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snab snib tells us about
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2020-03-15 at 1:45 AM UTC5 19 2014
So I met this dog while walking down some rail road tracks and it was nice having a friend for a while but when it was clear that it was planning on following me all the way to cali i had to backtrack a good ways in order to find the people who owned it. it'd get killed walking along the highway with me. I asked a bunch of random people and eventually found someone who knew the owner. walked over this kick ass bridge into ohio. -
2020-03-15 at 1:45 AM UTC5 26 2014
So I was in Jackson, Ohio, and I fucking hate ticks. Every single tick I catch, I kill with fire, because its a tick and it deserves it. They're truly disgusting beasts that ought to be thoroughly exterminated, extincted, extirpated, but not extuinguished from the torment of their fiery anguish. I hope it hurts. Jackson was OK. Cincinnati is better by far. I'm actually in one of the surrounding townships that merge to it.
I spent two nights at the same spot in jackson cause my right foot was hurting and I wanted to rest it. I bought a kickass safari hat, 48 feet of light cord, and a 8x10 tarp at the tractor supply store. talked to my old boss on the phone. They fired the dude I trained to replace me. I guess he talked big about how he could hack my job at the bakery. He couldn't. I feel bad for my old boss who must now work harder, and he does not deserve to have to.
I had figured I had 125 miles to cincinnati when I started walking Sunday morning. Its memorials day tomorrow ain't it? Well, as I was walking I saw a dude backing up on the other side of the highway. He shouted at me, asking if I wanted a ride. Sure I did. His name was ralph and he was just aquitted of murder, after spending a year in jail. He's headed to washington to start a new life. He took me all the way to cincinnatti. I talked his head off with my usual gamut of philosophy, mysticism, psychology, etcetera. He was a pretty cool guy.
I head to the walmart, to get some sterno, a sling pack for my left side, aluminum loafpans, and mac n cheese boxes. (Later I discover, much to chagrin and dismay, the damned loaf pans were punctured) I go outside to organize my stuff again. As I was doing so, an employee on smoke break asked if I was a survivalist, which was flattering. I explain and talk to them while I do my thing for a while. I head on out to find the YMCA,when a dude in a couger pulls up alongside me.
He asks when the last time I had a hot shower was. (Don't remember precisely), and said his place was two minutes away and invited me over for dinner and a couch and a shower.
His apartment is full of aquariums with snakes and other reptiles. He does reptile rescues, for the local olice and rangers, and is opening an exotic reptile shop soon, downtown. We eat pizza and talk. He offered me a bad-ass and far-superior military ruck pack, and I gave him my jansport and ( new walmart fishing pouch) and twenty bucks in exchange for it. Which is a lot less then its worth. It has a lot more storage space, better pockets, more loops, lashpoints, clips, belts, and whatnot. Better water resistance, comfort, durability. Looks cool.
Been writing music. Goin to bed soon. Pics inbound. -
2020-03-15 at 1:45 AM UTC6 2 2014
so i was walking along and a dude with a bike and a bob cart says from across the road, hey! is that a fellow world travelor? and we start talking and traveling. i guess i got a party now. he's interested in filming the thing and wants to make a TV show for national geographic or write a book or something, which is cool.
there's another guy in the philosophy room who is considering selling his possessions and hitting the road with us. he's sick of the matrix, wants to take the red pill, lost faith in the system, no getting THAT back once its gone.
me and bill found a cool dude named tony, who let us camp out on his lawn, we chatted about politics and philosophy while drinking coffee under the tarp lean to in the rain.
water is the most valuable resource. tomorrow we're headed to a wildlife preserve to go swimming and stuff. the sun and heat is getting up in a tizzy. life is good etc. -
2020-03-15 at 1:45 AM UTC6 3 2014
Bill's a mess. gave him the slip. His whimsical jalopy fills me with fury. he picks random crap up off the side of the road and calls it 'trail magic', things such as: empty snus can, michigan speedway flag, bent hook and washer, a hose adaptor. he thinks people are leaving him messages. he says his pile of junk is 'computerized' because he has some solar chargers bungie corded to the broken chair he picked.up. i told him if i needed it, i would have had it already, so why would i pick junk off the side of the road? trail magic. heard that word about 100 times. i hate that word.
