4/3/08: Reaping the Carnie Harvest

** If read after the previous post, you'll notice an element of redundancy here. However, this is a monumental entry. I took the previous entry and expanded on many of the most significant ideas: constructive writing at its best. Many of these conclusions will sound VERY familiar to regular followers! **- tzx 1/26/10

Time to process. Back from Texas and Louisiana early yesterday morning. I was gone exactly 2 weeks and an eventful packed two weeks it was. I was pretty good about writing while I was gone and wrote 12-pages in the travel journal yesterday alone, wrapping up the last weekend and the events that sent me back so soon. I won't rehash everything here, but I do need to get some ideas straight.

There are some great things that happened. I met some terrific people and more than my other trips, stuck things out and learned so much about who I have become. Perspective? Frame of reference? Call it what you want, but seeing how I am around these folks as a way of comparison to how I was -- is significant. I was a leader. Able to offer guidance and, most surprisingly, I seemed to attract people. At least certain types. Those who, like me, seem to be searching for something intangible. And the fiercely independent.

Obvious examples are Jimmy and Steve. They were two people who like me refused to just "accept" what was going on with the drug-culture in camp. Steve more so than Jimmy, although he too abhorred drugs. Steve was a guy who I really identified with; Jimmy too, but he initially seemed to come along for the ride -- an afterthought while in Odessa. I admired Steve's independence, and he reflected mine. I still regret what happened with him, although it may have been best. With all the drama in Louisiana -- he may have combusted. I've still not talked to him since we separated at the Dallas bus station, and have a nagging feeling I won't.

Jimmy turned out to be a bit of a Jekyll/Hyde. He had three distinct personalities. Wise, disconnected, drunk. The trip from Odessa to New Orleans was enjoyable, and the Easter Sunday we three spent next to the Mississippi was -- magical. Such peace, serenity -- authenticity. At that moment, I literally thought I was already on my trip! If I had chosen, I could have been. I was ready to leave that day, and I wanted the three of us to make our way out, hoping to repeat the feelings we had that day-- everyday. I'll never forget that. It's something that set a tone for me, and I'm afraid that I've let that fade a bit.

Yet, as special as that day was, it was its negativity that set the lasting metaphor for what was to come. Something beautiful and pure destroyed by its environment; the negativity. Tricia and I both noticed it when we left the levee, crossed the road, and reentered camp: the magic vanished. More than vanished. It was replaced in kind by something black. As good as it was by the river, it was equally as bad in camp. That, for the most part, never ended and I saw it to the extreme that last day with the kitten.

Tricia could never break free from it. She's used to it, and doesn't know how to exist outside of it.

James? It led him to just drink to try to figure it out. He was like me, though -- experiencing everything and trying to solve it.

Jimmy? I'm not sure. He wasn't the same after that Sunday -- although there were glimpses. He seemed to disengage. Maybe he felt what I did, and that was his way of protecting himself from it? But, from what I saw that last Monday, then heard on the phone from James last night, he's not dealing -- but drinking. I couldn't communicate with him before I left on Monday due to the whiskey, although I could tell he was upset I was leaving. It came on so quickly -- no advance warning -- even to myself. I hope he's okay and things go well for him, but I'm unconvinced that they will. He has demons I can't comprehend. Jimmy's a vast resource of wisdom, but also an obvious alcoholic. I could go no further with him, and hypocritical or not, couldn't deal with him drunk. That friendship could've gone a great deal further, but as it turned out, we were "like minds running parallel for a while." I gave him my number and hope I hear from him again. I'm pretty sure I won't. I wish him well.

Tricia was frustrating. But, I was naive. I found something beautiful in her on Easter, but never saw it on full display again. I'd see glimpses, as with Jimmy, but she'd always revert back to her comfortable perch. We would have long conversations and I would try to offer insights from my own experience, sincerely trying to help but eventually I came to a significant conclusion; one that's elementary and one that's plagued me:

***Taking your opportunities and doing something with them. Having a willingness to act; do a bit more than complaining. I equate it to a combination of following The Voice and freewill. The Voice only guides; it's up to you to do something with it. Waiting for passive enlightenment? You'll wait forever. Enlightenment is like wisdom v. knowledge (Thamus). You achieve enlightenment ONLY through action and experience; masturbation-- mental or otherwise-- conceives nothing. Enlightenment doesn't come via writing, talking, reading...these things offer tools to guide you to action, but without action they're nothing but nice ideas. Pretty, clever, contrived words. Words without action are like an owner's manual without a car. What are you supposed to do? Pretend you're driving? Action and experience are infinitely more important than idle words. My ideas served me well on this trip. Very well. Yet, without the action aspect of learning ? I'd still be sitting here...wondering.***

I saw this unwillingness to act in Tricia, and got to the point were I concluded it was hopeless. She didn't want to do what it took to live in that "energy" we found by the levee that day; she didn't believe she could. Maybe a seed was planted, and maybe someday she will. She's one of the few, yet still significant percentage who are...I'll no longer call it enlightened..."touched?" They just feel it, and can access it when the environment is right. I believe Steve is touched. Jimmy. James. I was gone for 14 days, and found four in the first four days! Any of which could have shared my experience; in fact they were.

