June 17, 00/ 4:15pm EDT - 06/17/00 20:26:13
My URL:Washington D.C.
Sleep Location: India House Too (hostel in Takoma Park)
Recent Job: odd jobs at India House; stage breakdown at Bath Abbey in Bath, England
Interesting Characters: Nick, the chattiest and chummiest Brit
Next Destination: Phoenix, Arizona by way of Austin in a beatdown car named Layla, yahoo!

Comments:
Just a quick entry folks- I know it's been a long time and many days and thousands of miles have passed since I filled you in. I arrived back in the U.S. on Thursday after a month in Bath, England with Julia. I'll save the details for another time and just mention what is on the agenda now. I'm in Washington D.C. and leaving tomorrow morning to get back to Phoenix in time for Julia's arrival on Wednesday, Summer Solstice day. 2400 miles are ahead of me and I'll have 3 1/2 days. Driving at least 12 hours a day (no problem unless the car itself has one), I'll be there in time to pick Julia up from the airport. It's a long stretch through the states: Virginia, Kentucky, Tennessee, Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, Texas, New Mexico then, finally, Arizona. I'm hoping to take passengers with me to share expenses, but no takers yet. My, what a wild few months it's been. Enough experiences to let float around in my head all summer and gradually put down on the web for your enjoyment. Yep, I'll be summering in Phoenix once again. But at least Julia will be with me so it should all be more tolerable. Hope to give you more of the skinny in the next week. Thanks for your patience with me friends, family, and travelers.

May 3/ 3pm EDT - 05/03/00 19:06:14
My URL:Washington D.C. (Takoma Park)
Sleep Location: India House Too, a hostel near the MD border of DC
Recent Job: I was Mr. Clean-Up Guy at a condominum construction site in Aberdeen, Maryland. I got the one day job on Monday while hanging out nearby at a rest stop. Decided to go to the nearest Labor Ready, so I worked my day and netted $34... wooH O!
Interesting Characters: Harold, the young pondering intellectual at the India House; Dave, the good guy who runs the India House and is crazy for his hometown's football club: Newcastle in England
Next Destination: England, HO!

Comments:
Staying at a hostel now, life has changed a bit and I'm able to get myself stabilized long enough to earn the needed cash to get to England to be with Julia. I had a job interview with an employment placement service and if all goes well, I'll be making t e big bucks as soon as tomorrow. It's nice to be able to dress up when needed and fool everyone into thinking I'm your average respectable employee. (I went to the thrift store and scored a couple shirts, two pairs of pants, and some decent shoes all for 18). The hostel is a cool place. It's independently run, so it has more of a homey feel- like living in a co-op. A couple Brits mostly run the place and the nice, open back yard with hammock, porch, and green grass lend an offhand charm and kickbackedness to the place. I have much to tell, as its been about a month since I last reported, but unfortunately I must now exit the library and walk up the street to the hostel so I can sit by the phone and wait for a job to be handed me. Check back and I'll give you some detail about DC, Philadelphia, New York, Florida and more soon.

3/21/00...4pm EST - 03/21/00 22:06:58
My URL:http://www.savannahgeorgia.com/
My Email:[email protected]
Best Ride: (see previous entry)
Sleep Location: Economy Inn with Julia and Tessa in Savannah near Greyhound station
Next Destination: Brunswick, Georgia (very cool hostel there, only an hour down the coast from here)

Comments:
I'm here at the Savannah library again. I just couldn't let things stand with my last entry earlier today (below) in the road journal. Good things are happening and though I seem to be caught up in a few travel and personal dilemmas, I am still reveling in Georgia and THIS, the first day of spring. Ah, beautiful sunshine and the most gentle, non-invading breeze waft between the buildings and in the public, historical squares. It is a wonderfully lazy day and I can admit that even while going through my present doldrums that came on this morning. I'm aware my strong reaction to all the radical changes that have happened this week is partly due to an overindulgence of Smirnoff Vodka that left me emotionally fragile and hyper-sensitive. Still, the morning woke me early next to Julia (and Tessa- the three of us share a bed for sleeping and watching Comedy Central on television part of the day) as we whispered back and forth to each other, trying not to wake Tessa. I left the motel around 8am for morning coffee, cigarettes and a walk. Julia is weaning me from my cancer sticks. I'd shared the time had just about come for me to give up the habit and she was sensible enough to say that time might as well be now (seeing that she really hates the smell of smoke, on me and otherwise). My current allotment is 15 cigs a day. I was given 3 for what I said would be a three hour walk- I had to beg the third off her, saying mornings is when I smoke the most- and headed in an easterly direction of Savannah, looking for residential neighborhoods. I walked down streets presenting stately, magnificent southern houses- whitest, pillared porches, classical arches and turrets, and fully gardened yards tucking through and around doors, windows, chimneys. The squares here consist of city blocks hemmed in by businesses and buildings brimming with historical value. In most squares, staggered in 3 to 4 block intervals throughout the downtown grid, plaques and statues commemorate olden times of new world colonization and milestones in American history, such as General Sherman's house- or was it headquarters?, honorable mentions of civil war veterans, and all good things said to have come out of this area of the land of Georgia and our United States. Spanish Moss grows amidst it all, as well as rubber plants, grand, mushroom cloud oaks, and every conceivable plant between and near the sidewalks and relatively narrow asphalted streets. At first, it's a little hard to distinguish the Georgians from the tourists as in most cities- barring the obviousness of cameras and vacation-pack mentality. When one looks closer and more candidly, a picture of a true Savannah native takes shape and makes me, at least, smile. It's something in the gait, both walking and thinking. I can almost see in many such faces a chuckling, as if the person is remembering a recent funny experience and invoking it again in their eyes. As the mammoth St. Patrick's Day celebration implies, there is a larger percentage of Irish here that is unmistakable, but I see for myself that the daily history is carried out by the southern black folks whose presence is most felt with a sense of permanence and flowing. The flavor of the city is in their surety, whereas the average white person walks down the street with an almost noticeably lighter touch. Passing a bus stop with women going to work- at the moment, all of African descent- I defer to them in my posture and step, feeling they know me to have not personalized this place the way they as part of an ethnic community in Savannah have. I bear the knowledge

