Journal 2 52
Journal 4
Day 66 Canyon to Claude
today: 34 miles cumulative: 1323

I only slept for 3 hours. I will not have a chance to say goodbye to everyone, but see you down the road for sure, because it all comes back around and we’ll all meet again in a bar called Heaven, and in heaven a band plays the songs we sang on that table all night, but we will never get tired of it there, and we will never have to rewind. Little Pikey asleep on the couch, goodbye my brother, Big Pikey upstairs, no one else to be found, see you all soon. Walking away from beer cans and dance parties back to the plains, back to panhandle wind, walking past "Tex," the 40 foot concrete cowboy, walking past people rubber necking, wondering who I am. Smiling to be back here outside the known. A woman stops to give me water, I have a good feeling about this Republic of Texas, it is a different country, but they are quite friendly here. I am still waving like I am running for president.

I have changed my mind about not believing in Physics. There are branches of Physics that are poetry.

Someone once told me that there is a math that may be able to predict how a tree branch will grow and the shapes clouds will take. God math. What would we do with it? Beyond quantum physics quark patterns and splitting atoms space travel, is there a limit to man’s knowledge, to our evolution? The Chaos theory may someday be used to predict the weather and the stock market, by finding the original pattern of the whole buried inside of its self. Like the Russian’s wooden dolls inside each is another, zoom in again and again and it will always stay the same, infinite recursion. Zoom in on a man and you find the DNA. I guess that would be the original idea, the soul of the original thought, but fractal math says that you can zoom in on that too, infinitely. That is why we cannot find god’s beating heart. So, we will come back to these ideas someday, now they are in my head and they will surely surface again.

A long day on the panhandle plains, infinite recursion. Original idea, DNA of the soul, in and in and in and in. So I am always tripping. Looking for my DNA out here, hoping to find it on a long stretch of nothing, a stretch like today where there is no one to talk to, a few houses, a convenience store on the one big corner where I make a right turn. Am I making a tour of convenience stores? Straight on to Claude, a ranch or house every mile then empty, flat. Empty, flat. Racing to get to my father’s, to food that is not freeze dried or bought in a Conoco. I don’t know where to go with this. Chaos is too big, Chaos will say today is infinity, a frame on a film strip, predictable forward and back if you know the present entirely, but I don’t , so what will today’s frames lead to at the end of this film.

I always ask the director and he always tells me the same thing, "Candy canes are measured by the pound, just keep walking."

Will the answers really come if I just keep going? What are the questions? Existence, practical how to’s, like getting by, I take that back, I meant flying high, and out of debt and whether or not I really want to sell a product, fame and groupies, how do solar flares effect my gas mileage, will I ever own a car without a cracked windshield, no, will I ever read all those books on my shelf (but I will still buy more, more, more), will I ever be able to order a water with my hamburger instead of Dr. Pepper? Will I ever find someone to love that wont go away, will I ever be satisfied enough to not go away myself, will I ever be hit by lightning, what about my recent addiction to heavy whipping cream, and the horse head nebula, and that little girl in Calcutta? Will these days ever feel easy?

At sunset I eat some zip-lock freeze dried, add the boiling water, Jamaican Chicken and rice. Sit in a chair that I have been carrying from Santa Fe, because I deserve to sit in a chair on my breaks. Someone told me I can’t complain because In Tibet they make pilgrimages on their hands and knees around Mt. Kailash with heavy leather instead of Ultra Light Gore-Tex, but leather or no, it is still no easy feat, and I don’t have the easy formula to follow, the Buddhists do. They "know" that they are doing it right when they walk 2 steps then bow, then supplicate, then walk on their hands and knees and say a certain mantra, they have an instruction manual. Im flying without a guide book, and to be quite honest, I don’t know how to land this thing. The Buddhist pilgrim’s mantra is Om Mani Padme Hum. Mine is Freestyle Rap. I do feel a little dirty about the convenience stores though. But convenience stores are America, and that is one of the things I am out here looking for.


More candy, more soda, more burgers and fries, more cars, more teen pop stars, more Wal-Marts, more shopping carts, more credit cards, more, and more. More. I am part of it, I am not a Buddhist monk in Western Tibet wearing leather, I am an Ultra light Gore-Tex wearing Snickers bar eating Dr. Pepper junkie. No yak butter tea, but I’ll take a side order if enlightenment please. Jewel in the Lotus.

Aum. Dark. Cold. Wind. Star Wars. Where is my light saber when I need it? Dance into the ditch, fall over. Laughing out loud. There is no question, I am done for the day. Lights of Claude ahead, 2 miles maybe. Cosmo rolls in the grass, I roll in the grass.