Be Driven.

     Music (and a word about "links"):
     To increase the relevance and utility of the "music section" of the blog, a song selection will be presented at the beginning or within each section. Simply open the youtube link as it appears and enjoy the song as you read. For my readers that do not specialize in being computer savvy,  You can also just listen to the song first, then continue reading (that won't ruin the intended experience, unless otherwise noted). For any readers on a smart phone (unless you're damn handy with one of those things) you may have to choose the second option.
     In fact you probably shouldn't skip any links, especially not in this blog update.
     They are very important to the update.
     Don't worry though, I swear there are no links to any fishy sites out there. I've checked each of these sites out personally—no virus threat here.
     For example, a link to a site we will be talking about today:
     https://learn.life.indiegogo.com/how-it-works/
     See? Nothing to worry about. Just check it out, then come right back (:


     Introduction:
     This week, a man told me I could "make some money with my poetry."
     "Cool!" Thought I.
     So now, "To Reflect Upon the Moon" will be by subscription!
     There are four levels of memberships. You can choose:

     Pay as you Read Plan—for just $1 (each week) you will get the current weeks blog post! A bargain!
     Sustaining Member—for a one time payment of $10 you get access to every blog post for a whole year!
     V.I.P. Access—for a $100 donation, you not only get lifetime access to all the material posted on this blog by the author, but you will also have unfettered access to this blogger's personal journal and notebooks. That includes, but is not limited to, all the personal love poems that he doesn't want to put on the internet, random rants and raves and scribbles and lessons jotted down along the way, and all the amateurish writings that are too embarrassing to share... It's all yours!
     Ultimate Adventure Package—In addition to the above benefits, for only $1000, you will be invited to join the author in his adventures for at least a day and two nights wherever he happens to be at the time! Please see bottom of page for rules and regulations.**

     So don't wait! While you're calculating a cost/benefit analysis of each level of membership, you are missing out on all the serendipity, melodrama, and downright genuine shenanigans that happens every day when you live on your bicycle. Click here to sign up now and hop on the pegs 'cause the ride is just getting started!

     https://life.indiegogo.com/fundraisers/victim-of-circumstance-declared-dead-when-alive

     https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lgU-6S4CM6g

     Thank you for your payment.

Here at To Reflect Upon the Moon we utilize the honor system

so your honesty in this is also greatly appreciated

(seriously, if you read this post without giving poor poor Bernice a single dollar bill then I'm sorry, I try not to judge anyone, but shame on you. The woman needs medicine or she is going to die. On the street. If you don't know Bernice, go ahead and read last week).

     This was a very personal week for me with a higher level of angst and soul searching than usual.

 Read on to find out what I found.

Thanks for reading!

     Reflection:
     I've alluded to this over the past couple months, maybe even spelled it out, but I don't think I ever actually said it.
     This is really hard for me.
     Is it riding all day, sleeping on some hard ground, then waking up to ride all day again?
     I've gotten used to it
     Is it the climb? The seemingly never ending hills and occasional mountain?
     Tough, but I pushed through.
     Is it the declining funds and eatin' from dumpsters and that whole jazz?
     Most of the time that's actually pretty fun!
     No. What is hard for me is less the physical challenges of the world, but more the emotional challenges in my heart.

     So not long ago I was what has come to be known as a "gamer."
     Without trying to insult anyone who is proud of that moniker—I basically just sat inside all day and played video games. I talked in good length about this in some post in July, so I'm not going to do that again. The reason I mention it again is to admit/remind to any reader the fact that, until very recently, I led a pretty safe and sheltered life and knew little to nothing about the actual world outside Connecticut (which, as it turns out, is pretty different than Connecticut. Surprise!). What I'm reflecting on here is my ego's reaction to all the encounters I've had along the way.
     So, some people I have met along the way think what I'm doing is pretty amazing. At first, I was really genuinely surprised. Like, I didn't even know what to say. As time went on and I met more and more people and more and more people were more and more impressed it was sort of like, "Yeah. I could get used to this!" I would say that for most of my life, my self-image was pretty low, hovering somewhere around this guy:

