as I pull out words from the finite supply of expression
words that reflect my current situation
words shot-gun married with one another
words that can not have meaning with out each other
this mind’s eye needs a varnish
doubt leaving these fingers tarnished
on a keyboard that has no soul
lest I channel mine so bold
my soul reminds when it comes from the heart
there’s no time for rehearsal let. it. Out.
Alright alright! Already.
Astoria Oregon, the miles no longer matter because this life is beyond the passage of roadway, winding its way through forest and hills, like a fun house corridor. After hours on the road, new dimensions open up and I’ll find myself in hysterics, as though the world is a cardboard cut out without clear definitions until the rattling of a logging truck shakes me back into this plane of existence. Ohhh yeah, must stay alive, want to see more!
My experience remains that everyone is afraid of each other. Word of mouth paranoia spreads like a pandemic, and I sometimes feel myself getting sick just by contact. What’s a pretty girl like you doing going off on her own? Where’s your husband? Aren’t you afraid?- I’m afraid for you! May god protect you, from others and your own insanity. I almost kill myself with paranoia every time I set up my tent in a random locale; sleeping with one-eye open assuming every crackle of a branch or a leaf brushing against my tent is the sign that a knife-wielding burly man is out there looking to get me. I’m more afraid of the sounds of people’s voices than I am of a black bear (which I did see, and ended up belting the first song that came to mind ‘Time of your life’ – Bill Medley and Jennifer Warnes). Yet despite the paranoia, I’ve yet to come across anyone that has any other intention than wishing me well with their palms opened offering their love, support, and concern. Until I have a reason to worry, I at every moment have to remind my self that the worry takes me away from living.
Thus far, I have been apart of a quilting meet up for seniors – oooooooooooooOOoOOO TERRIFYINGly fun with giggles and cookies, walked into a grocery store playing old-time country music where immediately the produce clerk greets me ‘Hello ma’am anything I can help you with? – avocado’s are over there ($0.89) – we sure do play some hokey music in here hey? – Oh yeah? I like it too, never gets old. -you be safe now y’hear’, shared space with a group of super cute boys heading to San Fran on their bicycles (oh if only I weren’t heading to Portland ;p), and have eaten more salsa, avocado, bread, quinoa, and split peas than I have in all of my existence. It’s a hoot being a stranger, because people are more likely to let their guard down and approach you for conversation and shooting-the-shit is a good time when you have no where to be.
I need to cut this post shorter than I had wanted, because my stomach beckons and the road calls.
For any bike-tourers out there; the Astoria-Megler’s 4 and a half mile bridge is not scary! So long as you plan it well – 6am start, and the bridge was a breeze. There is an amazing little spot on the cliff at the state rest area just before the tunnel, spend the night overlooking the pacific amongst trees and ferns, just be sneaky lest a burly knife wielding man sees you.
Talk to you for real for real, in Portland.