Two Rides; One Good, One Bad

I had stayed in Austin too long on the day I intended to leave and by the time I was walking down the highway with my thumb to the road, the sun was already setting and it is hard to find someone willing to pick up the Kodiak in the night. I walked several miles and someone pulled over and offered a ride to the next town and I took the offer.

He started asking me about how much money I had on me, and when I pulled out my cell phone to check the time, he asked about that as well in a very obvious manner. He attempted to come off as intimidating so when he finally noticed my laptop bag and asked what I had in there, I answered in a way that I knew would silence his questions.

"I'll tell you what I have on me. I've got a knife in my pocket to protect all my other things with me."

He dropped me off at the next exit after that, at the local gas station.

I walked a little longer and had given up hitching for the night as the clock struck ten that night. I began just walking to find a church to sleep behind until a pickup truck drove up beside me and the driver asked where I was going. I told him Dallas, and he said he was going to the same. He said his wife had just told him that she was considering divorce so he was going to Dallas to see his brother and play a round of golf for the weekend. Along the way, he told me all about his children and I told him about my journey so far.

We reached Lancaster, on the outside of Dallas, and I asked if he would just drop me off at a local motel for the evening. I was about to get out of his truck and he said that he would like to pay for my room for the night. I ended up getting a free room there thanks to him, but also suffered the first casualty along the trip since I left my cell phone in his truck. I'm working on getting another one now, and will have it as soon as possible.

I'm not sure how long I'll be in Dallas. It all depends on where the wind blows me.

Regards from Kodiak.

A Late Update

It is six in the evening, and I am just now waking up to write an entry about the night before. I went to sleep about 10:45 this morning, after spending a majority of the night at Epoch Coffee, trying to some form of conscious and awake. But let me Tarantino this one and go back a little bit.

Yesterday morning, I was walking down Guadalupe and trying to find something that would make my day and my blog more interesting. First of all, I stopped in a Texadelphia because of how hungry I was, and if you've never had their cheesesteak, I would suggest you closing my blog and immediately leaving for the nearest location (preferably going to the original Texadelphia like I did) and I sat and finished a few more chapters of Watchmen while I enjoyed my cheesesteak. Not too interesting so far, but damn delicious.

Afterwards, I went strolling again and walked past the Church of Scientology (maybe I'll go get my thetan levels tested before I leave and write an entry about it), before coming up on a small bookstore called Brave New Books. I am not one for conspiracy theories personally, but considering that the day before hadn't had much conversation at all, I thought somewhere like this would give me a few people talk to; and that was right. I was in the store for the longest time talking to the two owners and various customers that came in and I certainly heard my share of theories. However, the owners are charismatic and very friendly and for all the things we disagreed on, we agreed on almost as many.

Eventually, a man that looked a little like a short Shaggy from Scooby-Doo walked in and I began talking to him for a while. The store was closing shortly afterwards and so all of us parted ways but we managed to cross paths again. Considering that marijuana decriminalization was a topic of choice that day, I asked him if he knew where to find any and he told me he had some if I wanted to smoke it with him.

Yes. Yes, I did.

Throughout the night and into the early morning, we sat and had a beer and about three bowls and talked about our experiences and our worldview. He is a traveler, much like myself, and many of our motives and ideals matched. We had such a great time talking and sharing the company of each other that I hardly noticed how early it was. I had lost my chance to stay with my CouchSurfing host for the night.

I tried to argue with myself about getting a hotel again, and I lost the argument to good logic so I kept walking the streets. I met a seedy guy on the bus circling town, who had apparently just paid a poor homeless drug-addicted girl to do a few favors to him. God, I wanted to hit him. He disgusted me, the way he talked about another human being that happened to be down on her luck at the moment and the way he abused her.

I eventually had to get off so I wouldn't have to hear him talk about it any longer, so I ended up hitching to get a ride to Epoch Coffee since I knew they were open all night. It only took me about forty-five seconds to hitch a ride to here, from an older bearded man wearing a "Keep Austin Weird" tee. I love the people here.

I ended up conversing with a new friend in Epoch until the morning came around, and I got a ride from his friend back to the host's apartment. I crashed as soon as I got here, and I'm waking up now to maybe do it or something similar all over again.

Regards from Kodiak.

Beginning To Crash?

