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undefined Apr 23
I have one week to make it back to Paris and meet Rayne at the airport.

Goodbye magnolia trees and Margaret the cat, I'm out the door early and into town for coffee and to figure out what direction to move in next. "Toodalure San Fargeau" I hope sometime to pass back through. After freshly ground coffee, an orange juice,  some homemade yogurt,  cigarette,  and a piece of alvacado toast, I head out of town in what I believe is soo (south). Stopping only to snap pictures of a castle and a church, seen yesterday.

The next town down, I pas a cemetery and a veterans memorial,  but no restaurants, or even a post office.  There are a lot of these little residential villages from what I've seen all over France. On my way through the village after that, I stop to check my map, and see that even if no one picks me up on the road, I should be able to make it to a place with water and perhaps food within the next 2 hours, there's a large community another couple villages away.

A younger guy pulls over to a stop in front of me and says, "You look as if you could use a ride," I climb in what looks like a work van that has been outfitted to sleep or live in for short periods of time on the road. William is a carpenter by trade who has recently broken up with a girlfriend, and is getting pretty sick of his boss. He's headed west to spend a week of vacation time with a girl there, and to decide if he ever wants to go back to his job again. He's also a pretty good guitarist and a new fan of bluegrass.  We stop at the next town and I spend my last few euros to get us coffee and hear him play. Afterwards, I decide to continue our conversation as far as he's going so, my new direction is now west. Closer to major transit anyway, and still in route to collect my friend in the city at the end of the week. (All trains go to paris)

Dropped off in the city of Rennes, (pronounced more like "wren"), it's a collage town similar to where I'm from only with a river running through it, a slightly better transit system,  and a few more boulangeries than Denton. Rennes is a city rich with midevil history, some of the first tournaments began with knights there. But 11th century walls renovated by 13th century lords, restored again by architects, masons, and builders of the 15th century,  is fast becoming victim of 21st century "could give a **** less" newbloods. I decide to stay for the night so, I look for a place to play. The first person I meet is named Francis, he is headed to a cafe/bar for "english speaking night" there. I go with him, but he skips hanging out with the group inside and instead just chats with me for a bit. He has been to India where I am going and he's an English teacher so, we have good conversation,  and I learn a little bit of "le france" too.

As the night goes on, drunk kids who've just finished exams flood the streets, and though there are many great interactions, compliments on my singing, and everyone is having a good time, I only make pennies. And after phoning to check in with Mom, and checking to see how Rayne is doing, a drunk local woman shows me to a spot where I can crash for the night.

The next morning, after making only .70cent dealing with drunk students last night, and fussing with homebums this morning,  I decide to take off and see Brittany's other city, Saint Malo, on the coast. I make camp next to the motorway and slept in a bit late, but found a ride about half way there, deciding to stop en route to see a little town where every single building was sourced from the granite quarry there. I walked about a kilometer into th town when I found a pub and it began to rain. The frequent rain in Brittany makes the countryside lush and green, like much of the south I've seen so far, accept here, there are more hills and coastline landscape much more similar to Oregon or Washington,  in the states.

Tim has been a local here for 18 years, moving here from England after meeting his wife, she's the lady behind the bar who laughed at my sign, (on my pack it says, "apprends-moi le français, s'il te plait"). He says that when he met his wife, he was forty (something) and she was 18. They're both good company,  and after a couple songs and a bier, I am invited to supper with them. (Duck).  

Tim gives me a lift the rest of the way to Saint Malo. Through the gates of "cite' corsair" to the wall facing the Atlantic... Atop it, I am 5 thousand miles from anyone or anything I have ever really known, with 6 'roes to my name, the closest I will be to the US for the rest of this adventure, and I'm looking out over one of the most beautiful sights I've ever seen in my life.

Two cafes' later I met Arthur, he tends bar but it's his night off, he wants to write, play music, and go watch the sun go to sleep from the beach. "Ye' are mot!" That's how you "cheers" in San Malo. I have a few drinks, Arthur's treat, and we're watching "coucher de Soleir."

The next morning it's time for me to leave "pirate city," and continue finding my way to meet up with Rayne. Cafe, cquesant, found a couple euroes somewhere, mail a postcard off, and I'm walking country roads again in no time.

I leave the ocean coast a walk for several days through yellow fields that feel to me like I'm strolling through an oil painting, forests where I camp by streams of running water and wake up to snow on the ground, passing 600 year old places lost in time, walls and stone structures reclaimed by nature and covered with moss and ivy, everything dating hundreds of years older than anything that still stands in my country. As I reach a road at the edge of the next town, a woman pulls over and asks if there is anything she can do for me. I am tired from sleeping on the ground and days of walking, I'm out of food, water, money, and haven't passed anywhere to play music since leaving Saint Malo. I tell her that I would take a lift into town for water, if she is offering.  