These are the people I seek and keep finding, and what's more: they respond. To be honest, I wasn't exactly prepared for that! I thought that this may likely be a lonely journey. Finding as many as I did, coupled with some heightened sense of confidence, boldness, even courage...I felt like a pillar of strength for once, as arrogant as that sounds. Teflon. I was content to, even enjoyed, sitting alone rather than subjugating myself to those who either expected subjugation or I didn't respect.

And the honesty! Timmy was a great example. I told him, bluntly, that I neither liked nor wanted to hang out with him. I did so on his prompting and in front of his people. I walked it. He had no clue what to say, do, or how to handle me because I wasn't to be "handled." I haven't quite put it all together, but I've found something. Tapped into it. I need to build on it; be unafraid to blaze that trail, alone if necessary.That's what I really gained from this. Knowing my ideas or solid, they apply to masses; the experience as a whole gave me this. Not philosophizing. Experience: McCandless's "essence of life." I wonder what this experience would've been in a positive environment? One in which the beauty in life wasn't squashed by overwhelming negativity.The insights would have been skewed. Likely, it all happened as it should.

I became overwhelmed when the trailer dropped on the kitten. That devastated me. I had known for a few days that my time there was ending, but had resolved to try to last through Baton Rouge. I was thrilled to find that kitten scampering around, and got lost playing with her. She was a very sweet cat that loved people and brought in the first real, pure joy and beauty since the river. I was happy, tuned in and reminded of home and my own cats.

Then out of nowhere, the Kraken strikes. Suddenly I saw her pinned beneath the trailer, crying horrifically, then running as though her back was broken. I still can't describe what I felt. Horror. I couldn't cope with that. In some odd way, it was like seeing Gage hit by the truck in Pet Semetery. When I heard the others running-fugitive rather than helping, and worrying more about how Dave would react rather than trying to help his pet survive, I became sickened, disgusted, and had to get away from there. When Chris said, "It's time to snap its neck" I wanted to snap his. I was literally frightened of myself. Are these fucking people human? My conclusion: no.

Once I announced I was leaving, Jimmy said, if I left. I'd be "in danger." Of course, he was lit up. Tricia also said she had a "bad feeling" too, but couldn't explain it. I think they were feeling their own premonitions. James called last night and told me that Jimmy has been drunk since I left and was "pissing people off." I felt a bit uneasy about the decision until we are on the way to Greyhound and it occurred that the cat was a powerful metaphor. It may not have been just that, but it brought home the vision of everything pure, and beautiful being crushed. Tricia, The River, Jimmy, James... I tried to convey the thought but failed miserably.

With this, I knew I was making the right choice. I was touched by the fact that Tricia, James, Toby, Chris, and Gabby all rode with me to Greyhound. The ride was a bit odd, and departure anti-climatic. Tricia was upset that I didn't give her my number, but something told me not to. I really do not want her drama following me, especially when she refuses to handle it herself.

The bus home was a mixed bag. Of course, the vision and feelings about the cat were there, but also some good feelings about my personal revelations. The strongest feelings, and they still linger today, were about the cat. I see her happy eyes, hear her purr, see her playing...jumping at that damn stick. Then I see that trailer crushing her. I see her running cockeyed. I see her lying beneath that trailer. I cursed any "God" who would let something like that happen. I still can't reconcile it. I know it was an accident; a terrible one, but I hate it to my core. I don't even remember anything affecting me like that on 9/11! What does that say?!? It's because of the cat's innocence; its joy. It's since become obvious that perhaps I should consider getting involved rescuing... cats? Duh! I love the things for whatever reason, and always have.

I can also say that after Texas & Louisiana, I appreciate the tranquility here much more. "He wants his home and security... he wants to live like a sailor and sea." Since returning, I've been questioning the hiking trip--that's not good. It's going to rear its head again sooner or later. I feel as though I'm a short step from being able to settle down a bit and I hate what leaving does to Laina, even though I can't help it: the alternative is no option. I'm not in a place to parse-then-expand that thought just yet, but rest assured the next few pages should be good readin'. I feel at ease here, and know things are about to change for the better -- one way or another.