I woke up this morning and began to let my day fold itself out and for some reason, I feel trapped inside myself. I couldn't exactly explain why, but yesterday, when I felt a desire to hear every conversation around me, is gone now. I am completely happy now sitting next to a construction site and listening to Bob Dylan wail out Desolation Row over my earbuds and type for a little while on my laptop.

I never heard back from Daniel about the recording session so I assume that I won't be blogging about that. Either way, I'm happy to be in Austin where there is plenty to do no matter what plans change. Leaving here is going to be bittersweet; I'm eager to move on to other places but everything just feels so right here. I've got until the end of the week and hopefully, I'll tire of it by then.

Even with the little of bad or negative sides that have come out of this, I'm still completely content with my decision. There hasn't been a moment, even with the blistered feet and closed-minded looks, that I have thought about regretting my decision in this.

The last hindrance I am working on overcoming is sleeping outside, I still have my worries concerning that. I know that they are ill-founded and the very fact that I still have them is contradictory to my preaching in and of itself but I still do. Hopefully, with time, I'll get over that and be able to pursue this more fully.

There might not be another update today, and if there is, it might be a pretty small one. I just feel like enjoying a beautiful day through giving it my complete attention.

Another Night And What Two Days On The Road Shows You

Originally, I thought that my night was going to conclude with preparing my sleeping bag in the nearby camping ground and I really didn't think any part of that was enough to justify a whole new entry. However, "Life is what happens when you're making other plans" sang Lennon and that is exactly how my evening played out.

I decided to take public transportation to the couch that had been offered to me for the night, thinking that the directions were simple enough that I didn't need to write them down or even try to harshly commit them to memory. Needless to say, I was just riding on a bus down the middle of Austin with no basic hints of where to go and I started playing with the mentality of breaking down and getting a room for the night. Slowly, I began noticing the streets we were driving perpendicular against; I saw 3rd Street, then 4th Street, then 5th Street.

6th Street. The epitome of everything that makes Austin such a cultural area; an endless supply of counterculture, live music, and a few more adult locations. I already was lost, but sometimes when you lose your way, it is really just as well. I decided to stop and walk around a little while.

Up until this point in my journey, I've still been sheltered. At The Bugle Boy, everybody was very welcoming and kind; and the only other people that had really seen me were the drivers I hitched with (not counting Skip and the couple that hosted us). Tonight, I saw the other side that I'm not going to be welcomed by everyone and many are going to look down upon it. I walked down the street passing clubs and bars on the left and right with my backpack on my person, and was continously greeted by looks of distaste (that was, of course, whenever I even got looks; most looked away when I was coming). The bouncers would announce specials of the evening to men in suits then never when I was passing.

There were exceptions to the rule, however. I came upon a group of street performers playing a more cultural cover of Purple Haze. I began to join in with a little vocal work, and had a conversation with a few of them, before the police broke us up and told us that we couldn't play there anymore. I was back at my original position again, walking down the street with the same looks in my direction.

That was when I started thinking, this lifestyle is comparable to high school; when you love this girl or guy more than anything else and you love them more every day, but it is never returned and is possibly shunned. I begin to pick up more interest in the people around me every day, I find myself listening to conversations because I am genuinely interested in what they have to say. Sadly, at the same time, I still get more of those same looks in return. My love and interest still continues though.

I finally came back to my mentality of settling down in a comfortable hotel for the evening and came to another bus stop. I was sitting there for a moment, when an older man came up to me and stuck out his hand for a power fist and wished me well, and as I assume anyone would, I returned it. He told me that I had been the first to wish him well in return, and told me his thoughts on it in a very spirited manner. He told me all about how you will never matter to some people because you don't have enough money for their class.

It can be funny how life can show you lessons when you are too stubborn to see them yourself.

I boarded the bus afterwards and met a helpful man that told me parts of his story and assisted me in finding a cheap hotel for the night. Upon reaching the IHOP near the hotel, I had the strangest sense that I had been here before. It turns out that two years ago, I had attended a conference that a friend invited me to concerning ways to make money and become self-made millionaires.

Life can also show you how your priorities were changed in such a short time.

Two years ago, I was greeted with the most passionate smiles and friendly attitudes because a millionaire was sitting with us and he made it very evident based on his attire and attitude. If you go forward two years, you see a tired and weary man enter the same restaurant with a backpack, and he is put in the back of the restaurant and barely spoken to.

