Waiting for my new life to begin. Yes, I am finally moving.

Winds of change are fast approaching.

My love hangs laundry as I write.

In 3 days I will be on the road with a new lover, one whose intellect and kindness far surpass anything I could have ever hoped for.

So strange, sometimes the worlds I choose to immerse myself in seems so dreamlike, self-running, clean machine.

Light another joint from my Bible paper, and let Ben's music absorb me, absolve me.

I wonder what goes through his mind as he's busy laundry slaving.

Must seem strange to him. New womyn, nude, smoking foreign substances in his home. I wonder how often I run the fine line between goddess and pauper.

We're trying a new experiment for this road trip. With some new code freshly off the presses (augmented by php libraries I wrote a couple years back), Rain and I are planning to write from the road.

If we're not near a computer, we'll put our thoughts to paper to be transcribed later, and anytime we find an internet terminal, we can type it in, and check to see what readers are saying.

Rain kicked it off last night with the first entry, which I just transcribed into the new engine. I'll write more later, but before we leave, I've still got a couple days of work ahead...

Gotta go. Everybody leave a comment, so we can see what ya'll think. Peace and love.

Now I divulge a little more of the picture.

A few weeks ago, as Rain and I were pondering our futures, I told her that even though I wasn't quite ready to jump yet, I would move up to Missoula, sometime in the not too far future. Even though I had not yet set foot in Montana, I was that certain that it would be the next waypoint on my life's journey. I promised her this. I do not regret this promise.

At the end of last month, I was very, very tempted to go ahead and give 2-weeks notice at both of my jobs here. Dissolutioned and stressed out with work anyway, it would have made for a convenient escape. But I decided against acting too rashly; there have been several times in my past when I have jumped a little too quickly to get out of an uncomfortable situation without looking closely enough at what I'm going into, and this has hurt me. I don't want to keep repeating the same mistakes again and again.

I will move to Missoula; this I know. Maybe in 2 months. Maybe in 6. Definitely not more than a year from now. (Lately, I've been leaning much more toward the "2 month" plan, but this decision will not be made final until after we get back from our trip.)

For a while now, I have felt the spiritual pull of the pacific northwest calling to me. (If I were to pinpoint the moment it made its mark on me, August 2002 comes prominently to mind.) For a long time, I thought it might be Seattle, or Portland, or Olympia, or perhaps somewhere in the vicinity of Ran Prieur's land. Or... or... or... For the most part, all I really had to go on was the fact that so many voices whose resonance matched my own heart seemed to be coming from (or heading toward) that direction.

Montana never really occurred to me until this lover -- this gift from the Goddess, sent to me in answer to my invocations and psychic cries -- began to talk about Missoula, and how so many of her best friends had moved up there, and what a wonderous place it is, not only because of the mountainous country, but also the loving community of people who live there.

I spoke to a few others about this place, and every person I talked to who had been there verified that despite the small size of the town, it was something of a cultural and spiritual oasis.

And so tomorrow we will go, first to Colorado, where we will spend a few days visiting my native territory, where Rain also has a few relatives. Then up to Missoula, to explore, meet Rain's friends, seek out prospects, and enjoy our time together. Rain will also be looking to procure a place to rent; she is already, without a doubt, going to move there next month. (I'll leave it to her to decide whether or not she feels like describing more of the details behind that situation.)

When I move up later, we will not be living in the same residence. Though we love each other, we both decided that for the time being, it's best if we each keep our autonomy with regard to living spaces. She and her daughter will continue to live with the man the child calls "dad", and when I move up, I will figure out my own living arrangements. (Though I may have other roommates -- Rain knows of a little communal housing spot where she suspects I would fit in quite well.)

Now I have much to pack and prepare, and also work this afternoon, so I must get off this computer and get moving. We will leave bright and early tomorrow morning to arrive in Longmont before Jaeger and Kiesa leave, where they will generously be allowing us to housesit during our stay in Colorado.

I find myself filled with optimism and excitement.