     In the year proceeding to my departure, I met a number of amazing people and had a series of experiences which really boosted me up to the point where I felt I could venture out. I guess somewhere in this time my self-image got to about this:
https://www.google.com/search?q=average+guy&hl=en&biw=1920&bih=979&site=webhp&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0CAYQ_AUoAWoVChMIlPabvqyGyAIVSco-Ch3L7Qw1
     So then I leave on my bicycle journey, feeling a large range of emotions, including confident, but definitely not thinking I'm some kind of bad-ass or anything. I remember, for instance, riding west through Jersey at the end of my 2nd day out, weeping myself to dehydration as I also pushed myself and the rig up a hill. Seriously, my muscles failed from dehydration because I was crying so much, and I had to pull over suddenly and just pitched the tent behind a bush. It had struck me that each pedal stroke moved me further away from everyone I knew and loved, and that made each pedal stroke a lot more difficult. I don't talk about it much, especially not on my blog, but I am almost always thinking about someone I miss. But then I get to Philadelphia and I am surprised to experience that everyone (seemingly) wants to talk to me and everyone I talk to thinks I'm cool/awesome/amazing.
     I can not completely describe how amazing this felt, but to give it a go, getting on the bicycle became my cape and costume. Not sure exactly when it happened but at some point I started seeing myself as this dude:

     So now I get this over inflated ego and just kind of ride with that for a while.
     The rig speaks for itself, as I've been told. When I ride down a street or up to some cafe bike rack, I really do feel like a superhero, flying around on my inestimable steed, LionHeart (thus the blog name, in case ya didn't know).
     Of course I've always wanted to be a rock star. Of course I've always wanted to be Batman, or Luke Skywalker, or Goku, or any cool dude that walks with confidence and strength and saves the day and the girl too.
     The thing is though, I am not Spider-Man, nor The Hulk, nor Han Solo, nor even this guy:

     https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5gFYhwuN5wc
     This is Kentaro Oe, the main character of the Japanese animation Goldenboy. This completely inappropriate and totally ridiculous show follows Kentaro around as he rides across Japan on his bicycle, taking odd jobs and generally making a mess wherever he goes.
     However, he is also paying attention, and learning, so at the end of the episode he cleans up the mess he made and also helps everyone and teaches them something too—then disappears. The humor is, as I said, completely inappropriate. That is, Kentaro is a complete pervert and never stops thinking about sex (chalk it up to the sexually repressive Japanese culture I guess). As a twelve year old boy though, that really spoke to me in ways that people who have never been a twelve year old boy might have trouble understanding. I really came to connect with the fictional character on the screen and, yup, I wanted to be him when I grew up.

     Pretty odd choice of a role model I must say—but if nothing else he gave me this interesting idea. An idea that stuck around in my head, behind all the nonsense everyone—society and culture and friends and family and strangers—tells us to do. This idea stuck around despite the many iterations of myself I have gone through over the years. At the time I got the idea it just made sense. Like duh I was gonna do that when I grow up like obviously. And then I figured out how hard it'd be and I was like, "Well f that I'll ride a motorcycle!>"
     But then I read the Goldenboy comic book and the story of that went further than the television show! And in that they reveal Kentaro Oe's backstory and he had a motorcycle and was just crusin' when he meets this amazing girl that shows him love and stuff and convinces him moving places on ones own power is important. So then I wanted to do it by my own power again. It took a couple more years to lead up to that, but it eventually happened. I left home on my bicycle, determined to not only cross the country on it but to live on it. To find out if this odd way of life was possible. To live and learn and fuck up and be an idiot (y'see, these four things happened in my life all the time already) but somehow, impossibly and improbably, save the day in the end and ask for nothing in return.

