Ok, so this is a mediocre waterfall by any standard, but it's a lead in to a little story. At Black Rock Mountain State Park, I went on a little hike to a waterfall not unlike this one, and noticed lots of strange synchronicities. First, I heard someone use a baseball reference, which I noted as city folk bringing their home with them into nature. Then I saw an actual softball randomly on the trail. Finally, I saw an abandoned baseball bat at one of those little outdoor auditorium areas where rangers give their talks. Hmm. Ok, not too weird. Maybe I'm just proud of myself for remembering each of these isolated observations and tying them together in a cohesive theme. Then, minutes later, after I hiked down to the falls, I had the song, My Proud Mountains by Townes Van Zandt (my guy) going through my head. The lyrics that passed through my mind at the moment I looked at the falls were "Rivers like gypsies, down her black canyons fall". The song is also about Colorado, which is where I last saw a sign for the continental divide. Well it just so happens that this State Park is on the Eastern Continental Divide. Hmmm, the plot thickens. Then, as I sat pondering the book I had been reading, the Dharma Bums by Keroac, I looked over and the words "Dharma Bum" were carved into the railing. WTF??? weird and wild stuff.  

Shower. I stopped by the side of the road for the first of many river baths. This is where the biodegradeable soap comes in handy. I spent a few hours reading and climbing around on the rocks. 

Leaving Athens

Leaving Athens, I wove my way through the beautiful mountains and rivers of Northeast Georgia on Hwy 441.  Some of the driving was treacherous- narrow winding roads- but the natural splendor more than soothed the nerves.  

Housekeeping

Housekeeping

Just now, I realized that I have left out lots of administrative and explanatory items from the description of this here blog.  

January 06:
My father, in Seattle, graciously lent me his motorhome/ van (see pic earlier) to use for the Spring semester of my graduate studies in Psychology at the University of West Georgia.  I sledded and drove it home in 7 days.  I say sledded because I stupidly went East over the mountains in an attempt to save on gas and did a 360 on a sheet of ice disguised as a road in Idaho.  There are now matching front and back dents- how cute.  This is the 3rd car of his I’ve crashed, come to think of it.  Sorry Pa.  

Now 06:
Dad wants his rig back, so I’m making the return trip home, this time a bit more circuitously.  I’ll be avoiding strict planning, instead relying mostly on the insights of locals as my compass.  

So far, I’ve hit Atlanta, GA, Athens GA, and spent a couple days heading through the mountains on the way to Asheville, NC.  After that, it’s to Tennesse for Bonarroo music festival, and then Nashville.  After that, I’m open to suggestions.  

My original plan was to interview people for a potential ‘research’ project, but I feel myself being unable to do this.  I don’t want to approach the road with an ‘agenda’.  I feel humble and open to its teachings.  

Some snippets of today's observations

Some unfiltered snippets of today’s (6/6/06) observations:

Vet school girl was so lost in her world. She couldn’t take more than 2 weeks of vacation when she graduates after 8 straight years of school and work. What? She is guaranteed big $ when she finds a job as a vet. Why not? Not connected to reality. Hasn’t taken a vacation in 7 years. We all have our insanity.

Lady talking a blue streak. Very bright and very comfortable with herself. There are prophets among us. “Everyone knows everything”- Keroac

Looking for a place that subjectively feels right. A place with a patio in the shade and cheap beers and friendly people. The Armageddon sign sealed it. For whatever reason, I feel like writing intelligibly all of a sudden.

Yelled at a girl- where you going? And ‘nice smile’. Scared them all away. Sat with ‘future me’, older dude, ordered a salad and a beer.

It’s so hard not to hate bigoted and unduly privileged stupid southern bastards. Actually, its even harder to love the talented ones. It’s harder still to love the smug northerner narcissists like me. Bastards, all of em.

The awning was riddled with the same randomness as constellations, and the metaphor was that much more the obvious due to the light shining through the holes in this dawning dusk.

Birds in formation, impossibly synchronized, I can’t help but think that watching them is healing for my mind. It is like acupuncture for the brain, each bird massaging a distinct little plot of my lobe, tilling away and rubbing my soul just as it needs.

…sitting in one place, as I did on the bench today, will bring something like the bitter medicine we refuse; for me: the drunk homeless black guy. And the universe screamed, "Humility!!"

Moon rising, dusk changing into itself, imperceptibly, beyond all measurement, an infinitely subtle shade at a time, outside of time. Causation is correlable, but never what it seems.

sexy, disbelieving, and trying to study: a portrait- #2 in a series of 2. I said she looked latin or something. Maybe it was the hair. She's 100% Irish. Even after my harrassment, they wanted one of my cards, even after I tried to wrestle it away. Lots of mixed messages. I'll never understand girls. Oh, that's another thing I forgot to mention. I have road trip 'business cards' with the blog address that I'm handing out along the way.

