upton0goode

I'm no good at goodbyes. Linger over coffee and make promises I may not keep. A quick kiss on the lips and a profession of love catch me off guard. Homemade cookies as a going away present say more to me than any words can convey. I still took something intimate as I so often do. Walmart pit stop makes me into a guilty consumer, a half assed anarchist. I sold out when I paid for my food. Technology has me on a short leash, chained to my gadgets. I make excuses but their is no excuse for submitting to slavery of any kind. I'm not eating much but that's not a terrible thing when on the road. My appetites lie elsewhere, still unfed and left hungry. Liberation starvation. I'm agitated and irritated and I'm all alone. My tent is pitched at the base of mt Shasta. Moonlit walk along the railroad tracks. Creepy as fuck. There is something deadly just down the way. Everyone thinks I'm having fun but this trip is a matter of living or dying. I can't tell you why. Hawks have circled my path from the get go though, and this is always a positive omen. I retire to my tent and fall asleep to the intermittent sounds of passing trains.