he would tell people that he's not a criminal, and show them his ID, and he'd tell them he was with adventure cycling club, which he wasn't, and tell people that he always checks into police stations when he comes into town at night and stays there and they can go look him up cause he's on the database... in a good way! i tried explaining to him that the emotional parts of the brain do not interpret negators and disqualifiers, so, emotionally, telling a person not a criminal, causes them to feel you are in fact a criminal. i realized he was not capable of normal communication. he has no money. i bought him dinner, because i'm not the kind of guy to let someone go hungry while i sit and eat in front of them, no matter how stupid you are. he constantly said things that sounded like he was trying tomake people think he wasn't in need of assistance, and yet get them to give him assistance. his value acquisition system made me feel slimy. i got angrier and angrier as i watched him stuff piles of junk into his whimsical jalopy, disorganized, it made me sick as i saw the length of time it took to pack up, shuffling around like a lobotomized baboon. it made me realize just how god damned slick and efficient i am. i have an elegant solution for every problem that confronts me, and all the daily routines i must perform, i perform with robotic speed and precision. so when he cycled ahead to see what was up there, i bolted down a side rode, and spent the day in versaille state park. -
2020-03-15 at 1:45 AM UTC6 6 2014
Woke up and got going. Walked till about 4 and napped in some woods till five. Big logs elevated off the ground are great for napping on. Stopped in a route 50 bar to get something to eat, and had the best nachos of my life. They were smothered in pulled pork, chopped lettuce, tomatoes and jalapenos, and a white queso with lots of chilis and spices in it. Incredible. A dude came in and we talked for a while, he's headed to cali too, but in a van with his kids and girl and someone else and dogs and was looking for work since it broke down in vernon. The owner gave him what looked like seven pounds of smoked turkey and I bought him a beer. I started walking and a fella in a truck full of scrap offered me a lift into vernon, and we chatted while he drove me to the west side of the town. I walked out of town and found a place to sleep. Its not going to be getting very hot this week, which I appreciate. -
2020-03-15 at 1:45 AM UTC6 11 2014
I'm going to be meeting with the grandparents i haven't spoken to in well over a decade, today.
So, i took the wrong damned bus. i clicked Greenville IN rather then Greenville IL. so i wound up in kentucky, louisville. slept on a wooded ridge in the park, then caught a greyhound headed to st louis the next day. got off the bus at 6pm and caught a train out to fairview heights, south of troy, where my grandparents have a hotel room. i am typing this in the collinsville library.
i might go back to dallas with them to spend a week or so in the ranch house, repair my laptop, and then purchase a bicycle, to head back up to st louis and resume my route, on wheels. -
2020-03-15 at 1:46 AM UTC7 8 2014
hitting the road from wichita
i have spent several weeks staying with my texas relatives. it was really good to see them again and reconnect, lots of great memories. and now i'm back to the march. man, i really don't have much to say and i hate repeating myself under the best of circumstances when it is necessary much less in a context where its like damn, i paid 180 for three years of hosting this domain, and like damn, its got my name on it, i guess i have to type stuff at it. two birds are fighting over my head as i type this on my laptop in some shallow second growth woods west of wichita. i have a bag of assorted apples and oranges, a loaf of olive wheat bread, and a pouch of jerky. i sewed a new water carriage system using 3 nylon belts i purchased at the dicks in great northern mall, because, nylon belts are always useful. 3 squareish canteen bottles, 1 liter each. i can now push my way through yet more harmful layers of spiky foliage, because i don't have to worry about puncturing a jugbag. i ditched jeans. strictly mesh shorts from here on out. considering the last two revelations, the third is that my calves hate me. this secondary wood line ajutting a field and a airport is very shallow, but its lousy with fireflies. they're just friggin everywhere. and see now, writing some chunk of words out is about having no standards. its like your brain has to be your hands whore. i can hear bells. and either a dog or a rooster. i'm typing it on my laptop cause my new phone, the LG optimus with straight talks 45-dollar-a month-3gb-fast-rest-slow-unlimited-data-and-it-probably-makes-calls-and texts-or-something-too-plan, does not have a keyboard. and my hands don't have a whores chance in hell at not getting bored