I'm supposed to know something from Michigan [job] in the next week or so, and the weather is warming up nicely. I don't know exactly what's going to happen, but this year's adventures have probably only just begun. [there's an understatement!] The bus trip, other than the image-induced mental torture, was pretty uneventful. I met an interesting guy from Texas named Dan. He's 57 and spent 20 years as a cop. He reminded me of Clint Hurdle. Dan seems to be a typical Texas conservative; voted Bush twice! Yet -- amazingly our views were similar. We spent the two or three hours from Dallas to Wichita Falls chatting about life, politics, and the coming economic disaster. My "impending doom." I really enjoyed the conversation; it solidified to me that truth owes no ideology. Is bound by no doctrine. I was glad to have had that talk, and again felt better about my experience and my ideas.

Yet again -- an example of testing ideas through experience. Maybe I have indeed finally turned that page? Idea v. Experience. Is it knowledge to wisdom? Or, simply data to knowledge?

This was far different from my other little expeditions. I'm now not exactly sure how to approach the next phase, but considering I've written almost 7-pages on this, and have come out of this feeling much better, it would seem silly to stop now. The job in Michigan won't last long. Long enough to take care of things: gear up, and depart.

I must do this. If I don't, I'll never find peace. It may indeed kill me, but if it does rest assured it's better than living with the turmoil and sense of dissatisfaction. If I come out the other side, and do it right, I may indeed be able to focus on a family. If I don't do this? I don't believe, even despite this current state of calm, that anyone will ever be able to rely on me. I can't help that, therefore I refuse to beat myself up for it. It simply must happen.

I'm seeking that "peace of the river." Calm. The inner tranquility that comes from acceptance of myself and my life. The beauty and purity of the cat. I have all of these elements in this house, and I know it. Yet -- I need inner peace to be able to be that kind of entity myself. I'm getting closer, and may have just taken a nice jump in the right direction.

We'll see...

4/2/08: Baton Rouge-The Cat

Saturday was a rather long, boring day. We started at noon and ran rides all day, until 10 pm. We were up late Friday drinking beer and chatting with Tricia, Toby, Andy, and James. We all seemed to relish the idea that there was no drama to deal with. It was a nice night. I finally got to bed around 3:30 or so.

The 10:00 close was a bit of a surprise, but really no big deal. The crowd was sketchy, but picked up toward the evening because of some on/off rain earlier. I got to bed early both because I was tired and Sunday was tear-down day, after we had already worked all day. The worst day of every week. The Carnie life is indeed for me...

Sunday was interesting. I was ready to leave then. I woke up ornery and fed-up. I called Laina, Brian, and Joey and tried to get as much info as I could. I found that I am still supposedly "on track" for the job in Michigan. Laina and I decided, in a roundabout way, that I would try to stick out another week, since Monday through Wednesday would be easy -- with the exception of set up in Baton Rouge. I also discussed possibly getting my little group together -- Toby, Gabby, Jimmy, James, and Tricia -- to join a group out in California. That sounded good, but the idea in the end went nowhere.

Tear down was long, hard, frustrating...and encouraging. Reminded me of my boot camp days: working through exhaustion. Jimmy, Andy, and I tore down the Merry-Go-Round in five hours or so...then had to help other slackers...despite the fact that ours was by far the hardest and most complicated of any of them. We finally finished around 3 am. I went straight to bed, but as tired as I was, had trouble getting to sleep. My body seemed to hold up well, although I was definitely sore.

We all slept in Monday, bummed around for a few hours, then finally got the bunkhouses prepped and jumped from Ethel to south Baton Rouge -- about an hour down the road. I was still envisioning at least getting through the week, but the first seed to leave was planted when I got "paid" before we left Ethel. I got a whopping $126. I had taken $75 in "draws," was charged $25 for my shirt, and taxed $60. It could have been worse I guess, and had no real logical complaints about the pay, until I thought about the hours put in to get it!

There was a touch of drama Sunday with Willie after hearing a rumor that we were "renting" our bunkhouses; twinges of Odessa. He and I resolved it quickly, it was just typical camp bullshit. I also addressed my problems with Timmy and discovered he was, in Willie's words, an "errand boy" despite his claims to be a "supervisor". More shrapnel to throw at him. I never liked Timmy because of his mouth and underhanded nature and, despite his posturing as someone important, I never had a problem telling him so. No one else dared to force his hand, and he just couldn't figure that out; he never knew how to approach me. More on that in a bit.