She takes me to a cafe for coffee, trys to phone a place to see if I can play music there, buys me a sandwich, some bread for later, pastries at the boulangerie, then drives me to the otherside of town and leaves me with 20 euros in my pocket. Time spent with her was brief, so brief that I never got her name, but she spoke of how fortunate she has been in her life to live long enough to have things and be able to to help. Speaking momentarily on budist and stoek philosophies saying, "Now, is the gift we are given to do what we can with. The goal to being pressent now, is to Not Worry. And to use the 'now,' you ask, what can I do?.. If nothing, then No Worry. If something,  then you do it so, No Worry."

I walked for a little ways and fot a short ride that took the confusion away from my directional questioning for the remainder or this trip. . . Walking along "Rue de Paris."

Many more miles to go still, and it's getting cold out again, but my needs have been met, I have a positive mental attitude,  and all I have to do now is walk .






Stop Auto... (preview)

I do wish that I knew a bit more of the language still, I am learning, but I still feel like somewhat of a disappointment when hitching a ride and found not to be as good conversational company as most hoped. Still, hitchhiking is pretty easy in France, and after factoring my pace walking thus far with the amount of time I have before Rayne lands in the city, I decide not to risk coming up short of meeting her there, and to just hitch the motorway for the last 300km or so. I stood at a roundabout for a few minutes with my thumb out and got a ride most of the way to where I needed to be, the toll booth entry for the motorway headed nord.

Honks and waves, and smiles (probably at my hat and guitar) accompany my short walk there. It only takes a few minutes and I get a ride to the outskirts of Le Mans where I have to change highways. I hopped out of a car, and straight into an argument with law enforcement about being on the wrong side of the toll booth. I go find cardboard and make up a sign that reads "Paris," and in route back to the proper road, a man yells at me and tells me that he will get off work at 7pm and can give me a ride to Paris then. So, I sit down at the McDonald's and read for the rest of the day.

Stephen turns out to be a pretty stand up guy too, and although he's not supposed to have anyone else in his "boss' car" that is just for travel to and from his work, he lives 20 minutes from Paris and I ride with him 2 hours all the way, and he drops me off downtown.
This is a very rough draft for a kind of "teaser" that I'm going to work up for the book I am writing . I will finish it after the summer is over , but here is a very small part of a story in it.

Please excuse terrors, it hasn't been read or checked by anyone yet (aside from you now 😉)
Oh and I wrote it out on my phone and grabbed wifi here for a sec just so someone can give it a read
Thanks
undefined Feb 27
For those long days far away
Just wondering how you are
For the lonely nights lying awake thinking of you and counting stars.

...for the times when it hurts
to have to move on.
AND for the sweet sweet memories
of you in my arms.


For all the good times
and bad breaks
When I made you smile and
all the cute dates.

All the love i have inside
That's now gonna waste

...and for every heart
    That has to break.
undefined Feb 1
A memory remains
Breeding pains
Feeling cheap
Sliding down drains
               and abandoned in the street
It's scars my heart
And makes it weak
Now trying so hard  
  
To cautiously
                         proceed.
Just thoughts here..... That's all right now.
undefined Jan 30
I have to go away
I hope you'll understand
Yes, we could still be friends
But my heart is on the mend

So I had to walk away
Because I just can't pretend
That I'll ever be the man
Not in love with you again
undefined Jan 30
Time will **** me,
but I ain't killing time
I've worked hard for every penny
that I ever got
I spend all my money and
go broke every time
cause time will **** me,
but I ain't killing time

I spend all my money
on the things that I like
travel the world
barely getting by
but the hard times balance
when I look in the eyes
of friends and lovers
that fill my life
one day we'll all get what's coming
I just stay ready for mine
cause time will **** me but,
I ain't killing time

Time will **** me
I've worked all my life
my muscles are sore
one day I'll lay down and die
but I'll die happy
knowing I got mine
cause time will **** me
but I ain't ever killing time
undefined Jan 26
I miss her
like ink misses the page
when i can't seem to think
of the right words to say .

I love her like the heavens,
and to the moon I pray,
the only wish I ever have,
that every shooting star could stay .

If there is a god of love,
how could one create
this old heart of mine
just to feel it break

...
.. going to keep working on this I think. I like one or two lines in there.
undefined Jan 26
i miss my camera that was stolen
my guitar that i sold
the paper running out of my last note

ink is slowly drying
i feel i'm slowly dying,
i'm panicked, and i never really know

Why

I cry

Inside

i got arrested last night
for the first time in a while
the girl that makes me sad
used to make me smile

And she still could
If she would
Try



smoking cigarettes like they're going
the way they already went
i've got too many thoughts
on my mind to vent

feels like I'm falling
losing all control
breaking down and broken
feeling so alone


i've never been this scared
never wanted to be free so badly
that it tears a gaping hole through me

i feel lost and
i'm struggling to breathe
searching frantically for an answer
something to help me see

I've forgotten all the tools
and things that kept me sober & happy
all i'm wanting now
is for everything to be over & that
                                                    scares me

I feel so much older,  now
and I bruise so easily
my heart may never mend
like embers slowly dying

a fire's going out
and my hands are trembling
my mouth is dry
and it hurts that
nothing left excites me
.  Still in the works.
But I'll keep writing it out of me.
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