We just passed under the bridge we spent so much of our hard earned tax dollars on. The Nebraska Archway. A peculiar thing. On the left hand side of the archway was a huge panel, grey haired gypsy looking gold digger / homeless man. In general, a menacing character. Beckoning me to come inside. At least the sunflowers are in bloom all over the plains.

(in the car)

Jaeger and Kiesa's back porch -- Rain and I sit, having just finished eating. The sun sets amidst an explosion of orange and pink to our left. Rain smokes her bowl. I took some photos, and now I write.

Last night, in the wee hours after midnight, we dined carniverously on steak and chicken, courtesy of the Open Harvest free writeoff employee benefit, and Rain's expert meat preparation skills.

This morning, we left a little later than I had hoped, due mostly to my own (failed) last minute idea to make mom a cd full of my digital photos. Oh well. Leaving at 10:00, we were still within our margin of error to arrive at Jaeger and Kiesa's place before their departure.

[As darkness falls, Bitscape and Rain migrate indoors, and sit at Ziyal to transcribe blog entries.]

All seemed to go smoothly as we transported out of Nebraska and into Colorado. That is, until I followed my own written directions to "turn right on highway 52" as the quickest way to Longmont. While preparing our route, little did I realize that Colorado actually has 2 distinct roads named "Highway 52", both of which intersect with I-76 at different points.

Though it seemed a bit early, I dutifully followed the sign and turned here, when I needed to stay on the Interstate and turn here instead. I knew something was amiss when we got to a T-intersection with highway 14 with no sign of I-25 in sight. But I decided to try making the best of it, and turned left on 14.

After a long stretch of speeding, worrying, saying "What the hell?", and hoping I wasn't going crazy, eventually we hit Fort Collins, from which I was easily able to navigate the rest of the way to our destination. Unfortunately, with our already tight margin of error, this put us far too late to rendezvous with Jaeger and Kiesa before their departure for the airport.

Luckily, they had left a (typed!) note and a key for us, so we were able to quickly get up to speed. I regretted not being able to say hello and introduce them to Rain, but I was glad to have completed the first leg of our journey, and find a place where we could rest, eat, relax, and meet both new and old feline friends.

Now, we will likely spend the remainder of the evening here relaxing, as many prospective adventures await us on the morrow. How lucky we are that their vacation coincided with ours, and they offered us this place to stay. (Cause yeah, though I usually stay with mom on trips to Colorado, bringing Rain over there for a multi-night visit could be all sorts of awkward. It already promises to be... I'll say "interesting"... when we go over to meet the family on Saturday.)

Oh yes, many adventures await. But for now, a little rest.

My love went to bed early around 8:15. He got up so early. I stayed up reading Kushiel's Dart by Jacqueline Carey. So beautiful, Ben got it for me before the road trip.

I'm on the porch smoking. The night is clear, and so is suburbia. No noise except my lighter. The cats inside are smelling my bag. The white one is growling at it. I had observed this before I went outside. I had a black cat named Myrr for several years, six years. I had to give her up recently to move. She was a long black haired cat. She was what they call a mitten kitten. Eight claws on both front paws. She was also my familiar, she slept on my altar and was very fond of Ben. Goddess bless her. I believe the cats here are smelling her on my backpack. I will go for a dead walk, no noise, suburbia. I will bathe and then rest. Food Not Bombs is tomorrow and I cannot wait.

Yesterday, Rain and I cooked the beans we had brought and made a big stew (plus the remains of a huge can of refried beans given to me as a gag gift by someone at Open Harvest who was regretfully sick and unable to make it to last month's party). During the first part of the day, I felt utterly drained of energy, despite having gotten a huge amount of sleep. But by the time we left for Boulder, I felt the vitality returning to my body.

We parked Tobias several blocks east of the Pearl Street Mall, and carried our large pots of warm nourishment all the way to the Boulder bandshell. Our mission: Food, Not Bombs.

