were the first words i heard on the second day of june. i was somewhere north of yosemite and the tarp was cold against my temple. i was warm in my sleeping bag cosy in the back of the truck...

(the above photo is of later in the day, but anyway, the truck has been acquired by esoteric means. a guy named Ron, went to the philipines for a week and afer three months of no word from Ron they decided that his house wasnt his anymore and his truck wasnt his anymore and all of his music and, i suppose, his television. there ARE phones in the philipines and he COULD have called and so for all purposes he just sort of disappeared. for reasons i dont totally understand they gave the truck to me. its The Dead Guys Truck. so i'm living out of it. i suppose that in taking the truck for a while and running around the country i'm committing a crime, but what would they do? i didnt kill him and i didnt steal his truck and when i get back, if there's payments to be made [this seems to be how most people run their lives] then i'll make the payments and get on with the officiation. i suppose the cops might pull me over for suspect to murder, but i have confidence i could beat that one.)

...and the wind was blowing through the pines when i heard these waking words of the day.

i was still in california, it was clear before i had a chance to open my eyes for the day. i looked over and some bearded guy with a pickup larger than mine was standing with his head cocked to the side and his hand on his hip. he was putting on his most authoritative and aggressive pose. but he looked kinda girlie what with his cowboy hat, moustache, and shirt tucked in.

i never remember anything i say in the morning. i think i said something about "right away" and "no problem" while thinking "god i hope i can just leave this horrid state please god let me get out of the state."

all in all, california was a brief exit for a long run.

i saw some lakes and mountains. once you get away from the crowds and advertising its pretty.