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I built a bonfire for my brother, that cost me one quarter of singed all my hair on the right side of my body in an attempt burning log to the bonfire so to burn with more fury in godly Joshua in Camaroon. May God’s love be with him. I hope he can on the otherside of this ocean.

my beard. Rather I to return a fallen honor of my brother hear me all the way

June 16, 2009 Further along my tiresome toil, I came across some garden soil, Of which will come forbidden fruit, Of Eve and Adams foil. The ocean is a mystical place. The waves from the deep come crashing down on the shore, bringing with them amazing grace. While the World is asleep, the waves still come relentlessly, churning waters, making soil. Each wave that comes leaves it’s shadow, It’s mark upon the sand, Soon erased by God’s sweet hand, As another wave reaches for the land. I find my thoughts are like the ocean. They crash into the moment bringing noise and ideas, but sure enough if I will it they will return back to their source, and all is still, until another wave finds it’s course. Like the ebb and flow of the tide below, my thoughts will come and go with life, however in between the discourse of my own mind I am finding stillness in mother nature around. All the food in the world couldn’t satisfy the craving I have for friends and family. I carry their love with me as I walk, and their faces I see when others talk. Softly now, my words and thoughts are but footprints in the sand, soon to vanish by the ocean’s hand. I thank God for the delightful company seagulls make. They’ve made quite an audience more than once. I like to see the world’s relationship with god as one Grand Lover’s Quarrel. In which began out of love in the garden of Eden. God loved us with everything in heaven and allowed us to live in paradice. However there was one condition: Don’t eat the tastiest looking fruit of all the Nature that surrounds you. Being the curius and adventurous humans that we are we naturally ate that apple in a heartbeat! And God was pissed when he found out we were sneaking fruit from his precious tree and cast us out of heaven. He said: “My house, My rules!” and booted us to earth to live in the greed, selfishness, and hate of the world without his love. And so, we did. We survived on our own. We evolved, and fought for life! Like trees that reach upward toward the sky for light. We endured on searching for what part of ourselves we left in Eden. But the beauty is that God is calling us back home. His love is eternal and he wants to incite us back into heaven, back to Eden with freedom. Freedom to be human. But God can’t make us come back. We were given the choice of free-will to do as we please. That forbidden fruit gave us consciousness, a consciousness to choose between the universe, and the world. Buddha said that there was no greater sorrow that separation, and to choose a world, a life, separate from God would bring eternal sorrow. However should you choose love, you choose to reunite with God, and become one with the universe.

June 18, 2009 I slept last night in the spooky hollow, Where snakes and spiders rule the land, Poison oak is wildly abundant, In this cove of venom and shelter. I have been like a snowball Rolling down the mountain, Attracting opportunities, Like wishes in the fountain. Further south is my goal, To meet some friends And save the world. I have resolved with determined will. That I am on the journey home. I lost my mind along the sands of time, but only so I could find it. In the moment where worlds collide, I faced my destiny. A choice a choice, is all we have, and choosing makes none the difference. It takes some will to try and sit still when spiders are crawling on you. But if you want to be one, and Nature’s son, it’s something you’ll get used to. Seeing them pull their silky thread from one fingertip to the next, all the while their little legs tickle your skin so sweet. Their webs in this place reach from branch to branch, and are woven so thick it’s hard to believe a humming bird would escape their snare. However they are masters, architects, and cunning, so patient, so vicious, they rule the insect world. Gathering wood last night for a feeble fire, was like entering Shelob’s lair. The entire place here looks like a nest of sticks, trees, and vines. Nonetheless there is a certain calm, of which I’m sure the spiders feel. I feel graced to stay here, and privileged to find company in such rowdy creepy crawlies.