I discovered a lot about myself by way of perspective. How far I've really come, and how I can influence people and have impact when I'm focused. I'm not so diluted to say that influence was significant, but I noticed that people here gravitated to me -- despite my perceived "rudeness!" Much more needs to be processed in my other journal. Not the time yet.

I really enjoyed my conversations with Jimmy when he was sober, although after we got to Ethel, he seemed to disconnect. James and I seemed to connect well also, and had some deep, philosophical conversations. Amazing to find a guy with a biology degree in that setting. He was the most like me, admitted to alcohol problems and is, or least was, guarded. I'd be interested to see what happens with him.

Monday was a day that was disturbing for lack of a better term today. It rattled me, and exposed a raw nerve.

We got to Baton Rouge, and of course things were typically dragging along. Trouble getting the electricity and water going so people were going to the stores, sitting around, killing time. Typical. I didn't like the vibe from the start. Not something I can explain, but we were adjacent to the projects, set up the dirt, and other crews were showing up periodically.

A guy named Dave, who was at Winter Quarters in New Orleans was here and had brought his two young cats with him. I was very happy to see them running around! It was something nice, pure, and real in what was a toxic environment thriving on negativity. I started playing with one of them, a very energetic and friendly calico who loved playing with a stick I had found. The other one was a dark gray with tinges of orange and, like the calico, had his tail clipped. This gray was skittish, but was warming up to me when one of the most horrible and disturbing things I have ever seen happened. It pains me to think, let alone write, about it and -- I hate repeating myself -- still disturbs me whenever I even think about it.

The kittens had taken a break, and I was sitting against a chain-link fence chatting. When James sat down on the lemonade trailer in front of me. The trailer wasn't on blocks, and when someone sat on the back edge it would tip on its wheels -- and hit the ground. The calico kitten was underneath and the trailer's rear edge -- loaded with the lemonade stand -- landed flush across her back/mid-section.I heard her howl, people yell, then lifted the trailer. The kitten took off running, but not... running. She could not coordinate her front and back legs and ran with her rear legs cockeyed; nearly 45-degrees to one side. She seemed at first as though her back was broken.

I'd never felt what I felt at that moment. I couldn't deal with it. I remember yelling, "God fucking dammit!" and, "No! No! No!" I felt it in my lungs, stomach; all through my body. I don't even know what "it" was. It was just something I...couldn't handle. I was just playing with her, getting attached, and enjoying something...pure. Then, that place almost literally killed it. It was the same blackness as Easter Sunday by the river: it seemed to have a way of brutally destroying anything positive.

I pulled myself together and found the cat lying beneath the lemonade stand's trailer having difficulty breathing... and crying. Then came what finally drove me out of this place. People running away like children! They acted as if they were kids who busted the neighbor's window! "Let's get to the store! Let's get out of here! We didn't see anything! He's gonna flip!" When I heard Chris say, "it's time to snap its neck" I about snapped myself. I said nothing because by then it occurred to me that, after seeing her run, she may not have broken her back, but perhaps ribs and needed a vet. When Chris reached to grab her, I told him to "get the fuck away from her" then tried to rally people to get her to a veterinarian. Then, the final straw: Andy bitching about who's going to pay the bill! I forget who, but someone took control, got a milk crate, and got into the van to supposedly find a vet, but it was 6 pm and no one knew anything about Baton Rouge. How were they going to find a vet? They weren't.

That was it.

I called Laina and talk it over with her. What I just seen, the realization of how little money I was able to save -- and the disgust I felt for "these people" after this -- I was leaving. She agreed, checked the schedules, and we decided I would leave on a 12:30 am bus from Baton Rouge that night. I went over to the football field adjacent to camp to talk to Jimmy, who was drinking Jim Beam and already annihilated. I wish he hadn't been. I couldn't talk to him when he was drunk. He tried to talk me out of leaving for his own reasons; had he been sober he would've understood. I talked to Willie right after, and he was very cool about it, giving me $25 for my shirt, but no money for Monday. Not that I did anything anyhow!

I went back to the bunkhouse and started sorting, packing, and since we had just been paid... selling shit. I sold my Merrill hiking shoes to Andy for $20, by old, comfy Nike running shoes for $10, and left some work jeans and other odds and ends for Jimmy. The pack was seven or 8 pounds lighter than what I arrived, and I was glad. As the word spread that I was leaving, people are asking why, but I was unable to really explain it. I just kept saying, "I have to." I would hit on it later, on the way to the Greyhound station. But, at the time, I just wanted out. It was actually a nice two or three hours waiting to leave. It felt good, despite the immediate reasons behind it. I asked Gabby to drive me into Baton Rouge, instead of Timmy, and she agreed. I was beyond grateful, and I'm sure Timmy was, too! Then, James asked if he could go, and of course Tricia came. Toby and Chris too. We left Jimmy behind because he was too obliterated.