Having been outside the vicinity of Boulder for a long period of time, I was uncertain about the status of local Food Not Bombs activity. Well... This time around anyway, we became the sole Food Not Bombs providers for the day. This provided a challenge; in my (wishful) thinking that the local crew would be around to provide plates and eating utensils, we had not brought any such implements. Rain quickly improvised, and ran across the street, promising to return with what we needed. A few minutes later, I spotted her walking back with a large stack of paper cups, and a handful of plastic spoons. Kudos to the Brewing Market for coming through!

In comparison to my attendance at Food Not Bombs of days past, turnout was quite sparse. We gave food to a few of the homeless people who happened to be in the area, as well as several random passers by. But this time, there was nothing even remotely resembling a crowd around us. Just a lone wanderer here and there.

After hanging out there for a while, Rain came up with an excellent idea: Instead of waiting for them to come to us, maybe we should go to them. Having passed a number of homeless people on Pearl Street, we knew they were there. Maybe if the local Food Not Bombs chapter had become inactive for a prolonged period, it would make sense for people to stop showing up.

So we picked up the food, walked over to Pearl Street, and began offering it to anyone who looked like they might be hungry. Rain did most of the talking, for which I was glad, because I was not feeling very outgoing. I carried the big kettle, and she dipped out portions of it to serve to anybody who wanted. We stopped at the fountain play area in front of the courthouse and hung out for a while, where there actually was a decent size crowd of various people.

In addition to serving food, we also handed out CrimethInc pamphlets to interested parties, and Rain gave out polished stones to anyone and everyone she thought could use a little love.

There was also an exquisitly beautiful transvestite queen sitting next to the fountain, decked out in all gothic black, adorned with many shiny chains and jewelry. Rain was looking at her too. At one point, I noticed that she was looking at me. We made eye contact for several seconds, and she smiled and made a small wave.

Rain went over and gave her a stone. I followed, and asked if she would mind if I take her picture. She consented, and I took several snapshots. (Happily, I did remember to bring my camera along on this voyage, but the posting of pictures will have to wait until the roadtrip is over, and I can get back to Argo to upload everything.)

We continued along the mall, and gave what remained of the stew to several more homeless people who were hanging out near the east end. We rinsed out the empty kettles in the fountain, and returned them to the car. Rain and I both agreed that our mission had been very much worthwhile. Despite our failure to meet up with local Food Not Bombs activists, we gave away all our food and had a great time. (My not-so-secret wish had been to see some of the same people I knew from a couple years ago again, but if one clings exclusively to such expectations, disappointment becomes inevitable. Best to just let go and run with the flow.)

After dropping off our stuff, we returned to Pearl Street, and visited several of the local shops. (Specifically, The Crystal Dragon, Lefthand Books, and the Lighthouse Bookstore.) We didn't buy anything on that occassion, though I was tempted by Derrick Jensen's A Language Older than Words. I may yet go back and purchase it later. We'll see.

We watched fire dancers, ate pizza, and Rain found some lucky money on the ground -- a wallet with several dollars in it, a target gift card, a few credit cards, some Whole Foods receipts, but no identification except a Stanford student id. We contemplated what to do. With no easy way to find the owner, Rain decided to pocket the cash and the target gift card. She suggested that perhaps if I wanted a new wallet, here was a pretty nice leather one. I considered it for a moment, but decided I did not want the baggage associated with this one, either symbolic or physical. So I folded it back up and put it on the corner next to one of the flower gardens. Maybe there's a chance whoever lost it will come back that way to find it (sans a little cash), or it will find its way into hands that need it more than mine. In any case, I'm happy with the wallet I already have, and don't need another one.

(Rain worried afterwards that I might think less of her for taking the money out, but I do not. I would much prefer the money be in her hands, where I know it is needed and will be put to good use, than those of the next random yuppie to pick the thing up.)

I bought my love some dinner at pizza calore. (Yes, we had just recently finished with Food Not Bombs, but in her single-minded efforts to give the stew away to anyone who might need it, she had barely gotten to eat any herself.) We both indulged our carniverous appetites, just a little.