3/21/00...10:00am EST - 03/21/00 15:57:36
My URL:http://www.savannahgeorgia.com/
My Email:nine
Best Ride: Jacksonville, FL to Savannah, GA (ride with Gary, a truck driver, in his rig... good company and much relief in getting the ride that would take me to journey's end)
Worst Ride: Smithville, TX to Houston, TX (bad ride mostly because of drop-off point. Felipe, a nice man who spoke hardly any English, did not understand my request for a truck stop OUTSIDE of Houston and so he took me all the way into the city.) Sleep Location: No sleep except 10-30 minute naps sitting up in the passenger seat of various vehicles.
Recent Job: Been working at the census. Asked to take an extended weekend leave for this trip. I was supposed to be back no later than this morning. More on that below.
Interesting Characters: Rico, a fellow lifetime traveler heading 'home' to New Port Richey, FL- he had many proud remarks of his local Taco Bell compared with the one we ate in at Tallahassee, FL; The security guard at the rest stop at which I was tranded for several hours outside of Jacksonville, Fl... the man, mildly retarded, was giving me and my backpack suspicious and frightened looks, though he had nothing to say. I did ask him if he was caretaker there and he may have taken offense to that.< r> Next Destination: Southern Florida, perhaps... Miami?

Comments:
Yes, Georgia. I know, I know. Here I was getting myself settled in Austin and now all of a sudden I'm singing a wholly different tune- a song of the road. I'll confess I'm in altered states, one being a state of adoration/affection that has definitely affected my short-term decision-making. As I've said in a different entry elsewhere, I have no regrets except those that are good enough to remind me not to hurt other people in my spurious spontaneity. Hurting people happens. Where two separate wills are involved, egos and their parts are bound to collide. The fact that I always try to avoid this does not mean I have ever succeeded where it was inevitable. I won't even try to make excuses for my contradicting behaviors. I'll admit my decision to stay on the east coast with Julia does seem against what I have built up in Austin, even though I have been giving this unspoken consideration for some time. A consequence of my action is that I must continue to pay rent at the apartment even though I won't be using it and, just as or more important, I must keep my optimistic perspective and not wallow in all the variables that have been created by my new trip. This is a year of limbo. I reserve the right to change my mind or stride in mid-step, as long as I stay accountable to those people/ obligations I have committed to. Those things have yet to be fully worked out. You can see I'm struggling with the caught-up emotional impact of my actions. It was inevitable and so I'm coping. I usually do jump and then feel secondly. Like with marathon hitchhiking (which this trip to Savannah, Georgia most definitely was), you move so fast and get such haphazard sleep that the weight of new places, faces, experiences, and consequences of actions takes time to catch up. When these things do, a traveler has to be prepared for them and not take things out on himself as hard as he might normally. Regret and guilt can really take away the purpose of travel and destination if one lets them. For now, this is all I have to say. More word on the specifics of my cros

March 9/ 5:30pm - 03/09/00 23:49:22
My URL:Austin, Texas (Library)
Sleep Location: Renting an apartment with friends in west Austin
Recent Job: employee of the United States Bureau of the Census... the feds write my check
Interesting Characters: Richard, the gardening demigod of 24 Flats; Belle, pure Texan, all southern woman, census employee
Next Destination: Savannah, Georgia in a couple weeks to be with Julia, then back to Austin