June 19, 2009 Early in the morning, leaving the widows den, rolled me up half a joint, and scarfed some breakfast down. It’s time to hit the road, start walkin with all I got, because I’ve got a dream to live, and a destiny to fulfill. This is what I have in my backpack: -tent -sleeping bag -stove -2 packets easy mac -1 packet ramen -1 instant oatmeal -8 cups rice -2 liters of water -$15 cold American cash Along with enough weed for about one joint thanks to Rezin the night before. I’m ready to walk back to Albuquerque and visit along the journey. Lose 10 bucks for a bus to San Francisco. Have to ditch my tent. Took a chance, dove headfirst into life, and like web work fates threads began to weave.

I went over the hills and through the sun to meet my brother Terrance. He’s a kindred spirit and a charming guy. In Santa Cruz by the ocean blue, I will call my sky. I’ll share my love with the world around me, by lending a hand I’ll do good work, while we celebrate the solstace. June 21st Been a rowdy time out here in Santa Cruz. I have fallen in love with this place and am currently on my way to Bigsur. It’s Fathers day. Here is Plan A: -Bigsur - Acacia’s grandparents house - Los Angeles - and Yuma by Friday. Plan B: -Let the winds of destiny blow my life into whatever field it may. Wait, switch plan A with plan B. I’ve heard about an event in Albuquerque around July 4th weekend called the rainbow gathering. Apparently it is a massive gathering of thousands and thousands of people out in the woods getting rowdy, and praying for peace. I believe it will be an enriching and high vibrating experience. I’m looking forward to bringing peace, spreading the good word, and celebrating life. “Not only is our energy field connected with each other…” Live action quote from Dawni. Santa Cruz is the land of dreams, A Mecca where I hear the stream, I found the man who has the plan, And I found my heart which shouts I can! The women here have dropped my jaw, Every single one that I saw, They are angels from the stars above, And I wish to show them how I love. People praise love in the streets, By singing to the flocks of sheep. Others gather in a circle, And pound their drums for a miracle. I walk the line where worlds collide, And passed the sign “Lightfighter Drive” I watched two people as they hang glide, And scavenged for food with joyful pride. “I am a conduit of God.” - Dawni Cars and Guitars: Driving on the highway hard, Longing for my lost guitar. To get here I have traveled far, By train, by truck, by foot, by car. Not too far along the road, At mile marker 34

Alone he sits in meditation, After doing some leave-taking. June 23, 2009 Singing songs and playing games is how I make it through the day. At least past hours and hours of the walking. From belting oldies, to impromptu lyrics. I’m glad I have the birds as company. I met a woman who gave me hope, although she said I helped her more. I actually stayed with Acacia’s grandparents out south in San Luis Obispo. They were a delightful couple and fed me dank. I listened as Tom shared his wisdom and then pressed on to find my kingdom. Out in Santa Maria I walked through strawberry fields and picked the ripest berry of them all. Freddy picked me up there, I gave him 5 dollars and smoked him out. His buddy Buck joined our party, and gave me a piece to smoke myself rowdy. Ate a Mexi-chocolate bar, bought some fruit from a vendor. Then walked about ten miles. Passed some statues on hallowed ground that inspired me to sing Hallelujah! Through golden hills and farms of green I pressed on and on into the horizon. Finally I caught a ride to a town with good people. I was offered a burrito so good, and scarfed it down with mucho hot salsa. Gonna travel further south or sleep here somewhere on a roof.

