jackson continued on from where he'd just left off. It was even right at my favorite part of his presidential career of when Jackson takes on the Central Bank through his second term. This opened many doors for Peter and I to talk about.
Normally I'm not one to talk through a tape, movie, TV show, etc., but Peter opened the door with a comment and I ran with it. I started unloading everything I learned about how The Fed works, how Jackson's fight to remove the Central Bank was the biggest achievement on his watch, and all of my theories on what's going on with this down turned crap economy now. Much to my surprise I sounded like I knew quite a bit, and Peter was quite impressed as well. Suddenly the lost respect for me he had when I got in flipped 180 and doubled. He was soon asking me what I thought of the administration, government in general, how did I know so much about banking and the monetary system. All I could say was that I saw a really good documentary and recommended it to him. Money Lenders, or Money Changers, I believe it was called. Another good for content, bad by production, film is Freedom vs. Facism talking about how income tax is completely unconstitutional and illegal.
This took about half an hour for us to start getting into these conversations, and soon we were having really lively, intense conversations while pausing and playing the Jackson tape to really figure out what the world is doing now. It was a really great ride all the way to Laramie, and when he dropped me off at the library there you could tell neither of us were really ready to part ways. Alas, I thanked him again for the ride and he went off to his lecture.
An hour later I was heading into downtown Laramie a few blocks away where 287 crosses through town. The whole way walking there I kept running a debate in my head of whether or not to head south down 287 where I'd likely pick up a ride in no time toward the Front Range sprawl and hopefully Denver, or do I head north back to an on ramp by I-80 and try to make some miles east. I had a week now to get half way across the country and was thinking any more slacking off would keep me from getting there in time.
At the same time I couldn't help but notice all the Colorado plates driving around up there as I turned north toward I-80. I also passed within 100 yards of a desperately slow moving freight train with all the right kinds of cars to jump on to heading south. I even walked toward it hesitantly before turning back. Starting over the bridge toward I-80 a kid picked me up for a short hop and dumped my right by the exit. That was it, I was hitching east.
It was about 4:30pm now and I stood right at the on ramp until sunset with my thumb out. No one. Stunning view though. I decided that once the sunset and I was little more than a creepy guy in a hat standing in the dark under a single street lamp by the on ramp in a state its illegal to hitch in that I'd head down to the truck stop and get some dinner. One lady had stopped, and again, in place of a ride she gave me $7. That $7 convinced myself that I should have a $17 dinner of an all you can eat steak buffet. You'd have done the same.
It was the best damn meal I to memory where I stuffed myself silly with three or four courses, bottomless coffee, and was sitting in the drivers section by invite chatting with all the truckers as an obvious hitcher. The waitress roaming around was completely adorable too, that didn't hurt. After a good hour or so I had eaten all I could and saw no promising leads that one of the truckers I was chatting with was even entertaining the idea of giving me a lift, so I paid my bill and left.
Once again, I did not think about drinking tons of coffee along side going to bed afterward. I decided to sit out and hitch a bit more in front of the truck stop, but it was completely dead. I crossed over the bridge back to the one on the other side and just felt creepy over there. Returning back to my original spot that I'd had in the day time I figured that I was just going up there to wait out the coffee buzz and feel productive in the meantime, but really didn't expect anyone to pick me up in the dark when nobody did in the daylight.
A half an hour later Juan pulled up next to me to my very great surprise. He told me he was heading to Greeley in just enough English for me to understand. Greeley is 50 minutes north of Denver so I hopped in and started sending out texts to Ang and Loreli.
Both were ecstatic, which of course made me feel really good. I asked Loreli if I could stay at her place if I could catch a ride from Loveland down I-25 to Denver that night and she responded with "don't be silly we're coming up to get you". I was beaming the rest of the hour ride down with Juan as we decided to work on each others linguistic skills. I spoke in my crap ass Spanish to him and he'd respond and correct me in his broken but relatively fluent English. When our brains hurt after a bit of that he turned to showing me transvestite joke gifs that his cousin texted him that day. Good times.
I bid him adieu at a gas station in Loveland right by the ramp to I-25 and he went off another ten minutes down the road to Greeley to his family. As I waited for Loreli and Brandon to drive up I started talking with the guy working the register there. He was a pretty cool guy in from Brooklyn who was another who'd been converted to being strictly a Colorado guy now. It was a good way to pass the time, and he was an interesting guy with good perspective and insights as well.
By about midnight they arrived and we were cruising back down the highway talking about the weirdness about me just suddenly popping back by again. It was odd for all of us, but no one was complaining. At that point I was up for a good dose of home before continuing on east.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