The atmosphere in the van was a quieter than I expected, but no one had a lot, or knew what, to say. It occurred to me, as I mentioned, what had happened, or at least how it hit me. The cat was not only a personally perceived tragedy, but a metaphor for the whole place and the energy it attracts. It seemed to kill anything good, gentle, and/or real; allowed nothing positive to thrive. I'm reminded of the day by the river with Tricia and Jimmy. We were all at peace until we crossed that road, and all of that positive energy was instantaneously replaced by something sinister. We even noticed it in the moment and commented on it. We were never able to get around or through it. When I saw the kitten hurt, after bringing some joy into that camp, and my world, for a while -- I couldn't be immersed in it any longer.

When we finally got to the bus station, I was struck that these people had wanted to ride into Baton Rouge, not for the road trip, but to see me off! I was touched by that, particularly because of my history with people over the last few years, but I politely refused to give Tricia my phone number. That upset her great deal. As cruel as it may be, I don't think I want to deal with her. She's a great person who is lost in her mind; lost in her world, and wants to stay there. She's afraid to step out of it. I really don't want the drunken phone calls in the middle of the night, or any of that. I may call her in a week or two to see how she's doing. We'll see. I did however give my number to James, to keep one line of communication open.

The ride out of Baton Rouge was weird. That vision of the cat, and that I later saw her with Patches -- wheezing -- because they couldn't, or wouldn't, try to find a veterinarian, hit me hard.

Then, I started thinking about the friendships I had developed in the two weeks I was gone, and more importantly -- why. Some names to remember: Andy -- the insane, wanted felon. Bob -- the basketball-game guy. Jason -- Timmy's boyfriend, and really a decent guy. Brandi -- the obese, slutty, 18-year-old idiot, who talks like a retarded racist. I never did get ahold of Steve in Oklahoma. May not, but I'd love to know how he's doing.

From Baton Rouge, we went to Houston then Dallas. I met a very interesting guy at the Dallas Greyhound who reminded me a bit of Clint Hurdle, of all people. He was 57, from north-central Texas, and heading to Roswell on business. We talked about many of things, mostly the failing economy, on our ride from Dallas to Wichita Falls. I found it interesting that I could relate to a Texas conservative who spent 20 years as a cop just as well, if not better, than the hippies I have run into! He even shared many of my views on life, technology, sociology, etc.. These ideas are not ideology. I wish I could have spent more time chatting with him. He reminded me of what Jimmy kept saying: "listen to the older folks, heed your elders." I'm glad I met him. His name was Dan.

Not much on the hike again today, but that's not done. In fact, I'm now much more confident about it, and need to see what happens with Michigan.

An interesting experience comes to a close. Glad I did it.

3/28/08: Ethel, LA-Carnie Life

Been gone 10 days already. It's been a week since we all left Odessa. Time has compressed; a lot happens in a short space of time. I feel like I've known Jimmy for six months or a year, and it's only been barely a week. Tricia -- same thing. I feel as though we've run a full two-month cycle in six days. When you're in each others face all day I guess that happens.

I can see how a person could lose track of days, weeks, even months out here. I haven't watched TV or listened to a radio since I left; have no idea what's going on anywhere. This is the world to these folks and it's not a bad way to live once you adapt. I think the trick is finding balance in the sense that you remember: this isn't the world! It is easy to get caught up in the camp drama, which is worse when everyone's idle. Once we start working people get focused on other things and forget, for the moment, all the bullshit.

The mix of people is interesting. Convicts, punks, philosophers, thinkers, feelers, recluses. It's a challenge for many of them to mesh and get along, but although the "dogs bark," they seem to work it out. There really are no leaders, work or otherwise, among this crew; Willie is the foundation and a rock solid one. He's the lighthouse that provides guidance for many of these fragile types who easily stray off course. I learned that he provided dental work for one of them; could never see Charles doing that.

Tuesday's set-up wiped me out! I wasn't feeling great to begin with, and hauling the heavy pieces for the Merry-Go-Round pushed me. My back held up and was nothing more than stiff on Wednesday. We finished setting up Wednesday, tweaked a couple things yesterday, then a much anticipated laundry/Wal-Mart run. I needed socks, Motrin, and some aloe for this vicious sunburn on my neck. After resting up for a bit, we opened at five o'clock yesterday. I was on a kiddie ride: The Berry-Go-Round. It was easy -- even boring. Lotsa single moms to chat with; some even with teeth!