June 24, 2009 Let me rap with you a bit my noble and glorious readers. I have some tales to weave of last nights eve and I’m dying to tell someone. Like a faithful friend, here you are, to listen and not judge. So I caught a ride from the town I was last in, and ended up in Santa Barbara. I opted to settle down there and catch a sniff of the ocean air. Maybe scavenge for some food and later find a spot to sleep good. So I walk through town several miles, passed a band and a farmers market, and eventually ended up on the pier where I spoke to my mother dear. The sun was setting it’s getting cold, time to find a place to crash. I should let you know before I forget that a met a man who gave me a gift. I stopped to chat with him and before too long I was holding an old long board. The nuts and bolts are a little rusty, but the wheels are good and the wood is trusty. So now I have a new skateboard to match the shoes which Robin gave me. The deck of the board is painted lovely, of the woman in my dreams. So before I digress too far, and stray away on a tangent lost, I began to speak with a noble sage who asked me if I had spare change. Alas I was poor of silver, but in love they asked for a good deed, and I smoked them out with some bomb ass weed. So picture this if you will: Two men in their fifties with glorious beards. One goes by the name of Happy, the other known as his brother David. The three of us sitting on the pier taking tokes and enjoying the view. They had a sign to spare a dime, but were more focused on enjoying the time. I gazed deep in Happy’s eyes to discover that his name was no lie, for with joy the windows to his soul did shine. Before too long I don my coat and match Happy’s camouflage clothes. The tag on his breast read “Air Force” and I couldn’t help but see futures course. A fork in the road where one path may lead, the others unknown, but told by good deed. David pulls out a pint of vodka, passes it around, and I say thank-ya. I couldn’t help but hear Terrance’s words roll through my mind: “Don’t pass a bottle with men of this kind, lest you risk a nasty virus that may hold you in it’s bind.” Yet I couldn’t help but see their beauty, and to my lips did I press the bottle and drink.

Without guilt and no moments regret, I chilled on the dock with these saintly men. They recited their poetry and sang their songs of which were composed on the road traveled long. Happy made a gallant gesture, and made mention of a jester, then with a bow that opened the door, introduced himself as a grand troubadour. He travels the earth with his brother companion, and sings the songs for worthy champions. I had a chance to meet a few of their friends, and I must admit I felt graced to be in the presence of such saintly men. They discussed some of the religious texts that they read, and recited some psalms, and a proverb or two. I must say that I’m slightly intrigued with the writings of the Oua’ran. As it got dark and the stars came out, they kindly offered me a place to sleep. By that time, I had been dubbed with a noble title, a name in which I bear with pride. These wise men called me by the name: “Old Dude”. Home last night was a concrete patio on the beach behind a rec center. I once again dot sleep out under the stars listening to the ocean waves drift me out to dreamy sea. In the morning I broke bread with the two troubadours once again, and received some fine directions through Southern California by bus, to make it all the way to South LA this evening. It’ll cost me the majority of my funds, but seems to be the best way to travel. They gave me some tips on how to fly a sign and make some extra cash, so if all ends run out, I’ll read my poems for spare change. However, I have to write a few more first… P.S. long boarding along the beach was an amazing experience. I’m looking forward to doing some more traveling by skateboard. Trying to make my way today, Traveling through the streets of LA. My food and funds are running low, But if it hurts, it doesn’t show. So so tired…… June 25, 2009 So I tried to make my way down south to get past the sprawl of LA. What I thought would be skating along the beach actually was a day of hopping on city buses throughout the entire day. It wasn’t very exciting at all, but it got me down south somewhere in Orange County. On a bus down there I met a prophet. A man who was kind a full of knowledge. He began to tell me how he was planning to go into the mountains tomorrow and search for a gem he had found nearly 15 years ago. Apparently this gem is of the rarest quality, and is located near old Spanish History. In a land filled with old tools and dinosaur bones, where the granite is green and the rivers used to flood. So much history he told me, about how the Spanish and Mexicans fought. The natives and the settlers were here in the ages past. The location of these mountains, and where they reach the ocean was where the Spanish long ago visited the new world and sailed out from the harbor three times. He then began to tell me about religion and his unshakable faith and belief in Jesus Christ. We talked and talked through the night about our thoughts and philosophies of God. This man is full of the word of God. He invited me to join him on this quest through the mountains to excavate this gem that will find him fortune. However if I go with him I’ll be late a week to visit Grandpa. Then by that time I will have little time to go to Albuquerque and catch the Rainbow Gathering on the 4th. I have a decision to make this morning of which road to take… June 27, 2009 Let me indulge you a little more on this guy Vito. He’s about as skinny as a

