Some three millennia before, rose along the Ly’u-bol Glas-p’oo,  the Sy’u-gi’ Ckulp’c in the R’um-ja’ of Mo’Bu-Ju’, with its odd gray and misshapen stones and its queer looking peoples. Translucent red, with loose and heavy skin, elongated noses, flabby lips and protuberant eyes, the peoples of Ckulp’c were considered a horror to behold. However, their…

While it may seem like I’m in deep contemplation, it’s also possible I’m simply thinking about ‘boobs.’

And here I thought the worst thing Trump could do as President was admit he had sex with Hillary at one point.

Did you miss me? No? Hmm… I missed you! Well, so much for running away from problems and taking 30-days to travel about. Life on the road isn’t like it had been a few years ago, but I’ll bring you up to date when I post my journal entries for those days a little later…

It took me a little more than half the day to finally get home, having hitched a ride from a fella named Jim, in the back of his pick-up truck. I showered, and dressed in clean clothing, ate a thick peanut butter and jelly sandwich and downed two cups of freshly brewed coffee. My stomach…

Tired, sore, hungry and stupid. These have been my four companions all this day as I struggle to recover from the night before and this morning. Allow me to preface this with a few extra facts that didn’t seem pertinent yesterday, but seem to play a solid roll in my life this day: Jake, Karen…

Late in afternoon I tripped upon a homeless encampment. There were some fifty people here, from children to slightly older than me and it has me unsettled. When I first realized I was nearby this tucked out of the way place, I was confronted by a pair of men who wanted to know what I…

“You Can’t Go Home Again,” is a novel by Thomas Wolfe published posthumously in 1940. I cannot help but think of that title and apply it to my situation now. Only the third day out and I have realized that the life of a vagabond, bum, or what have you – isn’t as it was…

It’s a slight hole-in-the-wall diner, standing alone in a partially graveled and partially asphalted driveway and parking lot. My wife and I have eaten there on occasion while visiting Sacramento. Good food as I recall. And I’m certain my memory is correct as the delicious odor of cooking wafts through the air. It was behind…

The smell of burnt diesel, trapped under the overhang of the bus station and caught in the chilled night air stung my nostrils. We few passenger’s stood ready to board the Greyhound, with fewer loved ones to offer goodbyes, towards the Bay Area. The plan, which I held loosely in my head, was to travel…