Comments:
Ok, so it happened. Several weeks with no entries. What did you expect? I'm a city boy again and bumping/ grooving to the daily grind. Not true, really. I haven't really even immersed myself in my 2 1/2 week old job with the census or my one week old apar ment. I'm in limbo still, having separation anxiety from my recently acquired love, Julia, and hostel life. I have become something of a rogue at work- showing up late without calling ahead, no senseless jabbering with other government cheeseheads, workin alone on the computer with data entry and the like, and keeping a book and cigarette in hand while on break. I'm a breeze in that federal building, coming and going without taking too much with me. I do enjoy the work half the time, and observing the peo le. I tell ya, there's a helluva lot of Texas in the office I work in. Women so bold and humoured you'd think they ran the world in these parts. And they do. Most of the time. But I chose a Brit. Julia. My Welsh lass from Bath, England. Ok, she'll probabl give me a little hell when and if she reads this. Julia is tramping around the American south with her mate, Tessa, in Sean and Sam's RV. Digging up ghost lights or something. I think I said before that Sean is fascinated with the paranormal. They were s pposed to have stayed in Beaumont the night before last (they all left on Tuesday. Julia and I sat at Ruta Maya coffeehouse, watching each other, holding hands, jibing each other playfully until the rest of the gang showed up with the RV and took her away from me. What could I do? I told her she could stay with me at the apartment, but she refused. Too many entanglements: roommates, American habits, cigarette smoke, dependence. The timing wasn't right and I could accept that. So I told her I would meet her in Savannah, Georgia, one of the major stops she had planned after reading "Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil" some time before. Imagine Savannah in the springtime. That's where I'll be, with a love by my side and professions to make, some type of p ans to stake. I figure I'll be here in Austin until at least the end of May. Kate and Alan have become two very important people to me. (Alan is in Chicago right now, wrapping up his previous life so he can give himself to Austin.) We have a wonderful, tw bedroom apartment on the very pleasant side of town. A mile from Zilker Park/ Barton Springs, the university, downtown. We have a very spiffy local market not owned by any fierce conglomeration of grocers (Kate just got a job there this week... we'll get a slight discount on all our goodies!) and several good coffeehouses, music stores and bookstores within walking distance. Let me not forget the neighbors. A very intelligent, aesthetic, relaxed air among the people I've met and seen at our complex, 24 Fl ts. Richard, next door, has spent the last several years cultivating a beautiful garden of trees, shrubs, and various intriguing plants around our cove of the building. He was talking just last night about the fact that 'Mama Bird' will be around soon to nest. It seems this particular bird comes every year to our own front 'yard' and gets much respect. I look forward to that as well as the indelibly delightful smells of spring on their way. The weather has been warm already, in that sense that things coul break any day and stay this way. The breeze tries only half as hard to cool as maybe even a week ago; the sun is provocatively bright against one's skin and persistent in lighting a tan that I really have no need for. Ah, but spring will be good. Water f ows through this hilly city at so many intervals, the nostalgic smell of Cottonwoods and every other beautiful green will sparkle in the air with real substance. Can you tell how alive I feel. Believe me when I say it's not all romance and giddy love. It has only partly to do with Julia, and everything to do with a renewed decision to appreciate where the day takes me and the people who keep astounding me in this aven in Texas. I almost feel guilty for not missing Julia half as much as I believe she expects me too. I can't afford to miss her because I know I'll see her soon and I don't want to lose sight of what good and glorious things are happening here. I can't imagine myself anywhere else at this moment than deep in the heart of Texas (YeeeeeeHAW!)

Thursday, Feb. 10 - 02/10/00 23:44:41
Sleep Location: Austin Hostel
Recent Job: odd jobs at hostel
Interesting Characters: Sean, searching for the supernatural in America; Sam, his travel companion and cousin in the Yellow Submarine (motorhome) and one helluva funny guy; ...too many more to say right now

Comments:
At the library with Kate right now- my great and excellent friend also staying at the hostel. Yesterday was her birthday, 24th. Cake and ice cream for everyone in the common area after the 'Pickin Parlor' (Wednesday night live acoustic music at the hostel and dual celebration of Sean's birthday whose birthday happens to be today. After cake festivities, some of us went down to Ruta Maya, the coolest coffehouse/cigar shop/bar/music venue this side of the known world. A new traveler joined us- Marek, from C ech Republic. He enlightened us a bit in why many Europeans think so low of Americans. I won't go into it at the moment, only to say it has something to do with 'culture' or the lack thereof. After Ruta Maya, we all met back at the Yellow Submarine: Sean, Sam, Michael, John, Allen, Tessa, Marek and I. Tessa is an English girl and showed off her lovely singing voice as Sam played the guitar and sang various Beatles, Simon & Garfunkel, and CCR tunes. Lovely evening. Kate had stayed back, feeling like an earl snooze. She and I had stayed up together a two nights previous for 50 hours. It seems we were able to keep the conversation flowing well past sunrise, and before noon we had a bet going: the first person to sleep must be the other one's slave. Well, I wo - but will not hold her to it. She says she would make my life miserable as my slave, even for a day. Kate and I are kindred, and so spend much time together. Smoking cigarettes on the bench outside, staring out on Town Lake or lounging in the grass and l ughing at the most mundane and impossible things. We are also somewhat dangerous for each other, as I'll be honest and say we are two of the most intense individuals on God's green earth- take that as you will. I have so much I should be saying, filling you in on, but I just can't do it; my mind is elsewhere. Plus, Kate and I have to get to the store and run other crazy errands. Believe me though when I say life is good, even a little crazy.

