tread lightly because of rattlesnakes and black widows
We left Toronto on the longest day of the year and quickly got swept up by life on the road again.
Sleep deprivation and the Rockies Mountains resulted in overwhelming sensations.
Got an email from Pete (the 1-wheeled) of St. Johns Newfoundland.
I made it the farthest east and then finally traveled west across Canada, falling in love with the landscape, poverty and other transients.
And I fall again. Weave in and out...my weary history.
Everything I stumble upon has been prophecy
I'm lost to Bob Dylan lyrics "I don't know when I'll be coming back again. It depends on how I'm feeling." (spanish boots of spanish leather)
My hands are stained with cherry juice.
I don't speak french. (All the Quebec kids on the farm speak french.) I don't speak Punjabi. (The East Indian family I work for picking cherries speaks Punjabi.)
The weed is great out here. I get stoned like I'm a kid again. But the intoxication is just another pleasure that augments, and doesn't eradicate, my confusion.
Its a short hitchhiking excursion to make it to the town of Oliver BC. I break from my isolation amongst mountains and language barriers and am glad to find decent tap water, and telephone and internet services.
This helps me still feel connected, though I'm certainly feeling the literal miles.
We are working hard for next to no money.
I'm dirty and callused, getting up at quarter to five every day in order to earn enough cash to survive. We need at least enough to see more of BC. But I'm feeling the need to flee. I always think "I don't want to be here" when I'm discontent. But here is anywhere.
Life can be awful lonesome and heartbreak hard.
The Buddhist temple in California that I applied to volunteer at refused me.
There is an extreme power in transience, (things stagnating in permanence) but that doesn't keep me from longing.
And so now I'm a little lost though stationary. I fear choosing going back to school in the fall. I don't want to do it just because I don't know what else to do with myself. It's been nearly 7 months since I've been home.
"Home is only a place saturated with an abundance of memory."
-Fortune
"Home is where the cat is." - Rebecca Macphee
My head is spinning from french, timezone jumping and an abundance of life.
But I'm mostly happy.
Sleep deprivation and the Rockies Mountains resulted in overwhelming sensations.
Got an email from Pete (the 1-wheeled) of St. Johns Newfoundland.
I made it the farthest east and then finally traveled west across Canada, falling in love with the landscape, poverty and other transients.
And I fall again. Weave in and out...my weary history.
Everything I stumble upon has been prophecy
I'm lost to Bob Dylan lyrics "I don't know when I'll be coming back again. It depends on how I'm feeling." (spanish boots of spanish leather)
My hands are stained with cherry juice.
I don't speak french. (All the Quebec kids on the farm speak french.) I don't speak Punjabi. (The East Indian family I work for picking cherries speaks Punjabi.)
The weed is great out here. I get stoned like I'm a kid again. But the intoxication is just another pleasure that augments, and doesn't eradicate, my confusion.
Its a short hitchhiking excursion to make it to the town of Oliver BC. I break from my isolation amongst mountains and language barriers and am glad to find decent tap water, and telephone and internet services.
This helps me still feel connected, though I'm certainly feeling the literal miles.
We are working hard for next to no money.
I'm dirty and callused, getting up at quarter to five every day in order to earn enough cash to survive. We need at least enough to see more of BC. But I'm feeling the need to flee. I always think "I don't want to be here" when I'm discontent. But here is anywhere.
Life can be awful lonesome and heartbreak hard.
The Buddhist temple in California that I applied to volunteer at refused me.
There is an extreme power in transience, (things stagnating in permanence) but that doesn't keep me from longing.
And so now I'm a little lost though stationary. I fear choosing going back to school in the fall. I don't want to do it just because I don't know what else to do with myself. It's been nearly 7 months since I've been home.
"Home is only a place saturated with an abundance of memory."
-Fortune
"Home is where the cat is." - Rebecca Macphee
My head is spinning from french, timezone jumping and an abundance of life.
But I'm mostly happy.