     So, with all that being said, why the heck am I in Salem, Massachusetts!? The quick answer—the reason that was on my mind as I got on that bus last week—was to help a dear friend who I felt needed me and what the heck is money for if not a bus ticket for that and I'm not actually doing anything with my life/time right now so why not, right?
     https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=49U4bBQMdWI (best listened to while reading, if possible).
     Well, wrong. I am doing something with my life/time right now. I'm doing this. What you are reading. This is a filtered version of my everything. I am my head and my heart. My journal is the raw thoughts and emotions pouring out from them. I take pictures when something strikes either of those two things, or both. I write a poem when either of those two things, or both, is struck and there is nothing for the camera to capture. I write a story when something interesting happens and I want to make sure I remember it or want to share it with people (you). I'm exploring and meeting people and learning and even though it's hard—sometimes more difficult than anything I've ever done—I am having a blast. Holy shit this is amazing. Why didn't I quit job+sell shit sooner!?

     I could be doing this anywhere though! So I might as well explore Boston and have fun there AND help my friend! It'll be great! Chicago can wait. Winter's coming but not here yet. The Mississippi can wait. I'll be right back. I'm taking another little detour. Okay okay, I really just don't want this journey to end like EVER 'cause it is just so great and I'm extending it by any good idea I can think of.
     Well, did you catch it? That last paragraph was total bull shit! Okay, it wasn't false per se, but it's all a bunch of thoughts put in front of my real feelings, which are as follows:
     This is hard. This is too hard. I miss Claire and Hayley and Lili and Sandra and Rosalyn and my mom and my dad and my brother and my friends. I miss everyone. I'm about to ride through the desert. I'll post a picture of a cactus so people don't worry about me I guess. I have no idea what to do. I'm going to die. I want to go home. I want to go live with Claire in Maryland. I want to go see Hayley and Rachel in Boston. I want run away. I want to just hide in my sleeping bag like I did in 2nd grade when it was too hard to play soccer and I stubbornly refused to join 'cause I resented everyone involved for waking me up so early. I want to hide there, even though I know the deep shame and disappointment I felt by doing so, because it is safe. It is fucking scary out here. I almost get hit by cars and trucks and buses every damn day. There are apparently serial killers and gangs and crazy heroin addicts roaming around, though I never met any, but I guess it just takes one. Did I mention the desert?
     So you may have noticed I chose one of those options above. Yeah. I ran away. I ran away from the challenge. Truthfully I worry too much about things and have been trying really really hard to not do that. Truthfully I fear too much about the world and have been trying really really hard to not do that either. The name of my bicycle, LionHeart, is my ideal I'm riding for. When I'm on my LionHeart I can go anywhere. I can do anything. People even think I'm cool and that's cool too! I can climb mountains. I can ride forever. Or can I? Can I cross the desert? Will I make it?

     Kentaro Oe would make it. Too bad I'm not him. Can an average guy do it? Can a completely normal underachiever make it? But what if that average guy... What if that normal dude... Really loves riding his bike?
     I can't pretend to be someone I'm not. I'm a teacher turned traveler. I'm a lover of life and a student of the world. I've got imperfections pouring out of my nose. I'm not a big deal. I'm just a guy that rides his bicycle. I'm Just Justin.
     This week I found my home. Turns out it was right where I started. Myself.


     Poetry:

     "Lay My Head"

     Wake up
     under a tree
     hidden by the branches
     quiet
     Earth and fresh rain
     Listen to my body
     bumping down the hill

     Wake up
     side of the road
     behind some brush
     crickets and cars
     Just my sweat
     eat a bunch
     right back on (it)

     Wake up
     by the river
     beneath the moon
     flowing water
     fresh air
     sit and write
     take my time

     Wake up
     stranger's house
     nice made bed
     footsteps
     clean linen
     use the restroom
     and pack my things

     Wake up
     friend's house
     sheet on a futon
     muffled music
     dusty cushions
     fall back to sleep
     Till I can't anymore

     Wake up
     someone's house
     loveseat couch
     dog panting
     dog breathe
     pet him till I cry
     gotta leave by 8

     Wake up
     Outside your locked door
     on your porch
     neighbor's tools
     old cracked wood
     knock. knock. knock.
     shuffle down the stairs