Jan. 31/ 4:45pm - 01/31/00 23:29:16
My URL:www.austin360.com
Sleep Location: living at Austin hostel
Recent Job: cleaning at hostel for free stay + odd jobs around the place for bit o' cash
Interesting Characters: Matthew, the oh-so-aloof intellectual; Terry, the fatherly cowboy; Darren, friend, thrillbilly, and alcohol connessieur extraordinaire; Dan, Mitzi's mellow-like-jello beau

Comments:
Weekend muy interesante. A fire festival birthday party on Saturday, sleepover at Billy and Darren's that night (morning), hit by a bus Sunday afternoon, copwatch meeting that eve, hardcore punk rock show that night, sleepover at Billy & Darren's again la t night... does the fun never end?!! Last weekend, my second night in town, I had met Billy's friends, Augustina, Ana, etc. and was invited to Augustina's birthday party. I should have realized its monstrosity after being handed a full color, sl ck flyer depicting the birthday girl's head on a patron bursting or surrounded by flames with a carefully placed bottle of liquid evil. Saturday night I take the bus from the hostel over to the party. Coldest night I've experienced since the night before, by which I mean it has been an anatomical-shrinkage-inducing weather system. Whoo-boy, haven't felt so afraid to go outside since Cleveland several Januarys back. Anyway, after taking the first bus that came near the hostel, I realized our routes were di erging long before I decided to stick with it to the end. Here I was, sitting on a bus veering northeasterly into the great unknown suburbs of Austin, thinking maybe it would saunter back to my hopeful destination within the next half hour. Got off at a m ll and caught a bus to the proper point or thereabouts. Stopped off at Monarch market for a 12-pack of Newcastle Ales (my mmmfavorite) and joined the party already in progress. My faux pas was that beer was already supplied in the form of two kegs in the ack yard. Ah well, found Mitzi at the party, already schnockered, and joined in with a beer amidst throngs of collegiates, hippies, punk-rockers, etc in this miniature house. Lo and Behold the backyard was also packed. A fire pit built in the middle and a masculine ring of cup-bearing peoples around the keg, I slid on in and enjoyed myself a very fine evening. Mid-night, half the fire crowd was cleared (including myself) to make way for a drum circle and our beloved performers of the evening, "those who pl y well with fire" (or so I will call them). Among them, Angel, Jason, Bracken and others. A jovial young gent in full clown paint and jacked up on stilts lit a baton on both ends and began to fling his rod around his legs with calculated abandon. Angel le the revolution of 'chains on fire' (have not yet learned the true name of these marvelous weighted bags attached to chains with rings on the end for which to twirl with one's fingers). Angel is truly amazing with them, as were others. Each time the flami g chain passed over her head, I could feel the heat and fuel like an awesome blaze of sobriety in the chill of the night. Jason, in court jester attire spewed fire to the delight of everyone (some hundred or more people gathering around) and gasps when th flame seemed to lick his lips and linger a moment too long. Courtney stood by with a damp towel for such moments, her dark smooth skin illuminated in the bright projection. Walked home with Billy around 3am or so to a sleeping home. Mitzi and Darren had eft early and zonked out before then. I fell asleep on the couch I had spent my first three nights in Austin. The morning, I woke up to coffee with Mitzi, Billy, and Darren. Cigarettes and caffeine around the crowded coffee table, making room for mugs ami st bottles of Newcastle, Jagermeister, Jim Beam; ashtrays, cd's and other nefarious instruments of that seemed to never disappear, just get spent and remain. Mitzi and I walked down to take the bus together, she heading for a Copwatch get-together and me ack to the hostel to clean and earn my bed. As the bus was approaching, I snuffed my cigarette and began walking it to the trash a dozen feet away, weaving around the group also waiting. Reaching out to deposit my butt, I feel an irresistable force smack nto my anything but immovable object of a shoulder. Other words, the bus smacked into my shoulder, and I instinctively went limp and released a groan that caused the onlookers to groan in response. Realizing the force had stopped and the pain too, I looke over to realize the sidewalk-side mirror of the bus had plowed into me in the bus driver's deft maneuver to get as close to the damn bus stop as possible. He opens the door and looks at me like, "Oh, shit- I hit a big pedestrian". I smiled and said sorry as I waited in line to get in, people streaming past me to get on the bus and looking at me like I was a freak in the wrong universe at the wrong time. Inside, the driver confessed he thought he whopped me good. I only shrugged and said that kind of stuff happens to me all the time. Which, in a way, is true- but usually it's the top of my head that gets bashed and not my innocent-bystander-of-a-shoulder. No permanent harm done, I think to myself. The pain had completely gone away, only the body shock rode ith me as I got off the bus, saying thanks, and the driver looks at me and says, "Take it easy there buddy, be careful". I chuckle and decide to myself that it's advice worth carrying with me. So... that night, last night- Sunday, took the bus to a Copwatch meeting, having wanted to check it out and get more information about the organization. No incidents with public transit this time. I arrive as the second person. Theresa, the first one, tel s me others should be there any time. [cut short due to time limit...to be continued]

Friday, Jan 21 - 01/28/00 23:52:30
My URL:www.austin360.com
Sleep Location: Billy's on Friday
Interesting Characters: Sarah, Jay, Robert
Next Destination: Austin

