It’s been three months since my pilgrimage across the country began. Tonight, I lodge in a utility closet of a small roadside diner aptly named, ”Pete’s Diner,” after the patron himself whom had died some time ago. I was very lucky to get the utility closet for the evening because the Arizona desert becomes unusually frosty even with the absence of frost. Though an evening trudge across the state was far more advisable than a trudge beneath the bully that is the Arizona sun, at which my only protection is a cosmetic cream with spf 40 I found in a discarded handbag on the side of the road. the bag contained nothing else of use as it had been looted long before my hungry hands held it. A night of rest in shelter, albeit next to open containers of industrial strength cleansers and large and possibly mutated cockroaches, was still a night of rest. At least its better company than snakes or lizards or scorpions. I don’t really have the resources to manage venom and poison so you’ll have to excuse my cowardice.
The contents of my backpack for the backpacking include; an electric razor, a toothbrush with bent bristles, a cornpipe a friend bought for me from Cadiz, Spain, two packs of bugler tobacco, three lighters and two packs of matches, a brilla water filter I’ve engineered to give exactly 8 ounces of filtered water per pour, a tin water canister, a charger for my mp3 player and a charger for the razor, a small first aide kid, and several books including a boy scouts handbook I purchased in a thrift shop for 25 cents. That quarter I spent had saved my life several times, or at least my sanity. I was a well dressed drifter, though the soles of my shoes are beginning to deteriorate. I’ve about fifteen bucks on top since I started though, but I won’t need to buy new shoes because there are lots of shoes by the side of the road. I don’t quite understand why that is, but its in my favor so I’ll just be glad.
I haven’t been in contact with anyone from home. Friends close enough to be family. They said I was crazy and would probably die on my journey. They weren’t exactly credible oracles, but I agreed with what they said and would still agree should I have chosen to remain home.
Helen, the waitress that listened to me all afternoon before sneaking me into the utility closet, has decided to give me a lift to her house in the morning for a good shower and to toad my clothes in the wash. It is eastward so it’ll help me get through the state a bit quicker and put me right back on schedule. She seems kind enough to embellish me with supplies as well, this complete stranger. I will visit her when my trip is done to tell her all about it because it feels as though she would gladly take my place in an instant. I wonder if she has a pair of mens 10 and a half. That would be wonderful.
The mop bucket is my X,