     Wake up
     in your bed
     with you in it
     your heartbeat
     your scent
     hold you. Holding me
     This line hurts too much to write

     Wake up
     in her bed
     she already left
     your heartbeat
     your scent
     trying to remember
     leave a note and a feather

     Stand up
     from the rocks
     on this beach
     my breathing erratic
     through my mouth
     Just need help
     until you find me

     Sit up
     in my head
     exposed
     waves and wind
     storm in the air
     defeated
     I crawl off

     Arise
     my own bed
     my old room
     static old alarm
     my old foam pillow
     All packed, ready to go
     Will I ever return?
    


     Story:

     Just Some Fun Little Night I Had.

     I wake with a beast starring me in the face. I gasp and violently shake backwards into the crevice of the wooden bench I was sleeping on moments before. I have no inkling as to what time of the night it is but the lights from the bay reflecting off the water quickly reveal to me that the beast is actually a very adorable large dog that is probably as startled as I am and clearly harmless. The fright only lasted a moment, but it's still a hell of a way to wake up when you're sleeping alone in a park on a bench.
     The dog frolics off and I hear the twang of a guitar from the darkness somewhere behind me. Some figures are moving towards the water. Having just woken up my reality is fuzzy. I start to doze off again but a mosquito buzzing in my ear causes my eyes to open again as energy is directed to the arms for the purpose of slapping myself in the face. I do so, and now I'm a bit more awake. The guitar player is strumming nearby and the figures are speaking to each other. I'd like to say hi, introduce myself, learn who they are, maybe make friends! It's a weird position though, being some dude sleeping on a bench in the dark of the night, that they may or may not even have noticed is there. I can only think of one way to try to make a connection.
     I grab my harmonica from my bag and begin playing with the guitar player. He doesn't stop; we just start jamming together right there. Someone else in the group calls out, "Woah where is that harmonica coming from!?" She walks towards the sounds I'm making and I say, "Evenin', how ya' doin'?" She sits on the bench and introduces herself as Katie. She is cool. So cool. She offers to smoke right away. Wow. My night just got awesome.
     Her friends come over and we learn a bit about each other until we start talking about art and music and all that. They all know about different artists that ring no bells for me but their knowledge and awareness sounds pretty impressive. After a bit of talking and listening I join Chris and his guitar again with my harmonica. The forth person of this group, Alex, who has been wandering around away from us and I had yet to meet, finally approaches and expresses his sullen mood. "You guys I lost my phone! I need it, maaaaan." Ah, that explains why he's upset. After some more talking I pull out a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and share it with one of my new friends. As we're enjoying my favorite sandwich, Alex returns from his pacing still not having found his phone. "You guys I will give anyone all my money, like fifty-dollars if you find my phone! That phone is how I talk to the most important person in the woooorld to me maaaan. I can't reach her without it."
     https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=goX9dESxLnU
     I had heard the fifty dollar reward, and while that would be nice, I'm kind of enjoying music and food and love and art and stuff. This is just too good to pass up. But, something he says strikes me. "most important person in the woooorld ... can't reach her without it." My phone, at the moment, is dead, and has been for about a week. I somehow lost the power cord to it. It's an old and odd European flip phone—no one has a charger for this thing and I can't find one anywhere. I've been doing fine without it, really. Yup totally fine—just needed to hop a bus to come back to the East Coast immediately because I don't have instant connection to my loved ones and that terrifies me. Totally. Fine. And now that I'm here I'm sleeping alone in a park anyways and I'm cold and stuff but still. Totally. Fine. And I can't reach Claire on the phone to talk about my feelings and fears and I'm afraid of being alone but still. Totally. Fine... So. I feel very empathetic to poor Alex, and stand to help him find his phone.
     "Hey, is there any more peanut butter and jelly?" A voice from behind me speaks as I walk away.
     "Oh! Right." I was definitely going to eat it, but had sort of forgot I was holding it too. "Here, you can have the rest."
     "Duuude this guy just gave me half his peanut butter and jelly! I love you!" I hear as I walk over to Alex and away from the chillin' goin' on behind me. I get the info on the iPhone # and begin scanning with him. "Don't give up! You will find the phone. Just keep thinkin' that and don't give up." We walk around a bit. Alex mentions he went down to the sand—this park I'm at has a beach—but he opts to scan elsewhere. I hop down to the shore and scan there until, among the other dark objects, there it is! An iPhone! I pick it up and walk over to the group triumphantly, "Hey dude! I found it!"
     "No way!" Voices in the dark echo back.
     "I wouldn't lie about it! I got it right here! Unless it's some other iPhone in the sand."
     Alex walks over and I hand him the phone, "No way this is it oh man yes thank you dude! I have got like $50 dollars in my bank account you can just like have it man."
     "Dude, I don't want your money. I just found the phone it's no big deal."
     "No man come on let me give you this you just saved me like two hundred dollars at least or something man."
     "Okay, well, how about you give me this instead."
     "Anything man, name it."
     "Your friendship!" I put my hand on his shoulder, "I just wanna be your friend, man!"
     He looks at me and says, "You have no idea what that means to me man..."
     "Yeah brother! It's cool! Choose love man!"
     "You have no idea what that means to me." He repeats.
     "Cool man!" Suddenly a song comes to mind. I start singing.
     https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lgU-6S4CM6g
     Alex just starts laughing, a lot, and that just encourages me to start dancing.