Yet, I am happier now than I was then, regardless of the treatment I receive from others. I really don't think little things like this will change that.

I've got a big day ahead of me tomorrow and it is just after midnight, so I'll call this it for tonight. No worries, and may we all meet in the valley before we meet in the plain.

My Entrance Into Austin

Today was certainly an experience. By the end of this entry, you'll hear about an aging hippie with a van filled with Mexican pastries, a roll-on comedian that gets an undeserved reaction, and how the Cody draws all the ladies to him.

I left from the house I was staying and began down the road with Skip, until I felt how every step tortured me so I split directions with him to go my own way again. Sure enough, about ten minutes later, a van pulled over with an elderly man in it. I opened the back door to place my baggage there, and was welcomed immediately by a flood of pastries wrapped in colorful labels with Spanish print. I felt like Noah, had Noah been troubled by a great flood of candy.

Actually, wouldn't that make all the stories from the Bible just a wee bit better? Jesus could've healed the blind man, then given him a lollipop. Zaccheus climbed a tree just to see Christ, imagine how high he would've climbed for a Klondike Bar.

Over the course of the ride, he told me stories about how he dropped acid during the Nixon administration and how he was growing some mushrooms out on his land. I told him I haven't smoked in a while, he told me that he would've given some to me if he hadn't smoked it himself on a previous highway. He also explained to me how Albert Hoffman and Elvis were his two predictions on the Messiah, because of how Hoffman turned us on to such a visually stimulating and spiritually enlightening resource, and Elvis taught white people that it is okay to have fun. Eventually, he dropped me off next to a bus stop in Austin, and wished me luck.

First, I headed to the only place that made sense, Jack In The Box. Jack has been there for me so many times before, why not be there for me when I come to him with open arms and sore feet?

Maybe I should make another personal revision to the Bible mentioned above, maybe Jack is the second coming. Instead of dealing with salvation and eternal damnation, he deals with sourdough bread and curly fries. I really need to stop being offensive, that can get you kicked off a bus.

Speaking of being kicked off a bus, I decided to relax and watch people get on and off a bus for about two hours of my day. Nobody ever told me how cold and silent some people in Austin can be. The first person that actually talked to me was a wheelchair-bound man that introduced himself as a roll-on comedian. He told three other men and me some lines and jokes that slowly become a tad politically incorrect and the bus driver forced him off the bus because of it. I met a new friend, Daniel, that helped cause a little bit of a commotion over the issue. It didn't do any good, but damn, it felt right.

I ended up conversing with Daniel and found out he was a recording engineer and got invited to a recording session tomorrow with a jazz artist, which I am looking forward to attending. I also got to relax at his place for an hour or two.

I haven't decided how sleeping will work tonight, I have a couch across town offered to me, or a camping ground within five minutes of me. Is comfort really worth paying for a cab to drive me across Austin? I'm debating that right now.

"Albert Hoffman and Elvis are my two nominations for the Messiah, the second coming of Christ"

"What do Dale Earndhart and Pink Floyd have in common? Their biggest hits were The Wall."

When The Morning Came

Already after only one day, a hot shower, a comfortable couch, and a bowl of Frosted Flakes feels like a luxury and something I feel lucky to have this particular morning. In fact, the only thing in the world that is hurting me right now is my feet.

I've always heard people say that they have blisters on their blisters when they are sore and I have always thought of it like an exaggerated farce, but that isn't the case. Upon taking care of one of my many blisters this morning, I found yet another blister directly under the one before it. Even with some aid, I will have to see exactly how well I will be able to walk on it over the course of the day. I might end up hitching some more if I have any trouble walking on it.

Skip suggested I get a bicycle in Austin for the two-hundred miles of nothing between Austin and San Angelo. I might do that, or possibly try to find some interesting people that are driving that distance. I'll update you when I decide for myself what I'm going to do.

That has become one of the most loved parts of my journey even after such a short time so far, it is the ideal that I don't have anything holding me back. At any moment, if I hear about something in the complete opposite direction of my current route, I can just turn around and head that way.

Sorry if I'm not as witty for this entry, I will update more later tonight.