What struck me was the people. Louisiana is a very friendly and polite state. The poverty here is striking, yet the people have an air of both frustration and happiness. Resignation, yet acceptance. That was only one day, of course, and may change. But it's something I repeatedly noticed. The poverty, especially. Kids offering to work, in exchange for free rides! (They got quite a few) Calling me "sir!" It's pretty obvious that this is a huge event out here, as small as our outfit really is. We are situated on the grounds of a church camp that I learned is for the kids "no other churches want." Drugs...whatever. The pastor is a Vietnam vet who seems to view the government the same way I do, and intensely feels social injustice. I immensely enjoyed hearing him talk -- almost rant.

My time here will depend on me. The work is easy most of the time, and I'm adapting more each day. I'm afraid I won't save much money, though, so if the chance at [the supposed job in] Michigan comes, I'll probably take it. I'm in cruise control about the hike since Sunday. It still is the long-term vision. Need to refocus on that...

3/24/08: Ethel, LA-Reflection in a New Mirror

We packed and "jumped" up here this morning/afternoon. We're through Baton Rouge, and in the middle of nowhere. Reminds me a little of Michigan in how green and rural it is, and the actual location reminds me of some of the New Mexico holes-in-the-wall. I guess we'll set up shop here through the weekend, then go back to Baton Rouge for a time.

Nothing much is happening today at all. Willie is most definitely organized and, so far, outside of the pseudo-drama. I can handle this. I'm obviously seeing some places I'd never go otherwise, and there are some good people here. I'm slowly adjusting and getting used to everything and everyone. I've yet to read one page in a week, and plotting what to mail home.

Tricia and I were on the verge; one push away-- from stepping off of here. The Synchronicity aspect of things was a hot topic yesterday, and still is in a way. It occurred to me that the trip I foresaw had already begun. Maybe I won't be going "back." I seem to have found a travel partner or two if things were to start today, but then again we've had a lot of idle time. When things get busy people -- including me -- may revert back to their individual ideas.

Tricia is a bit of a split personality depending on who she's with. Yesterday was incredibly cool, but last night she ran to her gin and there was the carnie redneck again. She doesn't seem to know exactly who she is. Who does at 22? Jimmy's a bit different, and I'm not sure how our story is going to to end. He's 46, smart in a lot of ways, and seemingly a good friend. Yet, yesterday annoyed me. A lot. All day drunks just bug me now. I'm sick of his "taking care of each other" line, which equates to me buying his shit, giving him cigarettes, and then having his sloppy, drunken ass spill beer on me!

Karma's paying me back. The bitch.

I'm not sure what to make of this part of my personality. It's quite surprising, and I don't like the hypocritical and judgmental tendencies. I've found new things about myself; some very good. I have discipline all of the sudden. And, I seem to be pretty focused and anxious to start my trip. I've been more open and honest with people than I remember...with the exception of Skippy. That honesty is at times a blunt hammer. I've gotten quite terse with Jimmy over the last two days and my impatience and temper with the Killer Queens needs checking. I'm sick of Timmy's posturing displays, and it's obvious that despite the bark, he'll cower at a challenging growl. We're about to find out. Yet, I seem to have settled in here for the near future. I need money. I've found a few good people, even heard from Steve today. This may be home for little while.

3/23/08: A New Orleans Easter-Jimmy & Trisha

**It's poorly articulated here, but this would turn out to be one of those monumental days that resound and echo indefinitely.**

Well...things here are different! Jimmy and I got what we were looking for: a change from Odessa, and we got it for sure!

This outfit is much smaller and much less...intense...then Texas. We got into New Orleans on-time, called Willie from the bus station, he then sent two guys to pick us up. The vibe was instantly better. Much more positive. We both had a great feeling about this decision and were quite happy to get here. We chatted with Willie in person on Saturday, and since today is Easter and his family is here, haven't really seen him since.

We all seemed to get along well last night and met some pretty good people, one in particular--Tricia. She would seem to be in the same mold as Carrie and Sarah, yet a great deal different. She is exactly the opposite of those two in almost every way! She's from Little Rock, Arkansas and just a good ol' girl. Yet, she's also tuned in. She "gets it"--doesn't realize it--yet she does. She's aware and trying to process and define what she's aware of. Been there. She wants to travel; suffers from that same affliction I do. She's frustrated and seems ready to do something about it. It was odd when I first got here; we were immediately drawn (not physically...pervert) to each other. It's like there is an internal guide pointing out the right people and the situations in which to find them. My mystical senses are returning to a degree; paying attention to these "coincidences." Steve, Jim, Tricia. I thoroughly enjoyed this trip so far, for the most part.

