"Step out of the car, ma'am"

Worried about the things at home. May have to go straight back to Sta if the situation worsens. Vivian, if you read this, then please know that you mean more to me than any trip or person or feeling. You're my heart.

Gotta get outta this. Gotta get outta Texas. I need to sleep for more than 3 hours.

Funny story time. Well...sort of. Last night I slept in my car (by choice) and around 8 this morning I wake up from the first bit of real sleep in days to a loud banging on my window. Cops! Had to get out of the car, answer a long list of questions, and look like a very sleepy idiot. I do so love being treated like a rapist/arsonist/malicious individual. "Concerned citizens"? Ha, be afraid bitches. Be very afraid.

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmeal time.

I've become smelly by default. Unfair.

New Orleans has stolen my heart. It's busy and dirty and sometimes a bit smelly and I love it.

The hostel we stayed in was great too. Met entirely too many awesome people. A wonderful thing happens when you're in a strange place surrounded by people who are in the same predicament. Friendships are made, connections abound, and I found myself wondering "Where the fuck are THESE people in St.Augustine?". Another sign that it's time to move on, to a place where one can drink, go out and actually find things to do, AND have good conversation. Can't remember the last time I had those things in Sta. Anyways. That's where my head is right now.

Currently the Corolla is at maximum capacity. We picked up some hostel kids, three to be exact, and a dog and their instruments and backpacks and such. This morning (around 4-ish) we arrived in Austin. Found a Walmart and slept in the parking lot. Discovered cheap bread and 48 cent avocadoes. I didn't sleep until 7-ish, however, I was able to write a bit while rolling decent cigarettes. Not a bad morning at all.

6-7 hours of sleep in 2 days. Thankyou coffee, you have saved my life. Maybe pictures once I get the drive/motivation/find some shit to take pics of.

I got bourbon faced on shit street.

Soooooooooooooo.

New Orleans 2:

Bourbon st. Took the trolley from le hostel to drunkfaceland. Drank a hand grenade that came in a cool cup that we ended up losing later on. Was told to "be careful" many times. Dru and I walked back and forth drinking beers and checking out the half nakeds outside the strip clubs. Got pretty drunk. Met a broke dude named Couzan, bought him a beer, and told him I loved him a couple times. Drank more beer. Met two dudes (Willy and Tim) and they took us to a bar with 5 dollar pitchers, which Andrew and I monopolized. I think there were 4-ish all together....but things started getting fuzzy. Tim and Willy kept commenting on how pretty I looked, which wasn't even creepy since I was so trashed that I was convinced that I was the hottest piece of ass in town. Wasteyface! Andrew got completely shit faced, some d-bag started giving me some shit about joining the airforce ("I can't, I'm Jehovah's Witness"), and then it was time to go. Somehow I drunkenly managed to drag Dru to the trolley stop and then completely blacked out. Passed our stop but somehow got to le hostel. Dru slept and I hung out with hostel kids. Came back to just long enough to drink more, smoke a joint outside the church, and then blackout again. Navigating the hostel when brain dead is difficult, but some dude helped me even though I was a drunk bitch (I don't actually remember this, but dude told me this morning). And now I'm broke and can't do it all over again. Sad.

Needless to say, this place is fucking awesome. Lots of shit to photograph, leaving me torn between actually getting to Oregon or getting an apartment and an awesome camera here. Conundrum.

Today we walked around the French Quarter in search of food for about 2 hours. I really want a daiquiri but lack the funds. People start drinking here when they wake up. My cigarettes were 7 bucks. I hope things get better in old Sta for everyone. We're actually couch surfing in a couple days in Oklahoma city (woot). I need to make a mix for Leda and Nick and mail shit and print out pictures to use as postcards. I miss everyone.

New Orleans.

Last night we did Bourbon st., which ended (ofcourse) in Bourbon st. doing us. I was told to be careful four times by four different people. Fuck that noise. We met some drunk guys that have lived here for 54 years and found a place with cheap pitchers, which ended up being a bad idea. Eh, right now I'm too hungoverhungrytiredthirsty to do details. So....pictures and more....not right now, later.

I'm gonna get something nice.

