Friday, October 29, 2010


Today, I had to make up a pick up at a Federal Prison in El Reno Oklahoma.
The apprehension set in just upon seeing it in the distance.
Then the entrance.
Then the gate
Then the wire
As I entered, They searched the truck. Then me. Then they took my laptop, phone, and camera.
Then they made me sign this form and that saying yes and no and of course I understand the consequences.
By the time I was within the razor wire, I felt like one of them. Not the guards, they had guns. And my pocket knife.
It's strange how being in intense environments can make you part of it.
The same thing happened the other day in the underground of Kansas City.
It took more than one song and some distance to cure me both times.
I wondered if it's always so.
That feeling when we go underwater, is it of drowning or as becoming a fish?
Men in space-do they feel as little planets? Or the bolts of their ships?
It's not always so.
I've been to fairs and carnivals and felt anything but the joy they dupe and sell.
I think there are environments too weak to alter moods we already lay claim to. But the ones that fall like a shadow from the sky and convince us we can be had, like love, and bitterness and captivity-have a power to take us into the bosom of its fire and make us its very fuel, in order to consume itself in a greater conflagration.
I wish no part in a larger whole.
Anyway, I've escaped and find myself in Russellville Arkansas on a Friday night wishing to be anywhere else except El Reno.
Gonna shoot across I-40 on my way to North Carolina. Don't forget to wave as I pass by.

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Subtropolis Pics

Got online a minute so quick posted a couple pics of subtropolis and carefree caves (yeah, right) believe it or not, thousands of people work down here, below Kansas City.

Monday, October 25, 2010


This morning i delivered to this strange place in kansas city. 1100 acres of warehouses and offices underground.
Streets, a post office-everything.
Except natural light and breezes.
And apparently there are many of these subterranean hell holes in KC. I loaded in another.
Limestone, a new kind of real estate.
The people i talked to there seemed dark, sullen. I asked one of these strange moles if he didn't miss daylight.
But i'm not sure if he could remember.
I too, felt dark n sullen while there, and such relief upon exiting.
Now i drive a winding hiway with the windows down and a cool wind blowing the trees n fields around me.
Gordon lightfoot is singing of ships n storms.
Things could be worse
Much worse
So i sing n breathe deeply

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Monday, October 18, 2010

More Office Pics

hello you sneaky bastard

always light at the end

lazy honkers taking a break

bet it's fun at midnite


calling me home

Justin, a new friend I'll never see again

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

The Wrong Side

Last night,

I found myself in a hell-hole of a town in West Virginia.
I'd fought the mountains, the rain, and myself all day, I badly needed a walk along some tracks. And as usual, they were there.

But as I started walking south, I glanced back over my shoulder.

There, across the ditch, across the four lanes of heavy traffic, over the median, was a young man working the off- ramp for change. Just he and the dog.
From the distance I guessed him to be Native American, maybe Chinese, maybe Mexican, who knows. He was hatted low and bundled deep against the gray cold and he, just too much of a worn out shadow to tell for certain.
But the dog was a tiny poodle-like creature on a leash. They both were mostly ignored and I turned back to the tracks.
Later, as i returned down the tracks, I noticed him across the expanse walking in the direction I now returned from. Our eyes met briefly and I watched him gingerly guide the frail dogs trot.

I wish I had been on his side, not for his sake but for mine. I wish i could've blown him a twenty along with a kiss across the highway. But the fuckin fords on their fuckin way to fuckin monday night football and PTA meetings and fat suppers would've trampled both.

So it was just the eyes.

I wish i had taken him to my truck so that we might've sat cross-legged on the bed while he told me his story, maybe share a beer, maybe laughed.
I wouldn't have asked him where he was going, that question is never fair.
Then maybe we'd lean back against opposing walls and talk of the dog's story as he rubbed its trusting neck. The dog, this dog, is perhaps the only friend who never betrayed him.

But I didn't-we didn't.

See, I was going this way, and he that way, and on opposite sides and all and then all them fucking fords keeping fucking schedules, and, well, we just didn't.
I slept in a warm bed with a full belly and a pocket full of useless coin. I don't know where they slept. I didn't earn the right.

But I have some hopes; I hope he keeps the dog and the dog him. I hope he makes another friend. I hope someone misses him. I hope there's a love for him somewhere.
I also hope he doesn't wish for more than he and the dog need. That would be tragic. He'd become just another pissed off ford late for american idol.
Or maybe a lost trucker with money who's only comfort is an empty rail road track on the wrong side of the fords.

He has the dog, he's better off than he knows. and the ford will come soon enough and he'll miss the dog.


Sunday, October 3, 2010

explanation and more pics

Dear Reader, please understand that any words I post to this site are done from my tiny phone on the highway. Blogger sees fit to space and paste without mercyand I am unable to edit and fix. When I come here and see how my words were laid out I nearly cry at how they read, but it is what it is. Please don't look for art in these posts. Just share my tangled thoughts with me please. Thank you, Rick

Night driving
a brilliant sun

a brilliant sunset

I love sunlight thru trees

mmmm, water!

geese keeping me company

a fine place to pee

Saturday, October 2, 2010

Mississippi in the morning

Woke up this morning in Baton Rouge
My creole blood likes the name, but not really much to see.
I'm northern by nature and birth as my creole blood migrated long ago and i find the south too snakey and too bible belt for my sandstorm ways.

But i have to say, as i plunder my way to Virginia and mountains too strong for this piss ant truck, if there's anything more beautiful than mississippi in the morning-marry it.
I've travelled this land and beyond steady for four decades now and ain't much i haven't seen.
But this early morning october saturday has gifted me generously with a sun like raindrops on fire through trees too grand to describe.
Mississippi, i applaud and thank you for such a spectacular performance!

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