Turns out the apocalypse was also the night before Maymester finals- double whammy! This being the case, the reaction to my drunken harrassment of these studious ladies was less than warm. Observation: Today, two different people said they flat out didn't believe my stories of the road. This has never happened before. I'm not sure what this is all about. I hardly believe some of it myself, come to think of it. That seems to be a theme of these times: our lives are not real. we don't 'have' our experience. I'll check in on this periodically. 

talented waiter hauling away my empties... :P 

sample of downtown building/ tree 

Met these fillies at the local Athens brewery- whoa, the beer was GOOD, maybe that much better knowing it might be my last, being the end of days and all. Favorite: Dunkel Wiezen, which I mispronounced Weezin, just like i always do when ordering (deadpan) Heef Weezen, just to see the reaction/ get corrected. We ended up randomly meeting up later and bar hopping a bit. Don't think their boyfriends liked me much- lots of overt jealousy. "This is Greg- we met him earlier- he's on a roadtrip from Atlanta to Seattle! Isn't that exciting???!!" Boyfriend, frowning and fiery hatred in his eyes: "OH". That could have been the end right there. come to think of it, I avoided much potential demise today.

A visit from Evander

A visit from Evander

Just as I was sitting down on a bench outside the van to sample some of my feast while it was still warm, a very intimidating black guy who resembled, and was built like, Evander Holyfield boldly rode his bike up to my bench and plopped himself down.  Instinctively, I quickly packed away my camera and pretended to be ‘just leaving’.  It turns out the guy was piss drunk.  He started mumbling and slurring to me as if I was an old friend, telling me about how he almost just killed a guy in the park.  

Although the subject matter was disconcerting to say the least, I no longer felt threatened due to his syrupy drunk tone, so I simply listened.  He told me the guy in the park wanted to f*@& his lady and he would have shot him if he hadn’t already done 10 years ‘on the chain gang’ down in Florida.  He was a specimen of a man- told me he was 48 years old.  Could hardly believe it.  

After a while, I gave him some chicken and we talked for about an hour.  He was telling me about how he gets marginalized by the business community in Athens, and even offered a demonstration, walking into a nearby restaurant to use the bathroom.  When they allowed him to use it, he said that was because they saw him outside talking and laughing with a white dude, and also because there were no customers in the restaurant to keep things ‘clean and safe’ for.  I can’t say I didn’t mostly believe him.  Evander was talking lots of sense with his slurs.  

Near the end of the conversation, he said how much he appreciated our communication. (I probably said a combined 20 words, mostly ‘mhm’, ‘you said it brotha’, and ‘sho ya right’).  This guy had lived with some hardship.  Two of his many philosophical gems from all this living: “Nobody owes me nothin- Lots of people talk about oppression and white man this and that, but I just deal with my situation.  Nobody owes me nothin” and “there’s all different types of people, all colors and religions and beliefs, but you know what we all have in common?” me:what?  “We all people.  We all human beings”.  He knew this so deeply that I felt it.

Then he tried to get me to give him money and I made my exit, not showing him my van.  See, we could connect as humans, but we still had our roles to play- the ones where I try to avoid being mugged and he tries to street-wise sweet talk me into a donation for his next bottle of respite.  

Looking back, we healed each other.  He showed me his world.  I listened.  He ate and safely sobered up. I got to spread some of my wealth of chicken.  I learned a lot.  We smiled, laughed, and after it all, when I tried to give him a handshake he said “we can do better than that” and gave me a great big Evander hug.  

What I need is so rarely what I want.  This experience opened my aperture to the light of situations.  Situations.  

For lunch, I went to this Indian joint that looked pretty good... but the sign said CLOSED. So, naturally, I tested the door: Open. I find this philosophy often yields adventure and fortune: push until I feel resistance. The door didn't resist. I was past the sign. Inside, this wonderfully kind Philippino man told me I could take as much of the buffet I could carry, as he was going to throw it all away. When I explained my mode of travel, he even provided me with the tupperware that would fit perfectly in the van's mini fridge. A true road angel. On the road, I find myself, in turn, losing and regaining faith in humanity several times per day. This guy put me back into the company of the faithful. Then again, I wondered why there isn't a program to distribute this food to the huge homeless population in Athens. This thought went through my head as I walked back to the van past the hungry eyes of the street dwellers, fearing a mob scene if I gave any away.  

Apocalypse Happy Day. I woke up this morning, stumbled out of the van, and found a nearby bench suitable for guitar strumming, and a restaurant employee swept some dust out of the door and cheerily said: "It's a beautiful day for Armageddon." I think he meant it. And it really was... beautiful that is 

My first Karoke xtravaganza... at Tasty World in Athens. All you can eat wings. Next time I smuggle in tupperware. The dude in the hat NAILED that 4 Non Blondes song: "and I try, OH MY GOD (caps in the highest note you can imagine) do I try". Funny/shocking/impressive from such a regular Joe looking brotha. 

So there I was springing into summer

So there I was, springing into summer before the fall, the inevitable fall.

This bohemian drugged bookishness permeated the air.  Maybe it was just me, but I could almost taste the floaty idealism and left-wing intolerance of intolerance.  Perhaps I am moving away from this camp, myself: Before I left, I attended a house party for moveon.org.  The only thing going through my mind was how polarized we are, red blue, left right, rich poor.  “Hug a republican” was all I could think and all I had to say.  We’ve all got our reasons.  When I attack you, you get entrenched.  The cycle continues.  