There are some twisted, ironic, some would say comical shades McComb [MS, 2005, following Katrina] here in relation to my friendship with Trish. The gay guys here are pissed off! And, so are the straight ones! The gay guys are gnarled up because they viewed me as their "fresh fish!" Of course, the breeders are pissed off because they've been trying to get on Tricia since she first got here and now she's begun to use me as sort of a shield! I find it hilarious! There are rumors etc. already; it's pretty pathetic and drives me up the wall.

I'm getting in tune with myself too, I'm aware of my reactions to all of this. My mindset is slowly adapting to my surroundings and my tolerance level is sinking. I have become more aware of who I am and how that differs from past experiences. My personality also seems to be changing more & more as I adapt. I've become more honest, much more open with some people, and seem to have developed some bizarre leadership qualities from my experiences over the past few years. I don't bother with the idiots, charlatans, posers and punks. I blatantly disengage from them and gravitate back to the ones that posses some kind of character and honesty; and I don't care about hurting feelings in the process. I'm looking for "my people" and not really bothering with the rest.

I feel myself becoming more a more direct. For example, Jimmy drank pretty much all day [after the levee experience-below], and it bothered me. Not that he drank, but that he drank and was trying to communicate. I can't hold any of that against him, but it's a mirror of myself from not so long ago. I can't stand being sober and dealing with drunks anymore. In fact, it's been a long time since I could, but now I have next to no tolerance. I'm doing to some people what Danny, Dyson, Jason, Greg, and others did to me: judging. I don't really like that, but it's happening. Tricia got lit up tonight and was passed out by 7:30. After the day we had, it was a study in extremes and bothered me a bit, although I was more forgiving of her because in the short time I've been here, our friendship has caused her much grief for no reason, and she needed the escape.

I have hardly eaten anything since leaving NM last week; I'd love to get on a scale. I must be in that 165-pound range by now. I've had 2 cups of Ramen Noodles today, and a few M&Ms. I've also discovered how much shit I really do have... and shouldn't. My backpack is 45 pounds, and I need to ship some stuff home. It's rather hard to keep all that shit organized, let alone keep track of it.

Today was an interesting, enlightening, and frustrating day all wrapped into one. Jimmy took Tricia and I across the adjacent road to the levee the banks of the Mississippi River, letting us sit in on one of his Indian rituals where he says he "asks the spirits for guidance." We sat inside of a natural circle depressed into the grass, and just talked and bonded -- just the three of us. Afterwards he said our Indian names were Little Feather and Runs with the Wind. While I sat there playing with a twig, they both looked at me with an odd, astonished look and said I was doing some kind of Indian weave -- something I had never heard of. I really had no idea what I was doing, but just thought it looked cool. We went out there about 9:30 and didn't come back -- didn't leave the circle -- until 3:30. Just talking, lying on the grass in the sun. Had the day ended then, it was one of the best of days. I felt so at peace and comfortable...with both myself and them. It was a tiny taste of that experience I've been craving. No distractions or bullshit obligations. Just me, my people, and out in my place being -- me. It was the closest thing to Nirvana I can probably get, and it occurred to me that I may have already started my adventure. I felt free and unmolested!

Then, as soon as we rejoined the herd, a relative black energy/vibe returned. As soon as we crossed the road! I won't elaborate on more of the drama inside Winter Quarters this Easter Night, but it provided something that, using the first part of the day, could have been a case study in extremes. It got to the point where Trish and I discussed, and even tentatively decided, to leave here tomorrow and "just go." She says she wants to today. She says she wants to go with me when I/we begin my/our trip. But, of course she'd like to work it out so we stay on for a few months to get cash together.

We'd both like Jimmy to be with us if he chooses to, and if today was an anomaly (the drinking). If not, I don't think we will be doing anything together after New Orleans is done. He's a wonderful guy, yet one who's battling something within. He has much to offer, yet also has that self-destructive air about him when he drinks. If both he and Tricia could keep handles on that, I'd be fine and would love for us to keep it together.

The view from here regarding the "backpack trip" is a bit different. I could see the three of us doing it, but believe Jimmy will carry on his way. And Tricia may remain here, or just go home to be near her son in Arkansas. I don't really know. I just feel that I've met some wonderful people in the five short days I've been gone. I feel like I'm on the right course and can see some possibilities. It'll be interesting to see what else develops. So far, this trip's been exactly what I need, and I still find it remarkable that I'm in New Orleans. New Mexico feels remote and far away today. We'll see how it all goes; off to Baton Rouge in the morning.