We returned to the Second Temple of Castor and Pollux (or whatever it's called these days), listening to another episode of Zac's The Mosaic Effect along the way. (Before we left on the trip, I burned them all to cds -- Rain and I are both in love with his words and ideas as well as his voice. Yes, my lover and I make awesome road buddies.)

Back at our temporary "Home", we watched Asoka -- the one movie I had brought along on this road trip. I suspected she would enjoy it. She told me she did, and I had fun watching it a second time as well.

Both feeling quite exhausted as the clock approached 1am, we made our way to the provisioned guest bedroom. And that is where the public telling of this tale shall conclude. :)

I sit with my breakfast bowl. I can't get her out of my head. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Yesterday we woke up and started making food for Food Not Bombs. Beans and organic chili. With everything made, we headed out for Boulder.

We started to carry our pots to the bandshell on Pearl Street which incidentally reminded me of Hait Ashbury Street from years ago. When I was on tour with Phish.

Got to the bandshell, no spoons or cups, so I went to a local merchant to procure some. It was actually a coffee shop. (I want to thank the Brewing Market for their cups.) On the way back, I ran into a homeless man who I told we were doing Food Not Bombs at the bandshell. I told him to stop by after reassuring him it was all vegan food. I told him to pass the word around, and he said he would tell all the yuppies.

A few scraglers had walked by for food, but not much of a turnout. Ben told me more stories of the beautiful Circle A Ranch as we shared a bowl in the back of the bandshell, dedicated to the memory of Elijah, who got him high there once before.

Well, I said, Maybe we should walk on Pearl, where I saw so many homeless on the way in. Bring the food to the people. His eyes glimmer with excitement. I hand out most of the food and talk with tons of homeless people about where they are from, where they are going. We also gave out anarchist literature, courtesy of the CrimethInc kids. I posted some up on local billboards. When we walked by later, they were gone.

I brought with us leftover from the free store, we had at my angel's party. Polished stones and shells. I handed them out to lots of people, especially cute girls, I would stop them on the street and say Here, thrusting a stone in their hand, or letting them choose one from my hat. Most beautiful to see their expressions change, and words falling from their lips like, For me, really? Why?

One Goddess said after I handed her a stone, What is this for? Whatever you need it for, I replied.

I also met a very sweet 13 year old girl, she seemed very lonely and isolated from the lot. I walked past her, she was looking at me through her mound of black curls atop her head. I told Ben I had to go back and find her. I went back and found her and gave her a shell with 3 stones in it. I told her I was in servitude of the Goddess, and if she didn't know what that meant, she interrupted me, My mother and grandmother worship her also.

Everything in my being drew me back to that little girl. Maybe it was the way she reminded me so much of myself when I was her age. Isolated and alone. I grew up in group homes for several years, but that's another story. She thanked me for the gift, Triple Goddess, three stones, one shell.

I met lots of people. I sit next to Ben on Pearl Street as he eats. There is this Goddess.

I'm awestruck by her, as is Ben, he had commented on her beauty moments earlier. I knew I would speak to her, I waited. Waited for her eyes to find mine. The same color as mine. Much like a scene out of Headwig, my favorite movie.

She sees me. We lock eyes, now this is rare, I have been told I have a piercing stare. Most people will not look me in the eyes. It was like looking at a reflection of hurt, pain, and rebirth I understood so well. We look at each other for a very long time. I get up with my hat and offer food and my hat. She picks carefully, looking at every stone. She picks the last shell. This one calls to me, she says, in a whimsical, fairy like voice. I was not expecting that, voice. I swallowed hard. We just looked in each other's eyes. They locked again. I sat back down next to Ben and watched her as people attempted to talk to her, but she is absorbed in the shell. She runs her delicate hands over it to reveal the inner smoothness. She holds it to her heart, then gently as if a child puts it to her ear as if to hear it whisper to her. She sees me staring at her, blushes, and then looks to the ground.