     So I'm dancing in the dark singing The Beatles, "Can't Buy Me Love" to this dude I just met and found and returned the iPhone of and of course there's more but... That's just some fun little night I had.


     Start Rebuilding 

     https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xv-FOSJIwrU

     March, 2014. I was a mess. I was overworked with my two jobs and my fiancee at the time had just discovered the exciting world of EDM clubs—the modern version of disco—so she wasn't around too much. Working as much as I did, I had no time to really see my friends who were also all busy working as much as I was, or so, to pay for the many inflated living expenses of the Connecticut coastline. With no one in my life except the few kids I mentored, I was pretty lonely and getting more and more depressed. It was sad and bad, and the New England winter was no help either.
     During that time, I had a lot of anxiety about going out and talking to people and stuff. It was a huge problem. I'd be at a bar and feel very, "I don't know what I'm doing here and everyone knows it." Consequently I was unable to meet anyone new, despite my efforts. I found I could go to music shows and not feel totally awkward though, as I had a genuine love for the music. I could feel like I belonged there. I usually wouldn't look up the artists at all; I'd just show up. Though for this show I happened to look her up and just loved Ms. Barnett's music so much I listened to her stuff for weeks. I long ago lost count as to how many youtube views of the NPR tiny desk concert are from me.
     So I'm sitting in the bar of one of my favorite music venues of the time, The Outer Space, trying to work up the nerve to talk to anybody when I see Courtney walk over to the bar. I can't seem to approach any normal person so of course I can't approach Courtney Barnett, the coolest gal I've ever read a wikipedia article about... But I imagine a line I would say if I did go up to her.

      The show happens and she rocks, of course. I didn't end up talking to anyone, but I did get right up front, 'cause I knew even if I met no one I'd still have a good night if I was able to be right there, singing along with her songs. It was great and I cried while I sang Depreston with her.
     After the show, there's this narrow hallway at this venue, and everyone is sort of packed in it walking leaving going wherever. All of a sudden, there's Courtney, right in front of me. Our eyes meet and I think to myself, "Say the line! Say the line!" I'm freaking out on the inside but I haven't talked to anyone at all and that's really why I'm there so I just blurt it out, "Hi! What's your name!"