Natural wisdom

If our human civilization project is to be successful, it will be due to a combined internet of a system, drawing on the unique capabilities of each human being, just as nature so deftly and efficiently uses all of the plants, animals, and insects and minerals at its disposal.  Nothing wasted.  And there is a beauty and a music to nature, everything moving through cycles and interdependent, from the shiva forest fires to the ethereal morphing cloud river sea to the Christian gazelle turning its neck to resurrection.

Paul said it today.  As a true artist, wild haired and eyes glazed, gently, he said it: “Once you start to see the world and think for yourself, you can’t go back.”  How many times have a heard these words, always relayed with a tinge of regret but an overall acceptance and even pride.  For it is only a member of a rare and authentic group that would think to pull these words out of the air to their tongues.  

Here is a picture of the visual layer of my mind directly before writing this: I looked up, and suddenly the sky and the courthouse and the sunlight and the birds we all alive and vibrating. Two girls walked by and I gave them my most mischievous smile, and one of them smiled back. I thought about those birds, sailing through the light, free- their habitat in our decorative trees. Yes, we would die without those trees, as surely as they would. I thought about their wisdom and their patience.
 

Quote from Paul: "I just love music! Have since I was a kid." The silly hairdo world leaders shown in the picture are part of a series of art that Paul is hoping to show in New York. He also hosts weekly experimental combined music and video shows. Interesting dude. I visited him the next day and I don't think he recognized me.

A guy named Paul runs a book and record store at the West end of Washington St. Wild haired and wild eyed, he keeps records spinning on an old player outside his shop. We talked for quite awhile about college students and cultural trends. He said he feels like a Jew in Germany in the late 30s with all the 'square' cookie cutter kids glaring at him all the time.  

They say life imitates art... Teresa, Surriender, and Angelish strike a pose. 

At some point I stopped into this soul food restaurant and got my Eat On. The food wasn't as good as some in Carrollton, but the people were so nice. Here is a painting of some of them.  

Sunday, Monday, Tuesday in Athens have all blended together in my mind. I spent lots of time at the Hot Corner 24 hour coffee shop. Women's bathrooms are so elegant.  

Moments before being apprehended by the Athens sidewalk special forces chief, Athens native, and REM frontman Michael Stipe.

If you followed my bicycle trip blog, you know I have to include disturbing shots of dead animals. Dang, that's nasty!  

Skills indeed! Next stop Athens GA! Saturday found me on the road to Athens, an hour east of Atlanta (I know its the wrong way from Seattle ("I expected the rocky mountains to be a little rockier than this"- name that movie quote)) One of my goals is to see a bit of the south that I have been too busy to explore. So I'll be weaving a bit. Ok, so who's the hottie? I spent some time killing Pabsts (had a big conversation on how to pronounce that word!) with Ashley, an undergraduate at the university of Georgia here in Athens. The town is pretty heavily focused on the University- there are statues of Bulldogs scattered all over. Gets a little annoying. The town reminds me of Bellingham, in its size, focus on university, and art/ music scene. There's a crapload of live music every night of the week. I went to the famous 40 Watt for a concert Saturday night, but after my (not so) fun run and swilling Pabsts all afternoon, I inadvisedly sat on a couch at the concert and slept right through most of the show.  

A driveby sample of tag art in Atlanta... I forget where.  

I was too cheap to pony up the dime...  

After the run, I had had my fill of Virginia Highlands. I went to hunt more adventure. As I passed by this sign, I knew it would be my kind of festival. The other one was a bit too 'suburban' in flavor. Cabbagetown is anything but suburban. It reminds me very much of the Georgetown neighborhood in Seattle: industrial flavor, originally built around a cotton mill that still stand. People were very friendly and unpretentious: a mix of 'roadhouse' tattood gearhead types, ragtag kids in the streets playing chess on a turned over milk crate, and old timers on porches watching the 'festival', which was heavily junk art focused. This is a special neighborhood. I hope the new money that is flowing in, while being necessary and welcome, doesn't destroy the folksy feel.  

After 2 miles of high fiving and passing people, I was spent, and more than a few old ladies whizzed past me. I'll bet I took almost as long on that last mile as the first two combined. But I made it. And the best part, of course, was the finish line panoply of sponsored refreshments. I stuffed my pockets with natural, raw food Lara bars. They fit perfectly in the mini freezer. For the next 4 days, my legs were raw nerves, drilled by each harsh concrete step.  

After checking out Little 5 Points neighborhood, went to find a parking place for the night in the Virginia Highlands neighborhood. They were having a festival starting Saturday morning. I found a good spot and after running around the streets in the rain, I went to bed. Saturday, I wake up to some commotion outside the van. I had parked at the starting line to a 5k Fun Run :) I was already up and it was a beatiful morning, so I figured 'what the hell'- I'll run. So I found the race organizers, and it worked out that someone had already paid but called in to cancel. So I inhabited this person's number and shirt. I tucked into the van for some last minute water as the race was starting (the pic), before taking off down the road screaming "Wait for ME!!!"  

Harsh reality of impending poverty sets in. Time to outfit the van to run on vegetable oil.