Leather Tramping

I'm getting lost in the wild of Minnesota. I'll be traveling on my own two feet with nothing but the supplies on my back, a canoe, and two other souls. This is the closest I'll get to experiencing what it's like to be a leather tramp. I'll be MIA for about a week. So until then, I leave you with this famous quote from Christopher McCandless.

"Two years he walks the earth. No phone, no pool, no pets, no cigarettes. Ultimate freedom. An extremist. An aesthetic voyager whose home is the road. Escaped from Atlanta. Thou shalt not return, 'cause "the West is the best." And now after two rambling years comes the final and greatest adventure. The climactic battle to kill the false being within and victoriously conclude the spiritual pilgrimage. Ten days and nights of freight trains and hitchhiking bring him to the Great White North. No longer to be poisoned by civilization he flees, and walks alone upon the land to become lost in the wild." 

-Alexander Supertramp, May 1992

Daydream

I'm counting down the final hours of the trip to Minnesota. Brutality greeted me today with a teasing smile. It's sad to witness apathy as a common trait among people and I often feel sympathy for them for carrying this characteristic. I imagine to myself what would happen if I just let the wild take me as it's own. I would blend green with nature and be freed of obligations, society, and the meanness of others. The sweet imagery makes me smile. It would be such a great way to escape it all, to turn my back on what society feels is acceptable and open my arms to what is solid.

"Don't wake me, I plan on sleeping in."

There's just something about rainy mornings that make me feel at ease. It might be the gray haze cast against closed blinds making the atmosphere so completely perfect for napping. It could be the sound of gentle pitter patters of water droplets hitting the concrete through an open patio door. Or perhaps the distant rumbling of thunder. Whatever it may be, it brings a sort of heaviness to my body. A cozy heaviness that just successfully persuades you to stay in bed all day. And then when the pattering and rumbling ends, and the sun reaches its dimmed, yellow hand through the blinds- I suddenly feel energized, ready for the day. I am whatever the weather brings me.

A World Worn

Radiant seas salty and pure
tainted with night-
hug the fine edges of the earth
expanding from Her tears
And crisp air is a ghoul-
and he gobbles it up with greed
leaving soot in our mouths
Pain: sawing, metal pain She feels
All Her fallen children lay
in the back of a rusty old truck
And Her poor, precious creatures:
live in plastic packages
and run to continue existing
She holds an anguish unbearable to carry-
a rage as dangerous as a lightning storm-
and regret as deep as a wound
We were given a beloved gift
Entrusted with a glorious privilege
But we utilized it's properties
for our own gain
And now our world is worn and dying
Every minute it ages a decade
And when Her realm finally collapses-
It will be Mother Nature
to pick up the pieces once again

Pothole

I've gotten this far and my writer's block is beginning to push me back into doubting my writing skills once again. I need something. Anything. Anything at all that will enable me to spew ink on a blank page.

Breathing Again

I'm feeling content in this nap hazed room. Finally content with where my life is choosing to go. Though not completely at peace with where every aspect of it is going, but appeased enough to breathe that enormous sigh of relief. I sit and wonder to myself how much things will change for us when August rolls around. I've forgotten how it used to be long ago. Perhaps it won't be so terrible since we've experienced it before- the distance, the less time we can share together. But it's just something that I'll have to cope with. It will be difficult, like pulling apart two leeches accidently stuck together, but it will be possible. I just hope that where everything is going now leads to something good. I don't think I can take the weight of any more discouragement. It had once piled on so much that I was almost immobile.