Comments:
[retro journal entry continued- see previous entry].... sooooo, riding along in the back of the van with Jay, our beloved driver; Sarah, our resident hippie; Robert, old-timer of the road extraordinaire- Mitzi and I chill out to the d.j. control of Jay, p aying various country music and Jimmy Buffet-ish stuff. End stop is Austin, right where we want to be. Mitzi and I decided we were ready for the end of the road for awhile, having looked to the sky and wished we would get a ride from hippies going all the way. Robert was the first to be dropped off at the last junction before we left I-10 to take the 290 highway toward Austin. His destination was San Antonio, so Jay put him off at a truckstop where Robert mumbled something about seeing if he could do some gener l cleaning there for some food. I smiled at his not-so-subtle hint for some road cash from our driver. Jay did not take the bait, though, being distracted by a conversation with Sarah about music anyway. My opinion has always been not to ask for a handout from the driver, just accept what is given- no less, no more. Ah well, Old-timer still is a demi-hero in my book. Next drop-off was Sarah just a couple miles up. Turns out she wanted to stay on I-10 also and get through Texas. A dilemma was going on in the front seats, though, I noticed as Sarah deliberated if she would take Jay up on his invitation for a night's sta at his place with the wife. "Have you ever taken a hitchhiker home before?" Sarah asked self-consciously. "No," Jay said, but my wife would understand." "But you only get to see her a couple weekends a month..." Sarah trailed off. Jay chuckles, getting h r point. "We've been married 25 years. She wouldn't mind the company." As we slow to the last possible point along the I-10, Jay asks, "So what's it going to be, Sarah?" She opts for the road and we pull over beneath the overpass and unload her bongo, gui ar, army duffel and some knicknack bag. I'm personally amazed to see her gather all this on her person. I give her a hug and say I hope to see her further down the road. She says goodbye to all of us and trudges up the embankment, saying she'll probably j st sleep here tonight and hitch out in the morning. I tell Jay I'm impressed with her spirit and determination on such a long journey. He tells us the story that she was being hassled by a driver who wanted to "have sex with her". She told the guy to pull over and luckily he did, letting her get all her stuff out before he tore off. When Jay picked up Sarah, she was so hesitant and emotionally vulnerable, he had to call his wife on his cellphone so she could explain to Sarah that Jay was a good, married ma and would be nice to her. My heart went out with Sarah as we drove the dark, wooded highway toward Austin city limits- deer frozen on the side of the road in the momentary high beams of the van. Stopping for a chocolate milkshake Mitzi had promised me if I "got her to Austin tonight", we three talked together about traveling, websites, and the music scene in Austin. Jay plays out with a band in town occassionally. I told him I'd like to check it out so he told me he'd give me a business card with his emai address. Driving on, Fredericksburg was enchanting even from the main street of the highway, most buildings standing since the late 1800's with the trees of the hilly region rolling on between. Austin came up and I couldn't keep my eyes open. [to be continued AGAIN... out of time]

Wed. Jan 26/ 4pm - 01/26/00 22:58:42
My URL:www.austin360.com
Best Ride: one ride... Ft. Stockton to Austin by Jay and his band of hitchhikers
Sleep Location: Billy's in East Austin
Recent Job: cleaning man at the Austin hostel
Interesting Characters: Matthew the artfully aloof hosteller
Next Destination: here for awhile (New Orleans mid Feb)

Comments:
(retro entry from Friday, Jan. 21- Wednesday, Jan. 26).... When Mitzi and I saw the long, white van veering in our direction on the interstate, We hoped to God they were stopping for us and not breaking down or running us over. Indeed they were picking us up and a hippie chick in the passenger seat says to hop in, they're going to Austin along with a few hitchhikers. Turns out she WAS one of the hitchhikers, named Sarah. The other was our old-timer friend in the middle bench seat (damn I've forgotten his n me for the moment!) and Jay, our faithful driver who stops for anyone on the side of the road "until the day I get burned" he says. Mitzi and I are happy to be going all the way to the city of much anticipation. We sit in the furthest bench seat in the ba k amidst Sarah's bongo drum, guitar, and pack. She says she started out in British Columbia, came down through Albuquerque, and got a ride with Jay after El Paso, Texas. Old-timer sits quietly in his seat, probably thinking how uncanny it is to share a ri e with a vanfull of kids hitching the country on his turf. [entry cut short due to time limit at library... to be continued]

Friday, Jan 21 - 01/25/00 22:27:14
My URL:Fort Stockton
My Email:five
Best Ride: Carlsbad to Loving, NM with a awesome Texan
Worst Ride: Loving to Pecos, TX with a jampacked minivan and a fidgety 100 lb 8 year old weighing on my full bladder for 80 miles
Sleep Location: Wednesday, under a bridge in Carlsbad; Friday, in a Christian Men's Home in Pecos, TX
Recent Job: staying alive
Interesting Characters: The man from Loving; Joe at the Men's home
Next Destination: Austin

