june twentysixth 2010

06/23/10

Even though it's merely on Greyhound, it feels good to be moving across the vertical plane.
On the road! Cashews, dried mango and semi fresh cherries are my travel fare, and my Kalamazoo bred Gibson RB250 circa 1970 is making it's maiden voyage with me (- i really need to get this thing insured.)

This is time to heal, Dallas will be the Maelstrom, Fort Worth the Gateway, and Weatherford the Last Outpost and Lipan... Rest.

Milana comes on Friday and so too hopes of progressing through the unlit corridor and again into the Wood and on to Open Country.

the City, even Austin, takes it's toll, there's grit on every street and the cars have it for
breakfast, so too do the drivers i suspect. and in Texas the Sun beats down to remind us of
Trees and Water, although some only think Air Conditioning.

My phone is off and i won't know what time it is until i get to Dallas.
Salado is sleeping out of Time; an anachronism on a map, outwardly hiding things like the
the Interweb and Plasma T.V.