Did that just happen to me? I say to myself. I walk around. I give out more stones. Did that just happen? Such spiritual connection, from one meeting. I go back to her, I long to be near her, I keep calling her Goddess, I don't know what I'm saying but I'm talking to her. Finally she asks me what my name is. Rain, I say. She closes her eyes and smiles. You don't have to call me Goddess, she says, My name is Alex. I can't move. Can't breathe. I didn't even notice when Ben snuck up behind me until she said something to him and he asked if he could take her photo.

We saw her later again that night, I had picked her flowers, but could not find her. So I gave the flowers to a bush. She was talking to a woman, I went up interrupted them, I told her I had picked her flowers earlier and searched for her but could not find her. Once again I am flattered, she says. We walk in to get pizza, but when we come out she is gone. SHIT! I wanted to offer to smoke her up.

Oh well. Who am I on this trip with again? Time to focus on my love. And I did. We ate pizza, and we talked about how he could never live in Boulder. The vibe has changed, and so have the people.

We walked back to the car, arms around each other. You could say we went back and made love. But that's not what we do.

WE TRANSPIRE TO MAKE EVERY MOMENT FULL OF QUESTIONS, QUESTION YOURSELF, YOUR LOVE, NEVER GET COMFORTABLE, THE JOURNEY'S JUST BEGUN.

Today is our last full day in Colorado. Tomorrow, we begin our journey northward. The past several days have been filled with adventure and memory...

On Friday, Rain and I visited an old friend and mentor of mine. (Longtime Bitscape's Lounge readers might remember him referenced specifically as "$mentor[0]" in the ancient texts. (To be restored to accessibility soon.)) We drove high into the mountains, walked through cemetaries, he treated us to chinese food, the three of us listened to one of zac's episodes, we showed him the Soma Documentary, and then we all talked for several hours into the night.

Saturday was the day I was most nervous about. That was the day we went to meet with my parents. Rain and the rest of my family hit it off surprisingly well. I'll leave it at that. (Rain has plenty of room to embarrass me when she writes her entry about that day, if she so chooses.)

Saturday night, a comedy of failed endeavors. First, Rain really wanted to go to a Raggae show that had been advertised as taking place at the Lazy Dog bar. (It now occupies the space that was once home to Rocky Mountain Records and Tapes, an ominous sign already.) But when we got there, nothing. Football games on big screen tvs, yuppies getting drunk... No raggae in sight on earshot.

Then, we saw a sign for an 80's night out at the Darkhorse on Baseline (where BLUG members would sometimes hang out for supper in the distant past). We went there. No 80's music. No dancing. Nothing. Deadness.

Rain wanted to buy us ice cream, so we stopped at another box of karmic memories: King Soopers. The very one where I had worked at the deli in Boulder, Nov 2002 - May 2003. It was spooky. From a distance, I saw two people I recognized in the deli. Still working there, both of them. How sad, I thought. Their souls were burned out by it then, how bad must they be now? I didn't want to go talk to them. They are ghosts now. I left them be, unaware of my passing presence. Rain treated me to ice cream, and quickly left to return to the Castor and Pollux spot.

Strike three: Rain and I both love Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. When we spotted it on Jaeger and Kiesa's shelf, we knew we wanted to watch it. But upon sitting down and inserting the disc, despite repeated attempts, both their player and the tiny Apple device refused to accept and play that movie, or any of the others we attempted. We decided the machines must hate us, gave up on that, and spent the remainder of the evening looking at my old relics (rescued from my parents' storage).

Sunday, we met with several members of Rain's biological family. Her brother demonstrated his ability to play some wicked good Metallica on the guitar, despite being consigned to the endlessly bleak blandness which has become a hallmark of American suburbia. (And he was quite satisfied with his new living space, thank you very much.)

For most of the rest of the day, we hung out and got high with Rain's cousin. She was super cool (and super hot at the same time). We went to the house where she and her boyfriend live. A giant reptile, when taken from its cage, literally spewed projectile shit all over the couch and floor. We laughed uproariously.

They took us to her mom's house where they fed us a spaghetti and meatball dinner, we went swimming, and Rain's aunt gave me a very nice leather jacket as a gift. I was overwhelmed at her generosity.