Comments:
[This is a retro journal entry since today is actually Jan. 25] Hitchhiking the back highways of New Mexico is a slow business. When Mitzi and I parted company with Steve and Cooper on Wednesday afternoon, I had mixed emotions. Sad to leave behind a friend and excellent travel partner, but also exhilarated to begin second leg of the trip- by thumb and foot. The first ride was a woman with a carful of kids, she was going about 10 miles down the road and we gratefully squeezed in to get us a little further out in the middle of nowhere. She actually gave us a couple b cks, saying, "Buy yourselves a Pepsi." Very gracious and a good sign for travels, though she also said, "People around here are assholes. Be careful out there." Dropped off near a reststop, our next ride was by a couple of Carlsbad men who stopped for a smoke break and decided to pick us up. They let us off at the closest edge of town at dusk. Turned out the town was longer than we thought. Walked about 3 miles b fore a man on foot told us about a good sleep hideaway under a bridge along the Pecos River. We scrunched ourselves in there. Mitzi was just following my lead and hoping I knew what the hell I was doing. We had the place to ourselves and bought a short bo tle of Jim Beam in celebration of our first night on the road on foot. In the morn, we walked further to the far edge of town and after much waiting and yo-yo-ing (I'm seriously hooked on my proyo from the yo-yo museum in Tucson) a man stopped for us and aid he'd help us get a better hitch point. We gladly agreed (I've never refused a ride and was not about to start then) and hopped in to a big, warm Texan's truck and had some nice chat for the dozen or so miles it took to get into Loving. He dropped us o f and handed Mitzi a five dollar bill, saying he wished he had more to offer. Both of us astounded, we thanked him and said a fiver would go plenty far. Standing at hour hitching point near the High School ("Home of the Falcons") we were all giddy to meet a cool guy and hopping around. 10 minutes later, he pulls up again with a bag of groceries! Seems he went to the local convenience store and picked up some road staples, including two personal pizzas- hot and wonderfully cheesy- crackers, chicken salad sp ead, cookies, and a few other things I cherished at the moment but now forget. Life was good; the road, grand. The wind, however, was uncommonly cold as the sun tucked away behind clouds most of the day and we waited for the seemingly never-coming ride. F nally about 2pm, a van pulled up and said they would take us as far as Pecos, TX (80-odd miles away) after they did some grocery shopping if we were still around. We thanked them and silently hoped someone would pick us up before their return in 2 hours, s we wanted to be in Ft. Stockton by night's end. No dice. We waited and wondered and I wandered up and down the sidewalk with my yo-yo rising and occassionally picking cotton of the side of the road and de-seeding and cleaning it and stuffing it into my ack for future use. Our Loving man comes back through with a daughter in the truck around 3pm and scratches his head and is surprised to still see us there. Says he'll check on us again later. And later he does, this time with another daughter in tow and tells us if we'd lik , he'll take us out to supper and put us up for the night in a motel. I feel guilty. This good man has given us money, food, earnest attention- and now he talks of shelling out maybe 50 bucks or more for us. I express my concerns and he says, "Hey, the mo ey's gonna be spent somewhere, it might as well go to a couple of travelers." I thank him and say if we haven't received a ride by sundown, we'll take him up on his offer. Mitzi looks at me like I'm an idiot even though she too has reservations about spen ing his money. Our van full of people is later than they said they'd be so we wonder if we're just delaying the inevitable: a good meal and warm, cozy motel womb. Now here we are hoping in our hearts no one picks us up before sundown when here comes the minivan, loaded to the gills with dogfood, toilet paper and kids and we forlornly stuff our packs in the back and a child chooses each of our laps for the moonride cross the border and into Texas. The big woman in the passenger seat warns me her son is heavy. When he sits on my lap and I remember I forgot to relieve my bladder before getting in, I know it's going to be a long ride. The way down, I acquaint myself w th all these honky-tonk accents and wonder to myself if all of Texas will moreorless talk this way. I enjoy it and some of the charm and friendliness that goes along with it. In Pecos, Pam- the driver- tells us about a Christian home that will take us in or the night. After she calls them on the phone, she comes out to tell us they can put us up for the night if we're married. "Are you married?" she asks. No, we say, but we're willing to say so. "Good," she says, "because I already told them you were." We re dropped off at the home and I tell Mitzi I'll answer all the married questions. We get there at the tail end of a bible study, and after a rather generic wrap-up, I sign us in as Mr. and Mrs. Morgan Strub. Is it so bad to say you're married when you re lly need a place to crash? I didn't have to go any further than that- no questions about how long we'd been married or the depths of our devotion to one another, just a generally curious question from the guys of where we were headed. Austin, I said (Mitz said no more than 3 words in public the entire time we were there. She was so afraid someone would catch us in a ruse) and that wasn't a lie as we both were heading there and I was going to be looking for work just as I told them. All worked well. We got a full dinner (porkchops, potatoes and peas with milk) and a big breakfast (all the blueberry pancakes one could eat). Said Joe, the main man, "There's only one rule at this table: If you go away hungry it's your own fault." After breakfast I did our laundry and then helped de-nail a few hundred planks and wood boards in the back yard for a couple hours. Joe gave us a ride to the edge of town after that. An hour of waiting and we were in the back of a truck heading finally to Fort Stockton, YeeHAW! Met another hitcher who also just got into town. He was hitchhiking to Louisiana, hoping to get on with a carnival going on down there. He asked if I ever carnied and I said no, but I'd sure like to give it a try one of these years- maybe run the hoops game or bring down the sledgehammer and ring the bell to win a prize. After Mitzi and I had sat around the gas station for several hours with a sign saying "I-10 East San Antonio or Austin" we decided to get on the actual interstate. There we met an old-timer just off the merging ramp who had been back and forth, up and down America many times and gave us a few tips about hitching from around here. I asked if the cops hassled him on the interstate. "Not in Texas," he said. Glad to hea it, I handed him a cigarette in the spirit of road comraderie and then Mitzi and I walked on to the next merging ramp a mile away. That's a rule in hitching. Let each man have his own ramp. Don't crowd another traveler. We plopped our stuff down at a res ectable spot and waited, hoping out loud we could get all the way to Austin or even San Antonio that night. Mitzi wanted some hippies to pick us up. Well sure enough an hour later a 7 passenger van stops for us and says the hippie chick in the passenger s at "We're going to Austin". Turns out she is a hitcher as also our old-timer buddy in the backseat. Jay, who works in El Paso and drives home to his family a couple weekends a month picks up every human he sees on the side of the road, so we happily tumbl in and prepare for the long ride to AUSTIN!

