Santa Fe, New Mexico

Santa Fe, New Mexico

6:17am I have driven over a 1000 miles since I left Austin, Texas, and I am merely just one state away. I still have quite a few miles and a few states to cross before I arrive to Long Beach, California. My rig has been parked in front of my sister’s house since Tuesday afternoon. I haven’t cranked it once since I parked it, choosing to use my feet to get places instead. Santa Fe is such a walk-able city. Seems like you can get anywhere you need to go on foot or bike, and what a relief that is. It’s much smaller than Austin so you really don’t need a car. Plenty of hip artist types as in Austin, along with everything they often bring to a city such as plenty of yoga, pilates, and slick coffee shops to choose from. There are artist studios everywhere, or maybe it’s just the neighborhood where my hosts Virgine & Tanya live, I don’t know… In the next day or so, they have promised to take me to Canyon Street, where most of the galleries in town are located. Rich people from all over the world come here to buy art. It’s an amazing thing, really, and though it makes sense when you think about it, it’s still a weird phenomenon. Why this place? Why not another? And why buy art only in certain locations? Why not find it everywhere you go? I guess, if you can tell your friends: I bought this in New York City, or in Paris, or in Santa Fe, then somehow this gives more value to...
First Break Down

First Break Down

I crossed the Texas border into New Mexico. I have driven 757 miles since I left my parents house in Liberty Hill. I haven’t been on the road two weeks, and it feels like this is all I’ve ever done. Driving from place to place. Pitching my camp wherever I feel like. Chilling. Writing. Reading books. Watching movies. Playing with my dog. A few days ago, I had a small mental break down. It was my second day at Davis Mountain State Park. I arrived after an amazing few days in Mason, Texas—so amazing that I thought briefly: Why go on? This place is about as cool as it gets. I love the people, I’ve been offered a part time gig, I bet I can find a cheap place to stay, and I’ve already got half a dozen friends, each and every one of them an amazing individual? But I have to take this trip. I need to see the Pacific Ocean. I do. I paid for four nights at Davis Mountain in cash; as I realized that I simply could not sustain this financially. $23 is cheap, but when you don’t have a job, you need gas—averaging 13 miles/ gallon—you need to feed yourself and your dog, and all you’ve got for revenue are books and schwag; and you keep getting rejections from bookstores everywhere. Well then, $23 becomes a big deal. So I freaked out. This is normal. A few years ago when I lived in Paris, France, and didn’t have a job, nor any prospects, my friends dropped me off just north of Limoge at their...
Mason, Texas

Mason, Texas

I had to run into town this morning for a bathroom emergency…it was like: I got to get this rig to town faster than a Nascar driver on Viagra, or else it’s going to be a shit storm! For some reason I thought it was Sunday, and I was afraid the little supermarket wasn’t going to be open at 7am this morning. Lucky for me, it’s actually Saturday, and they were already in business. Once my emergency was taken care of, I was able to walk through the supermarket feeling like a new man, and being a new man on a quest to discover the world and all it’s inhabitants, and now with empty bowels as well as an empty stomach, I decided to buy myself one avocado, some local beef jerky and a couple of pink ladies—the small delicious apples—which I’m eating right now back at camp Spider Johnson while writing this masterpiece. By the way, Spider is an artist from Lubbock, Texas, who grew up and toured with some incredible West Texas musicians, and ended up settling in Mason in 1986 where he’s been making a living as an artist since. He’s been letting me park my rig on his property these last couple of days. I’ve had such an incredible time already. Much of it thanks to Tony Plutino who organized my whole visit. Yesterday, I parked my rig on town square, and Tony took me and Brutus all over Mason county and beyond. First we ran some errands, and we drove all over while he talked to me about his beloved town. He loves his...
Thank You Austin, You Rock!

Thank You Austin, You Rock!

Austin, this isn’t really goodbye, it’s more of a see you later, my old friend. I’ll be back. Sure, I don’t know when, or how, but those things are inconsequential. We’ll figure out the details at a later date. For now, I’ll be hitting the pavement, spinning my wheels, and steering the RV westward…or should I say zigzagging toward the West Coast. All points in between are acceptable stopping points because, what’s stopping me from stopping anywhere I’d like to stop? Unstoppable madness, if you ask me. Great big thanks to all my friends in Austin. What a goodbye party at the Whip In! Most of it is a bit of a blur. People just kept buying me pints of beers, and it’s really difficult for me to say no to a pint of beer, whatever the beer might be, whomever might be buying me said pint of beer…so there were times on Tuesday evening where I had as many as three pints of beer in front of me…like I said, they kept appearing, and I kept trying to empty them…it was like a dream come true: The Endless Fountain of Beer. There were so many cool beautiful wonderful amazing people. It was like a blur of goodness and happy people all over the place. I don’t know how many books I sold. I kept signing books, writing sloppy drunk messages of love on each one…several people have already contacted me since Tuesday evening to ask me to decipher my own handwriting. Turns out I actually enjoy signing book! My little books, Good Feeling, seven short stories, and, Beer...