with the contemptible on screen keyboard. you know, i've had some great fun writing in a mode where it doesn't matter what you write, the whole goal is to keep your words-per-minute up as high as possible, and certainly don't stop so like what happens is as you type you become less and less choosy about what strands of linguistic content you're willing to type out and that in turn alters the course of the material as one thing leads to another and you perform the associative process in the service of the great time honored task of making time/killing time. mass produced content. content is a better word them time. the Editor looks at me over my desk. content he says, throwing his hands in the air. wtf is content? he says, slamming his fist on my desk. he takes a sip of his coffee and aims a leering finger at my face. my nose cowers. he says you better drop this internet vogue hippe nonsense crap about content or carbohydrates or darfur or whatever it is, cause i need words out of you. words are what out of you i need. do you think those pigs whose troughs you slop have any appreciation for the finer nuances of artistic elegance, you mitzing little contradiction? sir, i say - no - but - i'm not a mitzing little contradiction. i resent that. oh, do you he says. well tell you what. he says. and then he says it again, for dramatic effect. well, i'll tell you what. he sips his coffee and spits it into my garbage can. why does he always do that, i think. this time his coffee cup leers at me. the cup says, listen, punk, we don't care what you think of the customers. the fact is they're always right. and you know what they want? they want words. and you know why it's right that they should want words? because it's the customers doing the wanting. the cup takes a sip of coffee and spits it into the trash. why does it keep doing that, i think. the cup's cup of coffee now leers at me. my nose's nose cowers in fear. Cyrano De Bergerac always did say that you could measure a mans character by his nose, which i am willing to repeat, but not willing to critically analyze. the cup's cup of coffee, which has a tinnier and orneryer voice then the cup did, and believe me, the cups voice was tinny and ornery, spoke. the cup's cup spoke. "people don't like reading intricately subjuncted nesting participles, you crackpot. they don't want a russian doll, they want WORDS like a 500 pound person in a wheel chair wants to eat twinkies and gamble." i look down. a single tear rolls off my face as i realize the truth the Editor's cup's cup was speaking. i wave my magic wand, (which is about two and a half feet long, four inches thick, and made of elementally pure lead, being otherwise a unremarkable cylinder. no small effort to wave, mind you) and i vanished the cup's cup. "hey, asshole, i was drinking that!" sez the cup. so i wave the magic wand again, now i'm panting with exertion. "hey, asshole, i was drinking that!" my cupless Editor sez. i shrug. My Editor glowers. he speaks: Listen you snot nosed little brat, if agent orange hadn't made me dyslexic, i'd do the writing, but since i can't, i make you do it. that's our arrangement. (i gulp) and you know why you do it? (i shake my head) BECAUSE IF YOU DON'T... I WILL PUNCH YOUR FACE... IN THE FACE. WITH MY FIST'S FIST. lfesvjovfsejfesvnk fsevnkfsevnklfesvln sefvnklesfvnk sefvnksefnklfsevnk vsefnk esfvnklfsevnk fsevnk sefvnk fsevnkfsevnkl -
2020-03-15 at 1:46 AM UTC7 10 2014
Preferring neither peace nor hatred I undertake the adventure of ecastic self immolation.
I saw an armadillo today.
what a perfect spot it is that I have found to rest and write and reflect.
Damn these categories and what-not! such frivolity. I have no time for these. note to self; destroy at first conveniance.
The Void stops working if you stuff shit into it.
You will suffer tremendous pain, until you learn to not fear the organism.
The nightingale current of your apostate beliefs running wild and anon back towards themselves; this is the geriatric apocalypse of your perverted desires. your thwarted generosities, that of the overabundant ecstasy, have been shut down by city hall, damned as all laws are to repeal only the cause, not the effect, and to amplify this through the outsourcing toward abstraction of our most sincerely evil tendencies. insincere disbelief is the foundation of the hell that is democracy - damn the law. the furtive rustling of your unfulfilled desires quake underneath the sickly facade of morality begetting morality - ending in a cannabilistic chasm, or worse yet, a ward of nurses tending nurses... you fear your own metabolism, and the swerving recesses of your mind that you have never had love enough to know. making yourself the measure of impossibility, you have constricted violence to a chore, sexuality to a fraudulent ceremony, and all the spasmodic madness that is the signature of creative frenzy - this is a shame.