twig, but has some meat on his bones from all the time he spent hiking in the mountains. Well, he lived up in these mountias for about ten years, so he’s accustomed to woodsman activities. His hair is slightly graying and his eyes cast a searching gaze. He is a constant stream of endless chatter and talking. The words just flowed and flowed and every time I began to respond he would not budge and continued his spoken onslaught. So I simply listened, and much of what he said was fascinating, it was when the repetition began that lost my interest and grinded the nerves. He seemed to know a lot about geology but used the terms “them” and “they” all too often, and most commonly referred to “they” or “them” as liars. So I just listened and contemplated what this mans intentions were. In the morning we went to go take some cans to the recycling place and scored about 5 bucks for being environmentally friendly. At that point I had a pretty strong urge to leave this man’s company and go onward to San Diego and try to reach Yuma by Friday. However, because of this endless stream of enthusiastic chatter I reasoned that this was just yet another opportunity, and I trusted in it’s outcome. Who knows, I may be walking out of the mountain the next day with a million dollar stone and find fortune overnight! Here is the plan: -Ride buses to campground. -Pack up stuff and eat steaks. -Hike as far up the mountain until dark. -camp -find stone(?) -Reach Yuma Saturday morning. The first two parts went without a hitch, and I met this man’s mother during that time, and by 2:00 p.m. we hit the road leading up into the Santa Anna mountains. When we were waling up the road leading into the particular canyon we were going to explore, I saw another face of Vito. I was walking a few paces behind Vito as a fireman in a pickup truck drove by. Vito made no wave or sound, whereas I smiled and waved as the truck slowed down to a stop, and the amn spoke through the window. “There are some FBI and CIA agents up ahead, so keep in mind there is no samping up here.” -in a cautionary tone. I say “thanks for letting us know,” and keep on walking. Before I take four steps Vito is already in past me and in a defensive, and antagonistic tone retorts: “Who are you? And I don’t care what you think about me, so mind your own business!” I sigh. The fireman taken aback responds defensively to Vito’s agitation. “I’m Richard a fireman from these parts. Let---” “I don’t need you coming out here telling me my business!: The voices were raising at an alarming rate. Vito: “I’m a Christian! I’m going up there to get my precious gemstone. I left it up there 15 years ago!” There was a tinge of hysteria. “You’ll see me in the papers tomorrow! Look it up, my names Vito!” He was practically shouting. I laugh awkwardly. The fireman then steps out of the truck and is within three inches of Vito’s face. “Who am I? Who the fuck are you coming at me!?” “I’m Vito, and I’m going to get MY gemstone!” Now scoffing : “Yeah, right!” I step closer and interject: “Woah woah woah, can’t we both just go our own way and have some peace?” Some more shouting from the both of them for a few seconds before I urge Vito forward and the fireman drives away, and I began to lose a little of the confidence I had in Vito. At this point I’m feeling the anger pour out of this man, as he is fuming away yelling nonsense about that firefighter for about twenty minutes. During this time I’m just being dumped on by Vito’s bad vibes, but, parried