My First Day (And Continuing Thoughts)

I'm sitting here on my sleeping bag, under a sign at Highway 71 and Green Acres Loop, I figured this would be a good time to go ahead and write my entry for today. First, a little more thought on last night.

Sitting in The Bugle Boy, I just cannot help to think about what an interesting yet small place La Grange is to start this sort of venture. I sat and started thinking about how my story was just beginning and took a look around at the women and men in the room on the other side of their years and I couldn't help but think about all of these people about twenty or thirty years ago when the infamous Chicken Ranch was still open.

You see, not many people move or relocate to La Grange; it is the sort of town that if you were born in it, you'll probably end up dying there too (and if you die there, chances are you were born there too). Needless to say, a majority of the people in that room grew up with La Grange and saw the tainted history behind it. I look at this crowd and wonder which of the women of today were the prostitutes of yesterday. Not in an arousing sense, mind you, but just one of intrigue; that these women and men had, in their own small way, purchased their little slice of history (whether it be through a really special birthday present that welcomed a young man into adulthood, or an old man that received the little bit of human contact before he departed this world). These people have stories, and I could spend a hundred lifetimes listening and enjoying them. But it was late, and I had my own story to start on. As Kerouac said, "the road is life."

That night, I laid out my sleeping bag under the stars and the headlights of vehicles that passed me by on the highway, each with their own destination and reason for seeking it. Over the night, I discovered that no matter how well you think you can handle the weather of your home state, you shouldn't buy the cheaper sleeping bag. I got through the cold weather and awoke the next morning to Skip bundling up his gear and preparing for the day.

After walking a few miles, we stopped at a locally owned breakfast diner and had a decent meal. I sat down to a burrito that had been bathed in melted cheese and raped by eggs, bacon, sausage, cheese, and several other fillings that I don't bring to memory, either by taste or appearance.

Heh, maybe I should be worried about that.

We left down a backroad and traversed it for about five or six miles before the water (which came from a well, apparently) and the burrito that I had disemboweled and pulled from its lake of cheese earlier began to discuss matters that shouldn't be discussed in my stomach and suddenly for obvious (and therefore, undisclosed) reasons, I needed to use a restroom immediately. There weren't any businesses for a few more miles and right after I suggested to Skip that we keep walking, the burrito assumably delivered a sucker-punch to the water. The final round was coming and I was a tad fearful over which consumable would be losing (because it didn't matter who lost, it meant I lost something too).

I went to a residential house and asked them if I could use their restroom and fill up my water bottle. Luckily, they didn't have an issue with that, so everything was appropriately handled and we were off again.

We had reached a total of about nine miles and Skip noticed that I looked weary and suggested to me that I hitch a ride for the rest of the way and wait for him to catch up with me. It sounded reasonable, and I think I set a pretty decent mark for my first day with someone from my physical condition going nine miles on the first day of travel. I stuck out my thumb and waited for a ride. It took about seven or eight minutes then I was lucky enough to be picked up by a man on his way to Austin to see about an ill friend of his (and whether you read this or not, sir, I wish you and your friend the best). We talked for a little while, and once we reached my destination, went our parting ways.

That leads me to here, under a sign and waiting for Skip. I'm going to read Watchmen for a bit, and I'll update a little while later.

My First Night (And My Thoughts Surrounding It)

Remember this day.

This is the day when everything changed, and when I don't constantly consider the two decades that I have been living and regret not doing anything.

Today I started something; something that I intend to finish.

I drove with Shaggy into La Grange (a-houw houw houw houw; the part of me that loves ZZ Top interrupts the coherent sentence), and met up with Skip Potts, my new partner in crime to start my travels where his are already on their way and have been for some time. I had heard a blues artist by the name of Doug MacLeod was playing that night and thought that it would be fitting, considering how many older blues and folk artists had sung about their experiences and life on the road while traveling. Unfortunately, we only made the last fifteen minutes but it was enough to give me time to reflect on what was coming and what was behind me while letting the music drift me away temporarily.

What is behind me? Metaphorically, my burnt bridges and ships. I have not an opportunity to resume a previously normal pattern of living back in College Station anymore, I've completely made sure of that. There is nothing left except that internal strength and I expect to completely draw on it for these next few days.