     For the record, I didn't come up with this line. My friend gave it to me, and I liked it. Simple. No sort of angle. Just honest. And it worked! She responds, "Well I'm Courtney, what's yours?"
     Holy Shit Courtney Barnett is talking to me. That goes through my head. I'm not totally sure what I said next but I know I told her about some delicious local food I knew about, Ivy Noodle. After that brief talk Courtney launches a complete left hook at my jaw. Not a literal one mind you; figuratively. She says, "So, what're you doing after the show?"
     Now perhaps, probably, she was just curious and/or making conversation. But my ego could not completely dismiss the scientific probability, albeit slim, that maybe just maybe, Courtney friggin' Barnett wanted to hang out with ME. That's what went through my head at the time at least, and honestly I just wasn't ready for that. My whole paradigm had just begun to shift, like a tectonic plate shifting. "I... I... I don't know!" I manage to stutter out in a higher pitch of voice than normal. My mighty earthquake.
     There are people everywhere and someone else gets her attention and that was that. I was too busy kind of digging out of my own rubble to say much of anything else for the rest of the night. But that was all I needed. I had just hit it off with Courtney Barnett! And she is -too cool- So, why am I so afraid of talking with anyone? I got the whole band to sign a vinyl I bought there and it's one of my prized possessions now... Not that I have very many, as I sold most of them (not the vinyl. That's safely in the parents' attic) and am living on my bicycle now, trying to accomplish my dream of crossing the country on it, as you all know.
     I write all this now because I think it is in large part thanks to Courtney Barnett and the seemingly benign interaction we had that really propelled me forward. I think my experience goes along with her music too—careful observations of the seemingly benign actually holding meaning beyond what some of us can see. I can talk to anyone and everyone now. I picked up the harmonica and can walk around a Wal-mart playing it. I don't care if I get rejected or if people stare or if someone doesn't like me...
     'Cause I hit it off with Courtney Barnett.

So cool!

Here's her fan page for all ya'll to check out! You know you want to!
https://www.facebook.com/groups/405443019660289/

     Food Review:

 A new friend I made named Alex worked here.
I had been in a couple times to find him but I kept missing him.
When a man I met at the mall who told me this was a good place I knew I had to check it out.

 I ask Isabella and Marla is they're enjoying their time here.

"The prices are reasonable. The buffalo deviled eggs are so worth it!"

 I was hoping.

 Reasonable by Boston, MA area standards.

 The inside has a nice ambiance and is really clean.

 My new friends show off their dishes.
Caitlyn got the North Shore Fish Fry,
"This is the best potato salad I've ever had and quite possibly the best fish fry I've ever had."

 Brandon got the Bacon Jam Burger

"So good I finished it, which never happens!"

 Dan delivers my little dish of poutine I ordered.
We talk photography before he leaves me with my food.

Poutine is a sort of uncommon dish outside of montreal

but this little contender here lives up to its Northern predecessor.

 The simple pairing of potatoes with cheese curd is really multiplied by the delicious BBQ sauce as per Naum Keag style. The potatoes were friend not boiled so it was a little different than Montreal poutine.

Dan's photography is on the wall!

This week's guest photographer is:
Daniel Piasecki!
Check his stuff out at DanPiaseckiphoto.com

Whether you are stopping in for dinner, lunch, or a quick drink, Naum Keag Ordinary is really just that

but in all the right ways.

Ordinary people eating, talking, relaxing.

Nice and clean, but nothing too too ritzy or shiny to attract the flies.
Just down to Earth people handing you good food.

What more can we ask for?

     Pictures:

 One last ride through MIT on my way outta Somerville.

 This little park became my home for a few nights.

 The I had a Fun Little Night the first night
but didn't get much sleep.

 I was blah enough to seek a yummy breakfast somewhere.
This place seemed legit.

 Turns out The Salem Dinner actually got bought by Salem university across the street a couple years ago!

They put Luis here in charge.

I'd say he's doing a pretty good job!

This Honey Challah French Toast is great!

He actually works for Chartwells
which is odd considering he basically completely runs the restaurant

including his own recipes on the menu.

 The only constant is change.

How long will The Salem Diner stand here?
A museum with edible artifacts.

 Derrick here comes in every day for a bagel.

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xaq0t9OQOd8

 I found an awesome group of people in a cool lounge at the local university.
Hung out there for two days haha.

I ate well thanks to their generosity

and waste.