occasionally. By reminding the Christian of Christ. “What would Jesus do?” “Why, Jesus would vengefully crush his enemies before him!” “You think he would walk away fuming like this?” He then quoted from his bible a passage about the fury of God. That ended it, and we walked onward into the mountains. I must apologize to the readers if I cannot remember all of what Vito said, but please understand that he talked a lot, and interrupted about 75% of all attempt at dialogue. However do not get me wrong, I enjoyed listening to him speak, there was much that seemed like blabber to me. It was nice to hear someone drone on and on who wasn’t me for a change. I actually learned quite a bit about geology and religion from the time spent listening to Vito. I was beginning to question the reliability of his story in my head, but resolved myself to press onward anyway. The going was tough and actually quite challenging at times. There was quite a bit of hopping from stone to stone over pools of water while having to avoid the poison oak that grew abundantly the creek. (to be continued…) Anyway, so Vito and I trek through these mountains, my pants rip all the way from the belt loops to the back of by knee and it’s dark so we need to find some place to camp immediately, seeing as we had no lights. Our best option is to scramble up a desert slope about 80 yards that was at about a 75 degree angle. There we found a few spots that were sufficiently level. I rolled my sleeping bag out and used a desert shrub as a brace by my feet to hold me in place so I did not tumble down the slope. Although I was down to build a campfire up there Vito was adamant about not doing so, which was in all likelihood a good thing. Nonetheless, I had dad’s trusty stove with me and boiled up some polish sausage for dinner. I fell asleep once again to the constant stream of chatter coming from Vito’s mouth. I was hearing all about stuff while I gazed up at the starry sky responding tersely with a “uh-huh” or “yeah” every once in a while just to let him know I was still there. Morning came early with a spectacular view off of the mountain. Sleeping on the slope went well, though I intermittently woke up from sliding down the slope too far and readjusted myself back to my original position. The view I saw was of two ridges leading out into a sea of clouds. The early morning fog had covered the city and ocean like a giant quilt and the sun rising behind us over the mountain cast the shadows of the peak in glorious contrast to the white clouds below. I packed up my bags wanting to hit the hike early in hopes of being off the mountain later that day and then in Yuma early the next morning. Vito had an extra pair of pants in his bag that he gave to me, and they fit well. Breakfast was the rest of the Polish sausages, and we smoked a bowl of kef that Vito had scraped from discarded medical marijuana containers from a medical facility that distributes it. It was a good bowl and got me really high! We talked a little further about some spiritual philosophy and then left our bags down at the bottom of the hill by the creek to continue on with our movement unimpeded by a heavy bag. The weed delayed us for an hour or two, but it was enjoyable company during that time, and I was stoked about the hike ahead nonetheless. Vito reassured me with promises of buying me a bus ticket tonight and getting me to my grandparents the next morning or even that evening. I didn’t hold too much stock in those promises but they reassured me slightly. Then we began running up the mountain. Vito’s speed at hiking here greatly surprised me. Leaping from rock to rock I would look down for a second or two at my own footing and when I looked ahead he would be up past the next obstacle. I had to turn it up a notch to keep up with him, and I managed to hang. There were some places where we climbed rock faces around large pools of water filled with pink salamanders and frogs. Some spots were swarming with what Vito called “Meat Bees”, which were smaller than bumble bees but larger than honey bees. For some reason it was in the spots swarming with bees that Vito would stop to rest. He would then start chatting again, and I patiently listened as the bees

circled us. Vito was seemingly, genuinely concerned with getting me to my grandparents and watched the time closely. We pressed on hard, but the poison oak became more and more abundant and began to bar our path more and more. Some places it completely barricaded our path and it took a bit of time to prune it away. Despite all the pruning there were a few times when I noticed I had brushed up against an outstretched vine. The poison oak did not irritate my skin however. After about two hours Vito stepped up on a slick rock and lost his footing causing his shin to slam into another stone. I was about seven paces back when I heard a sharp cry come from Vito followed by some sharp inhales. We rested and then pressed on at slower rate. Vito was having foot pain from the slip, and his efficiency decreased. Around twelve thirty we ate some PB and J sandwiches for lunch, called his mom from his cell phone and asked her to look up bus tickets, but she said there weren’t any tickets. I decided to go a bit further, but still wanted to be back on my way to Yuma. Back on the trail the terrain became a bit more travelable without as many stops to cut through the poison oak, and we kept walking until we came to spots that Vito was sure he would remember from 15 years ago. Though we hadn’t passed one yet, the landscape had changed a lot since he was last here. I was beginning to doubt whether or not his memory was correct in where we were going. Vito would say as we cam to another turn in the canyon, “Oh wow, all this is new!” and “These rocks never used to be here!” Vito would then say that there was a landmark up ahead that we would see, which was never to be found. However his voice contained passion and fervor which he himself believed was true, and I trusted in him for at least a little while, but to be completely honest would not have been let down in the slightest if we didn’t find the stone which I didn’t expect to find anyway. So it got about three thirty in the afternoon and Vito called his mother again. This time she typed Yuma Arizona and opposed to Yuma California, and gave me some departure times that evening. Vito was upset with her for it. What really got to me was what happened next. Vito’s phone began to ring, and it was his wife who he had not seen in the last five days or heard from. “Hello?” “Where are you?” there was a short pause where I could hear her begin to answer but was cut off by Vito yelling angrily. “Listen to me! I need to know where you are! Do you have any money?” “WHAT! YOU SPENT ALL YOUR MONEY!” “WHERE ARE YOU?” She began to speak during the brief pause but was cut off by Vito’s screaming. “Listen to me! I’m on a mountain! I’M ON THE MOUNTAIN!!! I NEED YOU TO LISTEN TO ME! I’M ON THE MOUNTAIN! NO! JUST LISTEN TO ME! LISTEN! I’M ON TOP OF THE MOUNTAIN! LISTEN! WHERE ARE YOU?” By the end he was bellowing into the phone. “YOU’RE AT TACO BELL!?” “I THOUGHT YOU DIDN’T HAVE ANY MONEY?” “YOU HAVE THREE DOLLARS!” “I NEED YOU TO LISTEN TO ME! I’M ON TOP OF A MOUNTAIN!” “WHERE ARE YOU?” “I’LL CALL YOU LATER.” Then he hung up and I nearly felt sick having listened to his conversation and feeling the negativity pour off of him. Was it necessary to scream with such blind rage at someone? Let alone his wife? It was like listened to my Dad scream at me on the phone, with out any sense of reason or need to yell. All of a sudden I woke up. “She’s her own person.” I told him. “No she’s not! She’s my wife and a marriage has responsibilities you don’t understand, she needs to realize that she needs to do certain things, the lord says that a man and woman should work together, she just needs to listen to me.”