Leda,

Today we went into a used bookstore in Hipsterland and they had Le Monde. So I picked it up and tried to make sense of it. And ofcourse I teared up. Ofcourse. And then I looked for All Story, but they didn't have it. Is there anything lamer than hiding in the science section, reading the titles of astronomy books, and crying? I wouldn't call it homesick, but I do miss having a home. Not a house. Not a bed and a TV and a shower. Not even anything I've had for the past couple years. I miss that feeling of security, happiness, whatever it is. Those moments when you can honestly say "This is enough. This, right here, is what I need." I hate that those moments come so rarely, and always with the people that mean the most but you see the least.

Ugh. Anyways. Done being funky.

We decided to splurge tonight on a cheap hotel. I've never been so excited to lie around and watch bad TV.

I've become a master at rolling cigarettes. Very good, since Obama is raising taxes on all forms of tobacco. Meaning that rolling is the only way I can afford this habit, and I don't plan on quitting. No no no. I'm still as supportive as I was at the get-go. And unless he pulls something scary Bush-like, I'll continue on that way. Now I should stop, before I rant about how ridiculous our country is.

Leda, I miss you.

run on

Holy shit my eyes are falling out of my head and I'm not even tired I'm not even tired and people are falling asleep and people are being woken up but I'm not even tired no I'm not thankyou very much but damn do I ever need a cigarette or a glass of wine or both maybe both would make my brain stop but I'm not even tired and beirut is beautiful I could cry right now but I won't because my eyes will fall out they will they will they will I'm fucking telling you that none of this makes sense so what the hell are you me us even doing maybe we just all belong there at that place that I should have stayed but I couldn't no no no not until I did this but here I am and maybe sleep would help but what is sleep if your dreams are worse than being awake I'd like to know what to do when being awake and being asleep are one and the same let's just go to that place I'm still there yes I am yes I am but fucking believe me I'm not even tired I'm awake and finally I'm awake and finally all the nothing is making sense or maybe it's finally just nothing nothing at all nothing at all a fake and a lie and it's nothing I promise I do really I do it's nothing.

24 hours

Asheville, NC:

We've been in a 24 hour coffee shop for about....four hours. My hands are shaking. My mind is racing. We have nowhere to sleep. So we'll be here for the duration.

Too many thoughts that I can't seem to organize. A feeling that I'm becoming more lost in trying to find out where I'm going.

Actually accomplished writing a story that I'm not entirely disappointed with. And a poem about a boy that I am. Being here reminds me of too much. Everything lost and the nothing gained. How can you have memories of a place you've never been? I'm missing something I never even had.

Not in a bad mood. Contemplative? Sure.

I don't miss St. Augustine. But I miss tiny aspects that always seemed so insignificant. A list wouldn't do justice, so I'll refrain from trying to put this mess in my head into words.

Please don't let me be misunderstood.

Montgomery, Alabama:

Today my five year old friend Gwendolyn hugged me, looked up at her father, and said "they're not coming back soon". And for whatever reason, in that messy hallway, I teared up like a pregnant woman to Kodak commercials.

We bought a gun from Wal-Mart. A plastic shotgun, bandages, and a can of black spray paint. Watch out bitches.

Seeing Eamon happy makes me hopeful. Everything here is the opposite of the way it used to be the last time we were all together.

That whole southern hospitality thing....they weren't kidding. Dru and I have already been referred to as "rude". It's making me feel the overwhelming urge to drive straight up North, where it's safe.

Ha. We have 3 bands in the mental works. Our Regina Spektor cover band, Apple Paltrow. Our street band which basically consists of us singing "Hey" by the Pixies, Electric Bird Whistle. And the band that Dru wants us to take seriously (apparently I can sing. Flattered is an understatement) which is tentatively Aesthetic Cigarette Harmony.

I keep meeting amazing people. And for the first time in 2 years, my hands aren't shaking. I'm sitting outside a Starschmucks, it's chilly and windy and beautiful, cigarettes are plenty, and I'm actually alive.

Please don't let me be misunderstood.

Shocker promises

We need to stop drinking.

Not.

Tallahassee is awesome. Mostly because of Amy.

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh Alabama.

Fireworks and hurricanes

56 hours.

15 stitches.

0 cigarettes.

The same questions repeated throughout the days.

Groups of people that mean nothing and need everything.

And I'm more lost then when I went in.