Later in the evening, we went to Rock Island, where Unscene was still being held on Sunday nights. I had been looking forward going there again, but the crowd was much smaller than it had ever been when I went back in summer and fall of 2004. At least the music was still good.

After the club, in the wee hours of the night, I showed Rain several of my old dumpster diving haunts, and we gathered sustenance from the waste. Steak, turkey, pepperoni, lettuce and tomato sandwiches for breakfast. Mmmmm...

Over the course of our time here, our stuff has managed to form quite a mess on the living room floor of Jaeger and Kiesa's residence. This afternoon, Captail Logan paid us an unexpected visit to drop off some items. Upon seeing the uproarious state of the place, his face made a rather interesting expression. I assured him that all would be tidied before we left tomorrow, to which he replied, "Good, but actually I don't care; I'm not the one who lives here."

Originally, there were two things I wanted to do on this day: Visit my the old house in the mountains where I grew up, and go with Rain to the weekly Monday Buddhism class at the Shambhala center. But this afternoon, after lazing around in the yard for a while, Rain pointed out that it was almost 4pm. I was shocked at the passage of time.

We decided to put off the visit to my old house until tomorrow, first thing before we head out of town, rather than rush around to fit it all in right now. We will go into Boulder to visit the Shambhala center tonight, and return to get things into a state of readiness for tomorrow's departure later, but the rest of the the day today is... well... happily unstructured.

So... As this phase of our journey draws to a close, I find myself looking forward to the mystery that awaits us in the mountains to the northeast with anticipation and excitement. Goodbye to Colorado. You were once my home, but now, you are only a hall of memories.

So today we go on the road. I had so much fun in colorado, meeting Ben parents was so much fun! His parents acted like the pope was coming over and, well I will leave it at that. We are off to camp tonight, it will be fun but cold,good thing my lover can warm me. I miss my little Ivy bear and I miss Snuba luba belly!!! Hope you all are having a good time reading this mabey one or more of you could coment? this is a interactive blog you know. Off to higher country, and kinfolk. Rain

We sit on the hill next to the house where I lived as a child. I haven't climbed these rocks since half a lifetime ago. Some things are different, but still so much is just as it was. The rock formations. The shape of the land. The old trees.

The stream where my brother and I built water systems and dams is all dried up, overgrown with plants and bushes. A tiny young tree grows out of the partially buried remains of the island log where I kept my collection of rock money. Now it is just a mysterious patch of stones on the ground being slowly subsumed into the earth.

I wish to honor and pay respect to this, the cradle of my existence, as I prepare to meet my destiny and return to new mountains far away.

Tuesday -- We didn't depart from Colorado until the middle of the afternoon. After going up Flagstaff Mountain to visit my old house, we also made a brief drive by the Mapleton house, and then, a visit to old BJA, where we spent much more time than I had planned.

BJA, the place where I went to grade school, and also was employed as a preschool teacher's aid for several years... has since been shut down. What we found there would be much better told by the photographs I took, to be posted upon returning to Lincoln.

We found ourselves out on the road at a whopping 15:00 MDT, and into Wyoming around an hour later.

As the sun set, Rain offered to treat me to dinner in Casper. We ate at a Mexican place, where the food was very tasty.

Our plan was to camp in Wyoming, but this was not to be, as every "Camping" sign we followed led to some big stupid RV park with flashing neon lights and outrageous fees. We considered the idea of simply driving to the side of some country road and setting the tent up on open ground, but one of Rain's friends had warned her against Wyoming's draconion regulations and mean cops, so we were wary of that.

Finally, near midnight, when I became too tired to trust my own driving ability, I pulled over to a rest stop, parked, and we covered ourselves with blankets in the car seats. Tobias cared for us with surprising comfort, as we both slept well, and awoke without cramps or pains.

At around 5am on Wednesday, I awoke and felt ready to drive some more. We crossed the Montana border at sunrise, and I parked in a little gas station's lot for some more sleep.