There was once a great general who reached an opposing land by a fleet of ships. His crew reached land and saw before them a plain and occupying it, in the distance, were a group of men that outnumbered them several times over. Sensing his men and their fear and concern, he turned back to light the ships aflame until they had been torched and sunk beyond all repair. He then told his men, "You now have two options; you will fight and arise victorious, or you will fight and die."

I now have those two choices. I can either continue on and let the combination of stubborness and wanderlust take me over and come out on the coast victorious, or I won't. I'm sure you can interpret that for yourself.

Behind me, there is a past that will always hold me back and keep me from moving on to new locations and new experiences. Behind me isn't all bad though. There are several things that I have left behind that I regret.

There are friends and family that love and care about me behind me, but even them without intending to or even understanding that they are, are keeping me from moving on with the goals I have set for myself.

What is in front of me? I don't know for sure, but I do know it is an adventure.

It has reached that time in this entry, I've got to do a bit of name-dropping. First of all, my traveling companion Skip Potts. He is walking to raise money for a great cause, public school funding specifically. I would suggest everyone check out his blog (skippotts.blogspot.com) and the website for PFEE (People For Educational Equality; the group he walks for, their site is PFEE.org) and follow his travels as well.

Second, Doug MacLeod was the blues artist we went to see at The Bugle Boy, and I'll be posting links in the next entry for both of those. Doug is an absolutely riveting storyteller in addition to his music and all of his work is available on iTunes for download. I couldn't recommend it enough if you are a lover of blues or folk.

That's all for now, I'll start updating with more linear entries now to keep up with the journey. No worries, my brothers and sisters.

My Last Night In My Apartment

I should probably put the pen to paper (or the fingers to keyboard, as it were) to mark tonight as a memorable evening. This is my final evening to spend in the comfort and safety of my townhome, before I begin my personal journey. I don't remember the last point in my life where I felt a rush of so many different emotions; between exhilaration and anticipation to fear and worry and so many others. It is one of the more bittersweet moments of my life.

In a few days, I'll be going on one the most physically stressful journeys I've ever found myself on. I've thought about it and planned it out for a year now, and yet suddenly I feel so unprepared for this milestone. I know that I am, but I don't feel that way at all.

I'm at a bit of a loss for words this evening, so if everything feels a bit forced, that would be why. I just don't know what to say, I am reminded of the Narrator from Fight Club when Tyler Durden has a pistol in his mouth and ask him if he has any last words and the Narrator can't think of anything to say to that. I'm at this moment where I should have so much to say and yet, I don't, and I don't know how I should feel or if I should feel at all about this.

I'm happy about it. I want to do it. I just don't feel anything right now. I'm just going to lay back and absorb this moment, let it not go unnoticed.

And It's A Battered Old Suitcase...

I mentioned yesterday that I don't have an answer to my dilemma, it turns out there is one and if what happened tonight is any implication, I have my answer already. It wasn't exactly unexpected, but certainly unwanted.

I've been trying to form some sort of a verbal answer for the inquiry of why I would travel on this particular journey for when it is asked by others and myself. I will be taking one entry here to discuss the more positive side of travel, and another for the side of travel thats serves as a hospice for hearts no longer a flutter. Travel is a hospital, where new ambitions and hopes are born, old hearts can be healed and helped, and where dreams can make the passage to their final resting place.

I thought about this for about a year before I worked on my decision. For friends and family, I can imagine this seemed like a rather odd lifestyle for me, considering my previous plans of grandeur and how much money I spent on my current and more luxurious lifestyle. Slowly, through an unexplainable series of thought processes, I came to the understanding of how continually unhappy I still was even after spending more money. I was used to the attitude of throwing money at anything to repair it (at least to match my concern). Money should be used as a tool, but I was using money as the tool.

That started the establishment that I would continue to be unhappy no matter how much money I spent on anything, and that meant I had to determine a few things. First of all, why was I so unhappy? Secondly, what could I do to become happy again? Through some deep searching (which is worth mentioning considering how hard it is to do when the soul you search has the footprints of society and family all over it; more on that later), I found that I wanted to travel and experience cultures outside of my own to be happy.

I began to set dates for airlines, plan for financing and for excused absences from my office for vacation. I was working on flying to Paris in December, and spending several months there and come back to work as a refreshed person eager to put his nose to the grindstone. However, as the date seemed to move farther away instead of closer, I began to think that this was solving the aformentioned problems in the sense that putting a Hello Kitty band-aid on a gaping wound would heal it. It could possibly help out temporarily, but it isn't going to help the problem in a more permanent way.