I was wise enough to re-orient myself towards dis-approval, as a reward for correct action. but who was it that said, between two evils, choose the one you haven't tried?
who is it that constantly speaks backwards, of their beliefs, their will, and their desire, tearing them to pieces, immobilizing them upon a slick descent to the troughs of pigs?
who is it that, being sensible, feeds these lines of waiting humans into the smasher, to become ground beef?
who is it, that being intrepid, instead drinks behind the factory, of the frothing blood ejected from its mechanism, and chooses instead to be intoxicated and murdered?
who is it, that being bored, subsumes his desire into desire for desire and believes only in the god of various belief? acknowledging there is no escape, his resume towards eternity becomes an arbitrary scribble of pleasure willed for no reason, justified by a lack of justice, turning blindly back upon itself to suspend the debt that bore no profit. He knows whither not he goes.
People ought resolve to eat as little as is possible, and to understand nutrition as a contemptible past time.
Don't desire that anyone do violence on your behalf.
I suspect that fruits and vegetables sense an orgasmic pleasure by being consumed.
I see more wisdom in the skeletal eyes of a meth head, then in the befatted loins of a temperate preacher, whose words are righteousness and whose belief, is the he desires to will to not transgress law, in the pursuit of sanctity. a prostitute is safer company; the meth head, more entertaining.
But still i would tell these better friends, to be original in your transgression, and wanton in your sin; where is the faith, in hope? seek only intensified self-love, be you ever a virgin unto the immaculate emptiness that is divestiture into sense-perception - if you wish to know yourself, touch something, smell something, see something, and have the dignity to say nothing. your thoughts are the friction of doubt, your plots are the temerity of procrastination. furtive self abuse.
enough. I walk tonight. i want to see what sunsets look like in kansas. -
2020-03-15 at 1:46 AM UTC7 12 2014
Kansas is the roughest state to walk through, that i have so far encountered. primarily because there's barbed wire fences along every god damned road. ninety percent at least. i'm pretty sure most of them are put up by the state. i saw state crews throwing them up today. they are they same type almost everywhere, and they are of a higher quality then i have seen most people anywhere in the country use. in fact, i haven't seen a great deal of barbed wired fencing anywhere else.
I've gotta ask, wtf are they preventing or protecting? the trees? i could actually see that, becuase there are so very few in kansas. people would steal the shade. the only thing on the other side of the fences is empty land for miles. wtf are these fences for?
its not a problem though. there's always some place for me to sleep or rest. just less to choose from. i like to say, you can a see a problem from a mile, and a solution from a yard.
the towns are spaced fairly widely apart, although it could be worse, for sure. i have 2x one liter water bottles and a 48oz nalgene in my backpack, along with the 3x one liter canteens in my sling. more then enough for three days, if i'm strict.
walking into cunningham, a guy pulled over and handed me a cold bottle of water and a bottle of powerade, said are you crazy? no sir, he's my brother.
i went into cunningham to see if there was somewhere that i could get water. there is no restaurants there, the (diesel only) gas station closes at two, and there are no other stores there. i asked a lady if there were any places to buy things at in this town and she offered to fill my water bottles for me, and then she also gave me three plums, which i greatly appreciated.
i walked west on out of town and saw some rail road tracks crossin the street at angle and headed out on my right. to my left is 54. the tracks had a smaggling of tree's along either side. i walked on down the tracks and though at first i was concerned that there might be no cover, or no spot that wasn't lousy with thick weeds and shrub and spikes, my doubts were put to rest, when i walked up to the largest couple tree's together and saw a clear patch of soil in a small dip ridge, nice and shady, no mosquitos (although a few biting flies) with a cool breeze, totally isolated. wonderful spot.
my earlier estimates about speed were wildly hopeful and cockneyed. 50 miles per day is pretty crazy, with a load, in the summer blast of kansas plains. 25 miles a day is reasonable. 50mph would entail 12.5 hours walking at 4mph, which, under these conditions, would incapacitate the vast majority of people for a couple days.
i saw a roadkilladillo today. a small herd of cows all followed me to the end of their pasture when i started braying at them. i seem to be an object of interest to cows.
my diet has consisted entirely of fruit, and a small amount of grain, since i started walking again, and i feel great. i ate a olive-wheat one pound loaf over the course of 4 days or so, and i got ten 6" tortillas yesterday. today i ate three bananas, two nectarines, half the tortillas, and three plums. i've been really enjoying plums and oranges. my backpack has ten green apples in it. i'm going to walk all but the way to pratt tomorrow, and go in through it on sunday. i would like some vegetables, but how? i would like also to eat some grapes. maybe i will. for greens, my best idea was to just get frozen peas/broccoli and let them thaw in ziplock before eating them. bagged salad with dressing, possibly, but not sure if i want to eat a whole bag at once, and probably don't want to let it sit, but i could eat some now and some in a few hours, but carrying dressing wouldn't be proper. tortillas with chopped onion and tomato are now an idea.