Late morning, Rain awoke me and suggested we get going, as the gas station was opening, and people associated with it were wandering next to the car.

I filled Tobias with gas, and we used up almost exactly one tank full driving continuously from the state border to the city of Missoula, where we have been staying since.

To Be Continued...

So here we are in missoula. The first night we went to a little bar called the Top Hat, the have every wend night Wasted Wensdays 6$ all you can drink. It lived up to it's name. I saw many old friends, met new friends. Got high in the bar, a rare treat and in general was smashed. And that is just the first day stay tuned...

Sitting here at the hot springs, watching people come and leave. GIVING BLOOD BACK TO THIS LAND,only seems right.THE GODDESS HAS SHED MUCH BLOOD FOR ME.I laze about soaking in the sun nude,I LOVE THIS LAND all with my love,eating fruit geting high and jumping into the river,saw a deer with Ben.THIS PLACE HOLDS MORE MAGICK FOR ME....

I LOOK UP FROM MY BOOK,My love is nude,hiking up the mountain side,sun shing down on him. STUNNING He looks like a dear on the prowl, wild animal that he is, that we all are.

THIS IS THE REASON I MOVE.

Well, we're about to head back in the direction of Nebraska. The past 6 days in Missoula have flown by, sometimes in a dazy haze, sometimes in moments of ecstatic wonder, sometimes with bouts of uncertain worry. Rain introduced me to a bunch of cool new people, we took adventures in the mountains, and explored the town.

Brief Missoula Highlights:

Wednesday -- Arrived at Anna's, where I took a long nap. Went to the house where Anna's sister Helen was house sitting, and ate soup for supper. In the evening, we smoked some seriously potent weed, went to the all-you-can-drink Wasted Wednesday at the bar, and wandered around... blur.

Thursday -- Slept a lot.

Friday -- Trip to the Food Bank, where they give free food to anyone, even out of state visitors. I might want to volunteer there later. Went to the river. Crazy Rain swam in the icy cold water while I took pictures, and Helen and Anna hung out. Forgot to turn down stove, burned beans while out. Doh. So much for chili. Cooked pasta w/ homemade tomato sauce instead. At night, I borrowed a bike and explored the town. Dumpster dived a couple of pepperoni pizzas to feed the troops. Sweet.

Saturday -- Swam at Nimrod. That place is sweet. Love the secret underwater Goddess cave. Stupid people who leave litter should be banned though.

Sunday -- Went to hot springs. Awesome place, except for the new No Camping sign that Rain said was never there before. Made alfredo sauce. At night, everything downtown was dead.

Monday -- Made Delicious Dish for breakfast. Daze, haze, sleep, Rain and I visited library (good selection of Philip K Dick books, Derrick Jensen), explored downtown. Met Amber and AJ. Ate ice cream at Big Dipper. Yum.

Tuesday -- Visited local health food store... Sweet place (though not a coop). Surprisingly, prices on some stuff I often buy are actually cheaper than Open Harvest. Yes, I could definitely live here... :)

Departure pending momentarily...

For the first time on this roadtrip, we camp. In Rain's tent, Ruby. In the middle of Montana.

We were lucky to find this hidden National Forest area off a dirt road just before dark. It seems the highway sign makers like to define "camping" as stuffing a bunch of RVs in tight rows in parking lots and/or yuppie resorts with swimming pools and big huge office buildings where everyone must "register". Horrific.

The real camping areas have no signs. Then again, maybe it's better that way; as Rain and I have had this whole area to ourselves, right next to a stream and everything!

Since leaving Missoula, I have started to realize that my mind has only begun processing the experiences of that place, and the people there. I may write more about it soon.

For now, it has stopped raining ouside, so we are going to break camp and put our stuff back in the car.

On Tuesday, we didn't end up leaving Missoula until after 15:00 in the afternoon. Having not brought Rain's tent out of the trunk even once the entire trip, we were determined to camp during the return journey. For real.

