1/7/2017
Slippery Slime. That's how I'd sum up the collective vibe of the Earth right now. It's almost 3 in the morning. I just opened the first beer I've had since leaving San Francisco a couple of months ago. My buddy and I considered loading into his multi-color Saturn automobile, leaving on a mission to Washington D.C. to go witness the Donald Trump's inauguration in person, but ultimately we decided to stay here on the Cumberland Plateau, and just watch the live televised coverage over the internet. The same friend and I took an impromptu road trip to Baltimore from Florida the day after the Freddie Gray riots broke out. We lost 99% of the video footage from that trip, but one clip survived. Here's a link to the surviving video for your viewing pleasure, but that's all one more story for another day.
Halfway through this beer, I'm reminded of another time, months ago. I was in Olympia, Washington. I had been there a few days, sleeping in the alcove of the back door of a mechanic shop, on the concrete in my sleeping bag. The city had already impressed me as one of the strangest in the United States. There was lots of good beer there along with an abundance of a sort of raw live music I was really digging on.
I woke up early that morning to go get free breakfast from the Salvation Army.