Jan. 19/ 11am? - 01/19/00 18:14:54
My URL:Roswell, NM (library)
Sleep Location: Bottomless Lakes State Park for free
Recent Job: working on it...
Interesting Characters: Cooper the freak-out-dog
Next Destination: Carlsbad and beyond

Comments:
We slept under the stars at Bottomless Lakes State Park for our last night together as a foursome. Steve is heading back to Los Angeles via Albuquerque, Flagstaff and on. Mitzi and I will hitchhike together as far as Austin then go our separate ways. We g t along well, but I know she feels I cramp her style (especially in a city) because 'hardcore' is just another adjective to me and not a lifestyle like it is to her. She has good insights, as does Steve. Last night we built a fire in the barbecue grill at our camp site and took turns telling stories, singing songs, reciting poetry. Our voices reflected off the dark water beside us. The ethereal feel of a near full moon and light rings in a partly cloudy sky was intensified by a couple of 40 oz beers we guz led. Seems we've become quite the drinking party, though none of us drank enough for more than a terrestrial buzz. No UFO's above us last night. Cooper was the only other-worldly one in our midst. He zipped around the campsite dragging his leash and gnawing on wood, licking empty beer bottles and snorting & growling at the water. He was as a puppy possessed and kept i up a little bit into the night as we zipped up in our bags for sleep. No tent, just three folks and a dog splayed out on a 8'x10' tarp. We had scored some free Domino's pizza earlier. Jesse, a road punk I hang out with in Boulder, CO last year taught me omino's is a good place to beg for pizza if you have a scuzzy appeal. It seems I did. The counter man gave me a leftover pepperoni pizza with 6 slices left and when I offered him a buck in a desperate gesture he refused it. So we had our pizza and beer at camp 15 miles outside of Roswell... glorious... The three of us are about to check out a marketing research firm to see if they need any surveys performed- on us or otherwise- then we go our respective ways. LEG 2 begins soon. See you all in Austin!

Jan. 18/ 5:30pm - 01/19/00 00:49:20
My URL:Roswell, NM
Sleep Location: The Lodge at Cloudcroft...fancy schmancy
Recent Job: none- no Labor Ready in Roswell!
Interesting Characters: Dark Horse in Las Cruces
Next Destination: Carlsbad, NM

Comments:
Our traveling clan arrived in Roswell about 2pm- drove right up Main Street and stopped at the International UFO Museum off 2nd Avenue. Inside, Steve and I each donated a buck to the cause since there was no admission charge and ambled on in to an old the ter building plugged to the gills with articles, posters, newspaper clippings, artwork and photos all geared to the resolute belief that not only do aliens exist, they have a particularly hard time navigating through the eastern deserts of New Mexico. It eems three UFO crashes are believed to have happened in the 40's outside of Roswell, the most popular one being an occurrence on July 4, 1947. In my mind it's no coincidence that this was a time in history the state was rife with governmental research and goings on- there's a fair-sized air base right on the edge of the town. Alien life? maybe... just not digging in the dirt of Roswell, in my opinion. The museum was interesting though and also showed photograph hoaxes where promoters of some alien paraphernalia would hold a scale model of a ufo between their camera and the sky and snap a picture. We'll be sleeping out of doors tonight anyway. The weath r is fairly warm- 64 degrees right now at 5:30pm- and so we'll gaze at the stars without a tent and seek out the otherworldlies. Speaking of which, we did score the suite at The Lodge at Cloudcroft (http://www.thelodge-nm.com) and had a fairly plush room complete with jet-spray hot tub in the bathroom, two televisions, a living room and bedroom with a king-sized bed. Cooper only so led the nice carpet several times- one of which I slipped some newspaper under his butt in the midst of his foul act. No signs of Rebecca, the supposed ghost who mischieviously haunts the halls and saloon of the hotel. Built around the turn of last centur , Rebecca was believed to be a chambermaid of the lodge in the 30's who disappeared after her lumberjack boyfriend discovered she had slept with another. There is an eerie charm about the place- from the unused tower we viewed with Steve's 'press credenti ls' to the authentic furniture and wooden everything throughout. The suite we stayed in goes for about $135 in winter, the off-season. Old snow was on the ground, but not enough to activate the small ski run a few miles down the road or keep the outdoor i e skating rink in business on a weekday. The temperature was cool but not biting. At over 8000 feet elevation, the town of Cloudcroft is a great climb above the New Mexican desert and into history. Tonight Steve, Mitzi and I will determine if we will be going our separate ways. Steve's been low on money and about ready to head back to Los Angeles where good things await him in TVLand. Mitzi and I will hitchhike toward the I-10 at Fort Stockton, Texa by back highways, passing through Carlsbad, NM. Steve may go as far as that with us. Either way, it's south I go, then eastward to Austin...

