Left west on Tuesday, end destination Yellowstone where work and live for the summer I shall.

Some recording of thus far:  http://picasaweb.google.com/zdavies/TravelWest

Currently Listening Ys By Joanna Newsom Only Skin see related

After the madness of New Orleans, farm-ish life has been welcome.  Especially when that includes a nice bed and room of my own.  That same madness drives me to outfit with gear enabling more time away from a comfortable bed; rustling in leaves amongst rock and branches.  Being 'a bit of a loner' [as described recently by an old hiker who donated half the genes in these bones], this outdoor activity of rambling up and down through flora and near fauna fits like a backpack I can scarcely afford.

Madness displays its lovely colors on other scapes - unless I'm mistaken, nearly 73% of the knees I side-by-side scraped dirt with a few years back have bended in promise making to new found loved ones.  I'd venture to call this phenomenon a disease for its widespread catching, but never having seen sickness make ones so joyous another name begs to fill the space.  Beautiful Madness.  Yall have all gone mad, mad, mad.

In the furthering of other forms of relational harmony, the following is offered:

[courtesy: Osprey Pack Care]

Here's to the love of your people [and packs].

Currently Listening Illinoise By Sufjan Stevens see related

Here in the Big Easy, pagan screams of Mardi Gras have muted to beads rattling underfoot; seamlessly, Christianity has taken the seat of attention: ashes on wednesday foreheads signaling where our neighbors have recently been.  Having viewed one spectacle, I journeyed to another; sitting this time in pews to view the parade of costumes and symbols.

In the same way, a night of reveling enjoyed me more in a spying attic than amongst the heckling crowd.  Pray, do not brandish your fly-swatters.

Another week left here, then to the parental home for a week or two - this calendar shows a blank from then till May Seventeenth [aside from the sisters wedding on may sixth] when I should arrive in Yellowstone to see, and see what I can see for the summer.  A job has been secured to keep this body fed, otherwise I look forward to being empty in that vast wilderness.

Mid March to May asks me to find occupations of industry or pleasure for them.  Suggestions?

How do these first months of the year find you, keyboardfriends?

Tethered to a collective of connected alcoves, I spend sleeping hours in todays attic, tomorrows celebrated home.  Apple pies flavor lost, no more need to savor loss - ran wheels southwest to celebrations of parades and bead grenades, bursting in the air over our waiting fencepost necks.  A few weeks residence may escalate one more sleeping bag up up and into the west - room enough for plenty who have few.

sweet dreams of chameleons slither across tepid chests
we feel answers bake best in the fire of self-righteous anger and glee
of koala bears happy to be here, content to be free

incoherent learning has been elected by a show of hands over coherent nonsense.  update complete.  how're yall?

Currently Listening Harvest By Neil Young Old Man see related

It's four am: this body is racked with fever and phlegm and unable to sleep.  Spanish Harlem is not the place to be if one wishes to spend any of the celebratory hours with eyes closed and ears free from constant reverberations.  Those few griefs aside the hours of late have been brilliant, filled with park rambles and dollar pizza, library views and change, the opiate of those who wander.  Change also refills the reservoirs of those who wonder, bringing new paints with which to cover the minds canvas.

News news, boring news.  I hate news.  Let's rehash the mundane, empty and sordid tales of the last hour.  That said, I'll bow underneath it's weight for a moment.  The undergraduate path that I've walked the past four years finally ended in December.  Two baccalaureate degrees are soon to be stowed in my parents attic with my name on them.  Impatience says they've done nothing for me - I know that to be false.  The destinations were empty and only gold-plated with shiny decorative meaning, but in the miles between I changed and clawed away to get at the lead inside me - and discarded it as so much ballast and anchor, unneccessary to a ship that never wishes to find permanent port.

I'm in NYC now, and will be for about a month.  Then I plan on trailing books and clothes to the deep south for a while.  Afterwards?  The adventure just continues as far as I can see.

An older man heard these plans of unplanning a life so fraught with details and schedules of the past - "time for a little reality, young man" - I gave no retort but have thought on his advice for a few weeks now only to discover that this idea of reality is subjective, created by each individual to which he then molds his life to fit.  It seems the majority of these people then attempt to bend and break those around them into this same box and then to quickly wrap it up behind so as to prevent escape.  My reality, older man, is that there is no reality.  Only today.  And my young over-eager idealism surely propels me closer towards understanding your sad words with each one of those todays, but until such time as I resign my reality to yours I will live each today with an unquenchable thirst for learning and understanding.

To those who might read this, those few who know me somewhat and the few more who know me not at all, except as some moniker you subscribe to, I wish the best and that you may find peace for today.  Happy New Year.