3/22/08: Escape from Odessa-Jimmy & Steve

Greyhound between Baton Rouge and New Orleans, Louisiana

Long story short: I met two other guys. Jimmy and Steve are both from Oklahoma, and after Steve was pushed for the 5th time to buy cocaine, we called Mike [recruiter] told him what was going on, and requested that he get us out of there. We all decided to ride together to New Orleans and hook up with another outfit with a friend of Mike's named Willie.

I asked direct questions and let those two listen so they could decide for themselves. Mike bought the tickets, we packed up, and while we were waiting Steve's mother called to tell him that his father had died!

Of course, that sent him back to Oklahoma. Steve's a lot like me with the indecisiveness, only worse! And much more tentative. He's just a country boy who's never been away for long, so he was apprehensive. It may have been good for him to come down here and live a little, and he still may. I sensed something familiar in him, and deeply respected his independence. The three of us had a nice synergy, and could have been good friends--all of us. I'm rather surprised at how good of friends we became anyhow. I hope things in New Orleans are as Willie and Mike say they are, and if so, I also hope that Steve comes down here in a couple of weeks.

Jimmy and I are very similar in many ways, although our backgrounds are very different. He's Chickasha Indian and abhors drugs because his son committed suicide while on them. That was the common thread between we three that got us hanging out in the first place. We were the minority who weren't looking to work then simply get fucked up up afterwards--calling that life. Wash-rinse-repeat. One of my goals/hopes was to find some like-minded people I could relate to, and after 2 1/2 days in a traveling drug-den, I found some. That's encouraging.

Jimmy's 46, and has been living a nomadic life for some time now. He's been all over and has tons of experience that he's willing to share. He's respectful, and deserves respect. We talked a lot last night between Odessa and Dallas having much to chat about; our ideas parallel each other in many ways. Like me, he relishes freedom above most everything. We are both cautiously excited about New Orleans and since we have the night off, and a little money, are planning on Bourbon Street later tonight.

To put a bow on the Odessa experience, they did pay us what they owed us, minus $15 for "rent" in the bunkhouse: another monetary surprise. In retrospect it was fitting! Outside of the drug culture, the main theme of that outfit was the fact that they found new and exciting ways, everyday, to surprise you with new ways to shrink your paycheck! "Paying the bus ticket", "security deposit", "key deposit, shirt, etc.... none of which was explained beforehand. Then condescending and indignant when you asked questions. No leadership. People screaming and knife fighting and 5 a.m. outside the bunkhouses. (I was more concerned with the screaming--if someone was cut, eventually they'd at least be quiet) To be fair, it is the stereotype and not completely unexpected; just not for me.

Despite all that, I told Jimmy last night I wouldn't trade it. I did meet some good people, and most importantly I didn't run home, although the thought did occur to me Thursday! I got through it and found that I enjoyed the actual work--when the public's there. I made a little money, and am now having another experience in New Orleans. My spirit through all of this has been remarkably high -- even through the bullshit. I feel in control of my life, and at ease with myself, my surroundings and others. Looking forward. Let's see what happens in New Orleans...

3/21/08: Odessa, TX- Meet the Carnie

Odessa, Texas
Greyhound station

I haven't written in this [travel journal] in 16 months for pretty good reason. It's become something of a relic of this journey, one I don't want to fill with trivial bullshit. I left Santa Fe for the carnie job Tuesday (3/18) and came to Odessa with one idea how things were supposed to be: then the quick reality!

Laina took me to the Albuquerque Greyhound, and I found myself nervous; getting worse the closer to Albuquerque we got. Just as the bus began pulling away, Bob Seger's Roll Me Away came on my MP3 player. That seemed to tell me: "relax; now write your story." Look forward and live it. There was a huge moon, so I could see New Mexico all the way to El Paso and felt legitimately optimistic. Excitement about what was coming, and a shot at freedom. The landscape, moon... all tuning me in--in some ways.

We arrived in Odessa at 10:30 or so, and immediately after I got here with my bunkmate, Dan, it became obvious that either Mike or Charles was simply full of shit; likely both. After being on the bus for 13-hours, Charles put us right to work (doing next to nothing) for three hours. We then got an hour off before the carnival opened--then worked another nine. 13-hours every day--Monday through Friday--then 14 to 15 on Saturday and Sunday. For a base salary of $300 per week. Do the math. Plus there is no time to yourself except with the alcoholics, and druggies etc., who just live to get lit up then wonder why they are broke. Reality meets stereotype! It would have been great living here 15 or 20 years ago, but I'm not living in that spot anymore. Just annoyed the fuck out of me and made me uncomfortable as hell...

**Bus arrived**