January 16/ 11am - 01/17/00 19:28:39
My URL:Las Cruces, cybercafe
Sleep Location: cheap motel near university
Recent Job: still none
Interesting Characters: the Indian couple who ran the motel
Next Destination: Cloudcroft, NM for free hotel room

Comments:
The three of us are still together- and Cooper the wonder dog. Last night we had the great idea to rent a motel room so we could watch Simpsons and X-files (and have our first night's sleep indoors). We bought some booze, SoCo and Dr. Pepper. Finishing th t off after X-files- a good episode- we went back to the store to buy rum, Coke, and Pop Rocks. Needless to say, we were all wasted, telling stories of crazy past lives, running away, being taken advantage of, and visions of the future. This morning we're all hung over as we sit at the cyber cafe checking email and connecting with the rest of the world. A funny thing, I told the motel owners there were only 2 people to use the room. They gave us 2 beds though for 28 bucks. In the morning the Indian couple were cleaning the rooms of the L-shaped motel outside our door and we were thinking how to get Coope out of the room without being discovered. Steve threw my overcoat on him and proceeded to the car. Cooper stuck his head out of the coat before getting in the car and the Indian woman yells, "You have a dog! Dogs are not allowed!" So, having been discove ed we all get in the car and try to ignore our headachey pangs of guilt. The owners call me back into the room to fetch the key for them and the man says dogs are not allowed in the room and he was told only 2 people were staying. I said the dog stayed mo tly in the car but of course he didn't buy it. A half-amused slow smile was on his face though, as if he knew nothing could be done at this point but admit he'd been hoodwinked. His wife was more severe in her admonishment and as we drove away she stared us down and probably was thinking to herself about all the nefarious smells lurking in the room she would have to search and destroy. Tonight we will be going to Cloudcroft, a ski resort town with a supposedly haunted lodge Steve wanted to check out. Using his L.A. connections, he has scored us a free room by saying he would write up a travel review for the hotel in a magazine he writes for. We'll get all the details soon- the town is about an hour and a half away. We still are doing the touristy thang, having gone through Tombstone after Tucson, then Truth or Consequences, NM for hot spring baths and travel company at the hostel in town. Good people there. Refreshing, steamed mineral water in concrete tubs on a cov red patio on the bank of the Rio Grande. We slept in a teepee on the property, having scored it for $25 bucks and some work around the property. Jane is an English woman who has been living at the hostel for 6 months and set us up with gardening and clean ng chores. She's an industrious woman probably in her late 30's who has issues with a few of the long term guests. Like Miacha, an older woman who is traveling the country at a leisurely pace and has been at the hostel for a couple weeks. Steve, Mitzi and I connected well with Miacha- Mitzi had met her at a communities gathering before and so it was an in that led to talk among us of travel, purpose, and personal growth. Miacha will spend much of the day writing out ideas on her bed in between morning and vening visits to the mineral baths. Because of a stroke she had some years back, she has little feeling and use of the right half of her body. Steve and I at different times piggy-backed her 50 feet to the baths. She also shared our food and continually b ought up issues and thoughts that occupied a lot of our time and attention. Jane was offended by the nature of Miacha and her occassional nudity around the baths. Jane bawled her out saying, "You know the rules! You can't take your clothes off in the bath ! If you want to be naked, go to a private spa!" We were all taken aback by Jane's outburst, but later she apologized to us (we were acutely aware she didn't apologize to Miacha) and said that we "didn't understand Miacha" like she did, implying the older woman was a user and burden on other guests. Everyone has their neuroses though, and there was good stuff in both women as well as loopiness. Well my time is up for now- until the next cybercafe... ciao

January 13th/ 3pm - 01/13/00 23:36:47
My URL:Tucson, Arizona
Sleep Location: Coronado Nat'l Forest near Tucson
Recent Job: none yet (selling cd's for cash)
Interesting Characters: Christopher the temporarily paranoid schizophrenic
Next Destination: Tombstone, Arizona

Comments:
Not much time to write here at the library. Just a quick note to say Mitzi, Steve, and I left Phoenix Tuesday night, picked up one hitchhiker, camped with one fellow traveller (Christopher, more about that later) and have seen a punk show at Double Zero. e camp by night and get house priveledges of Steve's cousin here in Tucson. Good times...