 Thank you Salem University!
You are a truly beautiful group of people there.
Enjoy your time together!

 There are worse places to sleep.
This one has a blanket!

 In the course
of time | a Town Pump was sunk into the | source of the ancient spring;

and | when the first decayed; another took its place — and then another, and still another
— till here stand I.

 The poem on this fountain was amazing
but the real experience comes from reading it yourself.

You'll just have to go to Salem, MA and see it yourself/

I went in to just get some water for my ride that day.

That was a great sandwich.

The Fountain Place actually convinced me to stay for a while longer!

 Leaving Salem

but just to retrieve my stuff!
I planned to come right back.

Most of the flags at this memorial were faded.

 From one pepper

Many seedlings.

I was very thankful for this bagel.

It was just what I needed.

 Town House Square of Salem by night.

Town House Square of Salem by day.

 This dog woke me in the morning.
What a friendly guy!

 It's a new day
and sleeping on the bay here ain't so bad...

I get to wake up to this!
Waking up to watch the sun rise over the water is exhilarating

It's a new day.

"Hey look at that cute dog!"

 I was directed to Artist's Row for hand made art!

 Artist's Row at night is still cool.

 The Hulk is my favorite.
He's everything I'm not.
Including green.

 All the kids in Salem are skateboarding these days.

 There used to be an old building here.
Now there's not.

I wonder what hand
Hawthrone had
in creating this town.

 Time to move a mattress!

Safe inside.
It's a nice feeling.
A nice one you take for granted
when you've had it all your life.

 Dandelion Root tea with Brown Sugar.

Picked this phone up in Chicago
It didn't work for me then
but of course once I give it away it turns right on.

No visit to Salem would be complete without a romp in the cemetery.

The ambiance of the resting place
changed a bit

by all the families and kids running amok.

 The Salem Commons

 I like this cemetery better.

 'Bit o' local history for yah

 It's been a while since I've organized my pack.
I need to unload some stuff soon!

 I want to say I've come a long way
but I'm too close to home now.
I want to say that I have everything under control
but I don't even know how I'll be eating two days from now.
I want to say "I got this"
but I need a pat on the back first.
I want to say I have a Lion Heart
but the road hasn't told me yet.
I want to say a lot of things.
The only way we are able to say anything
is by doing them.

     Poetography: 
     
     "Bewitched"

     She's floating above the world
     encased in her brown sea
     Waiting at the foyer
     greeting each passerby
     with her frightening stone gaze
     Is she happy up there?
     within the crescent moon
     Above, unreachable, but alone
     Come down to Earth
     once in a while
     I'd say
     it ain't always so bad.
     But if you are happy
     twitching your nose
     looking down
     then what can I say? 
     you'll hear what you want to hear anyway.

     Today's Stanza:

     Wake up
     with the sunrise
     and the orange to blue sky
     fish splashing, birds calling
     clear
     It's a new day.
     Today is a brand new day.



** Rules and Regulations: Void where prohibited by law. The author reserves the right to make all personal decisions regarding his himself at all times. Feel free to follow him around though. It's a free country. You'll have to be able to keep up, of course. Absolutely no refunds (as your money will actually be going to a homeless lady). If you are willing to pay for any possible travel expenses the author is open to suggest regarding meeting at the location of your choice to adventure and explore there. Also, for the record, this is a totally serious offer. You really can come hang out with me if you give that lady $1000 (you can probably hang out with me anyways even if you don't give poor Bernice any money but if you do not donate and come hang out anyways then that is all we'll do together; just give money to homeless ladies. Do you think you have anything better to do with your time? Statistically no, you don't. Neither do I and I haven't given $1000 to Bernice but I'm just sayin').

Though lest I be called hypocritical, and in the spirit of leading by example, I will give Bernice a donation so that she may at least get her $300 medicine and eat. 33 is my mother's special number, so that seems like a good number to me.
I live on my bicycle
I don't have any income
I now have exactly $1111.11 in my bank account
and I have a looooong way to go.

You read this far.
Did you give $1?