There I was, still with a problem and still without a solution. Then, an important revelation struck me, why was this a problem? Why did I feel like I needed to find something to fix the way I felt inside when maybe it didn't need to be fixed? With those thoughts came the excuses that seemingly counteracted them. These are the same excuses that others have told me about this or similar ventures in their life, and I have dealt with the same ones on my own. Any of these sound familiar?

• I won't have food or water.
• I need the security that comes with a job in my life.
• I won't have means for making money.
• I'll feel like I am wasting my life.
• I won't have any retirement money saved up, and I'll be sweeping floors at Taco Bell when I am eighty years old just to make money for medication.

I've heard and dealt with all of those and more. I've decided to address them here to help out others that may be struggling with this decision.

1. I won't have food or water. Remember when I said that I thought money was the tool, not a tool? This is exactly what I meant by that. Society has reached a point where we have made synonyms out of the terms "money" and "survival", it would seem. You do not need money to survive. Write that down. The road watches out for her children walking on her, and you will always end up with the food and water you need if you are helpful and willing to lend a hand to others.
2. I need the security that comes with a job in my life. Circuit City. Midway. Starbucks. Glaxo-SmithKline. Caterpillar. Sprint. Home Depot. Harley-Davidson. Microsoft. Google. Intel. If you worked at any of these companies and many others, the term "job security" doesn't mean a thing to you anymore. This sounds cynical, but trust me when I say it is the most uplifting way to say this; you don't have security in anything. Security should be found between Ronald McDonald and Tony the Tiger considering that it is an entirely fictional term. In a relationship? If you are, I picture that you feel pretty secure in it and your partner. Truthfully, that's a facade, and absolutely anything could happen to take away that security. That goes just as much for your vehicle or your home or your pets or your career. I know it sounds terrible, but it is important to understand that security shouldn't matter to you since adults don't spend their time worrying about figments of their imagination.
3. I won't have means for making money. First of all, we've went over the fact that money is only one tool that you should be using and you can use several other tools to get the items you may need (and still stay within ethical and moral boundaries). Even so, there are always options to make money if you truly need it. We tend to forget what a truly interesting age we live in; I can find a company going out of business in Florida looking for people to hold signs for them, and arrange to be there and a method of payment all while laying in bed and writing this blog. It all seems so normal to us now, but read that again and see that because of it, finding sources of financial means will not be a problem. Once more, the road provides for her children.
4. I'll feel like I am wasting my life. By what or whose terms? If you are wasting your life according to your own terms and you have greater plans for yourself than that, you should pursue it. However, if you are following the terms of your parents or society, strongly consider why you do that. We seem to all fall in line with what is expected of us. Live your life in the way that it makes sense to you. Write that down. If you are working as a lawyer but always dream of opening a store selling unusual varieties of rock candy, then do that. Our schools and teachers tell children that they can be what they want to be, but what we have been taught is that you can be anything you want to be (as long as it includes going to college, getting a degree, getting a good career in that field, meeting a member of the opposite sex and marrying them, having several kids and living out your life in suburbia). Hopefully, this is reaching you by this point so the most touching thing I should be able to mention now is to repeat the same thing you've been told over and over but this time, understand that it finally comes without the extra baggage. You can be whatever you want to be.
5. I won't have any retirement money saved up, and I'll be sweeping floors at Taco Bell when I am eighty years old just to make money for medication. This was the hardest hindrance to overcome, because this one is almost undeniable. Reaching that age, your options begin to lessen and you must rely on the options you have made for yourself in your younger years. However, my dealing with this came in the form of an agreement. I'm fine with working the rest of my days in order to bring the final chapters of my life to a peaceful closing. Consider the other option though, you spend several decades working in a cubicle and pleasing your boss so that you can enjoy your elderly years when you are much too old to enjoy anything. I'll sweep floors if I get the opportunity to lead this life.

Essentially, all of those reasons stem from what we have been taught about how society operates. You need money, you need a career to earn money, you need an education to get a good career, you need to get an education to be successful, you want to be successful. I'm about to take the worst step possible, according to society. To myself, though, it is the best step I've ever taken and I couldn't be happier with it.