“Let’s go.” I said. I was bummed out. All of that got to me. I felt the woman’s pain. “You’re right. I think we are about 2/3 of the way there. I think we can make it.” He then looked at the time “Fuck- Lord forgive me, I need to stop cussing, but I’m really upset with my mother for not giving me better information about the bus. She really let me down. If only she would be better with things.” I felt sick to my stomach with Vito I needed to get back on my path as soon as possible. “I want to go home.” I was lost in my own thoughts. “That has nothing to do with you Vito, but I want to go home.” “Well my mom said she can’t pick us up after seven, and I promise you, we won’t make it out of the mountain by then. I’ll get you to your grandparents house.” I stopped. “I’m going that way.” My finger pointed down the mountain, and my voice was firm. “I don’t care what you do Vito, but I am getting off this mountain.” “Well I’m telling you! You can’t make------” I waved away his words like flies and said “Up or Down Vito. Make your decision. I’m leaving regardless of what you do.” My eyes pierced into his soul with fire. “Down.” “So be it.” and I was off. I moved with fury under my feet. I was getting out of there now. I moved like a wolf through the woods. I saw Nature around me, and when it barred my path with tree limbs I ripped them from the earth and hurled them out of my way. Vito was now struggling to keep up. After I moved about a ¼ mile I allowed Vito to go first. However, whenever he stalled to talk his ceaseless blabber and stopped his feet I growled deeply and passed him. Eventually he learned the pace and stayed in front as I herded him down the mountain. I remembered being told something by a military man when I was at the back of the line as our second grade class toured a military base. “A true leader leads from behind.” In an hour we reached our packs. We both took rest at this first stopping point and drank water. While Vito rested, I prepared snacks for us. Vito filled the water bottles for the return journey. I strapped most of the weight to my bag so to lighten his load, and make the return hike easier for him to bear. When Vito had sufficiently recovered his energy we pressed on. I was racing against time. (to be continued…) -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Early morning thoughts in Yuma: June 29, 3009 I Dreamt about her last night. She was perfect. I heard her playing her violin and she made me melt. She was blonde. We were made for each other. She listens to country music. She knows what I think. We were going to go together but I woke up. I told her that I had a dream about her. I held her in my arms and…. Nothing else Matters. This was the dream I had last night, well as much of it as I can remember. When I woke up I began to pray. I thanked God and gave my love to him, and then humbled myself and asked for help. I said in complete surrender: “Please. Please Lord, help me find her.” Her eyes saw my soul What I do I do for her She was the Yin to my Yang I love her