holy shit, as i was typing this, an armadillo meandered into my camp, trundled around. i shouted, HEY. hey ARMADILLO. and then, such to my wonderment, it ran my direction then jumped over my backpack and hat full of apples! and dissapeared. armadillos bear investigation. i think they're trying to jack my apples.
i also need mosquito net and unscented anti-perspirant. kansas has more bugs then any place i've seen so far. -
2020-03-15 at 1:46 AM UTC7 15 2014
So, i was walkin on into pratt, as i would, with the intent to get some vegetables and tortillas and mosquito net and pens and deodorant. when a fella waves at me, heeeey, heeeey, fella, he says, wanna earn some money.
i'm like, yeah, sure. ten minutes later i'm scraping paint off of windows. the guys name is ray, he's the boss, and the other dude is jerry, he can do damn near anything apparently. they paint stuff. specifically tin/aluminum. i spent a couple hours windows clean, and earned 25 bucks. while i was scraping, jerry sprayed the roof and walls, and boss ray went to look for work. he found three jobs. we got done round five and drove to witchita, where jerry is staying at a motel for 25 bucks a day. i got a room. its a real mom and pop place, the owner came over to my room about twenty minutes after i got in there, and gave me a huuuuuge bowl of macaroni in pasta sauce with lots and lots of ground beef. tomorrow i'll earn fifty bucks for a days work.
i'll probably work at least a week, and possibly, go up to minnesota and work for a couple more months. we discussed pay, and if i stick around, i'll be making probably sixty bucks a day at the minumum, plus meals and a motel room. i'm excited to be learning a new trade.
i'm learning more then how to paint. i'm learning how a large sector of the economy makes a living; the dude just goes farm to farm, business to business, looking for work, and from the sounds of it, and the new truck he bought yesterday, he's booked pretty much solid. jerry talked about all the different jobs people can get just going around and asking at farms and crews doing whatever. incidentally, jerry walked and hitchhiked across the USA and canada when he was 25, for 5 years.
i was planning to work on a farm when i got to california to get enough to buy a little street legal dirtbike and head up to the bakken shale to get a high paying job in the oil/gas industry. whether this is a short term or long term gig, it'll be a decent lump of cash in my pocket either way. -
2020-03-15 at 1:46 AM UTCthose are all my journal entries.
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2020-03-15 at 1:54 AM UTCthatl teach ya to keep ur mouth shut
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2020-03-15 at 1:56 AM UTCDid the cops always fuck with you the whole time? Like the posts, keep adding
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2020-03-15 at 1:57 AM UTCno, the cops saw me like 3 times. one time, the cop was like, can you put those knives on the ground and give me your ID. and then he was like, you're good, take care, good luck. the other time, the cop just asked if i was cool, and i was like, yeah. he wished me luck. the other time, the cop gave me another fucking knife and a lift off the highway.
the cop GAVE me a knife. -
2020-03-15 at 1:58 AM UTCi put a lot of effort into staying clean and orderly looking, i always just looked like a hiker college kid doing some mountain climbing. nobody thought i was a homeless person or anything like that.
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2020-03-15 at 4:21 AM UTCmight want to make sure you didn't post your name in there
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2020-03-15 at 4:33 AM UTCI speeded readed all of that and in case anyone is wondering , much like my entire postography, it's not worth reading a sentence of it.
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2020-03-15 at 6:28 AM UTCI thought there were some good parts for sure. Is that all the entries you have because i read them all already
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2020-03-15 at 4:02 PM UTCyeah those were all my official entries, but you can ask me a question and jog my memory. like i don't think i made an entry about the guy with a bunch of snakes in cincinati. or the town that wasn't on any map with no electricity i went to an 'old time' festival at in west virgina where there were people dressing in clothes FROM the 1800s with black powder guns with this guy telling me how he ACTUALLY lynched a nigger and killed a guy from some family that his family had been feuding with for 150 years.
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2020-03-15 at 4:19 PM UTCdid u masturbate in the bushesThe following users say it would be alright if the author of this post didn't die in a fire!