At around 18:00, having traveled only 200 miles, we began to search for a place to camp, in hopes of finding something before dark. It took a bit of searching, including a brief misadventure near bulldozers on a half-finished dirt driveway that was really rougher than Tobias was designed to handle, but eventually, luck helped us find a national forest with a parking lot. The only sign indicating its existence stood at the foot of the hiking trail in the parking lot. After a few hikers returned to their vehicles and departed, we had the entire area to ourselves.

While pitching the tent, I had the rare chance to witness yet another new facet of Rain's personality: The Drill Sargent. When she pitches her tent, she is 100% serious. Best stay out of the way, and do what she says. Or else.

We finished getting the tent up just barely before dark. In the final moments of daylight, we took a brief walk up the hiking trail, but didn't get very far before everything turned pitch black.

Lacking a flashlight (super campers that we are), we carried our bedding, blankets, and other comforts to the tent in the dark. Inside the tent, we had only the light emitted by the display on my battery operated synthesizer to see to position things. It did its job well, also making plenty of sound effects to scare away any potential bears that might have thought about approaching.

Wednesday, after breaking camp, we had a long drive ahead of us. It was a cloudy morning, so I could not determine the time of day based on the sun's position. I was surprised to find that when we got our stuff back in the car and started to head out on the road, the clock was already at 11:00. We must have slept well indeed!

Despite this, after a little over an hour on the road, I found myself growing excessively sleepy, and stopped at a rest stop for a brief nap. Rain hung out and read some of my ancient handwritten psychotic rantings while I slept. When I awoke and we got back on the road, I was shocked to see that it was already 14:30. Nearly 24 hours since our departure from Missoula, and we had barely gone 300 miles!

So I drove. And drove. And drove. We took turns choosing music, interspersed with episodes of zac's entertaining wisdom.

A different route home: We took highway 212 into South Dakota, and then rejoined I-90 in Spearfish. The sun was low when we crossed the Montana border, and by the time we finished our brief cut across the corner of Wyoming into the Dakotas, it was behind the horizon.

We thought about trying to find a place to camp in the Black Hills Forest, despite my original plan to be farther along on the journey before Wednesday evening. But... That seemed like such a hassle, especially since it would undoubtedly be pitch black before we even found a campsite. So I suggested an alternate plan: Since I was feeling energetic, drive on through the night without camping at all. Arrive in Lincoln early, in the wee hours of Thursday morning.

Rain said it sounded like a wonderful idea. If I did get unbearably sleepy, we could stop at a rest area, and Tobias would care for us again, as he did during the journey northward. So it was.

We stopped in Sturgis, and Rain treated me to dinner. It proved to be the worst Chinese buffet either of us have ever eaten. I take the blame, since I was the one who said I wanted Chinese food. On the bright side, it did create another memorable moment.

We drove on throuh the night, a Mosaic Effect marathon on the car speakers. Rain fell asleep during some of it, but the intellectual stimulation of zac's lectures on spiral dynamics in the evolution of human consciousness was just what my brain needed to stay awake and alert.

The drive took a bit longer than my original estimate, but I never felt tired enough to stop, even as the sun came up in the eastern sky. Well, maybe I would have, except when we crossed into Nebraska, I knew we only had a little bit farther to go. With the tank way too close to empty, I decided to stop for gas in a small town 30 miles outside Lincoln, rather than take the chance of sputtering out mere miles from home.

We arrived back in the Penguinista Palace at 8:30 Thursday morning. Everything was pretty much as it had been left, excepting the pile of junk mail next to my door that my neighbor had been nice enough to remove from the tiny mailbox outside.

Our journey at an end, we promptly fell asleep amidst the cozy blankets on the floor.

I miss it all the air, the way I could just go to the river. I find myself waking up screaming lets go to the river... SHIT no river in NE! I miss being able to hear my lovers voice next to me, sigh. Anna, Helen yes even K I miss. My favorite holiday is this month mabey I will find some comfort in some gouls. I MUST ALSO SAY i AM SORRY I HAVE NEVER REALY BLOGED before i write poetry a lost art.