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------The going was quite a bit slower carrying all that extra weight, but the past four weeks of preparation have strengthened my legs to handle it as if it were normal. Before long however we walked out of the canyon at precisely 7:00. That allowed Vito to call his mom and then give us a ride into town where we both could catch a bus to our destinations. I was going to the greyhound station, and Vito was going somewhere else. I think Laguna beach. I was going to attempt to make it to the station before nine o’clock at night so I could purchase a ticket for the last bus and make it to Yuma Saturday morning, but it was looking like I would arrive there shortly after nine o clock. Vito urged me to go with him, but I was steadfast in my decision and bid him a fond farewell and a peace be with you. Leaving his company and skating to the next bus stop was a very freeing experience. However a few minutes later Vito came running by and gave me a few bottles of IBC root beer and then ran off again. I said thanks, and shared them with the passengers on the bus. I pray that man finds peace. When I got to the bus station, the exhaustion set in, and the desk was closed. So I sat around for an hour or two until I was told the station would close, so I walked outside and found a nice flat spot under some palm trees by the railroad tracks, threw out my sleeping bag, and crashed hard. Morning came after a delightful sleep. I woke up pretty tired but slept well. When I awoke there was a worker walking by, and I greeted him with a cheerful good morning. I then rolled up my sleeping back and entered the bus station. Used the restroom to clean up a bit, washing my face and neck, and running a bit of cold water through my hair. I was being paid for some work I had done in El Paso a while ago, and that money was to be deposited into my account so I could afford the bus ticket. The bus was leaving at Seven P.M. My goal for the day was to find a shower, and a place to do laundry. Other than that I just wanted to chill and rest. I set out on my skateboard down the street and ended up buying a cup of coffee at a burger king. So I was sitting there chillin when I asked a patron if he knew of any rec centers, truck stops, or locker rooms where I might be able to find a shower near by. He was very helpful and gave me simple directions to a place called “Mary’s Kitchen”. At this place I could shower, do laundry, and they’ll have food for you. Thank you! When I got there I found myself in the company of many people without homes in a safe and friendly atmosphere. I started my clothes in the wash, took a very refreshing shower, and then enjoyed a huge breakfast spread fit for a king! Danishes, donuts, scones, fruit, muffins, bagels, bread, and more! It was dank, and there was more than enough for everybody. It was wonderful! I spent the morning and afternoon talking to the people there, listening to their stories and performances. I was eager to help out so I spoke to Ishmael who was a worker there, and he directed me to some boxes to move and arrange some storage stuff. Lunch was a delicious feast prepared by a church organization. It was beef stroganoff, cornbread, salad, peas, fruit, and a brownie. They also passed out sack lunches which I saved for dinner. I asked to help again after lunch and cleaned one of the bathrooms for them. After that, we all gathered in a circle and prayed. I love prayer and meditation. So now clean, full, and with clean laundry, I set back out for the greyhound station. I skated all the way there enjoying the hot afternoon. All the big cities around here were pretty much the same. There are Barnes and Nobles, Starbucks, there are malls, and car lots, movie theatres and restaurant chains. SO many places to acquire more shit, so many places to shop. However, if a city life is what you prefer you can find it anywhere around the country. You just have to pick the most preferable climate, which seems to be the only difference between the many cities. I’ve found on my travels that it is the small country owns in which I prefer. The

towns that have one general store and a locally owned restaurant or two. They are usually located on the edge of a glorious sight in nature. The people seem more genuine, more awake and present than the common city dweller. Then again a life on the road is highly exciting as well, and any destination can be considered as home. There is something sublime about finding yourself walking through fiery golden fields with dominating snow capped peaks around the edge of the horizon. To your left is a crystal lake shinning like a beacon in the noon sun. The wind picks up and a cooling breeze dries the sweat on the back of your neck and you smell pine and wildflowers floating on the air like sweet perfume. I prefer that to anything else I have known.

Words of a Way Walker Part 2  
Words of a Way Walker Part 2  

The second part of the true coming of age journey in America