i had fun, despite the quickness of it. i guess that's the good thing. wish i coulda stayed longer, but not much i could do about that. sorry i just ducked out, wanted a decent goodbye at least, but oh well, i figured i should hit the road before it got too late. thanks to all i saw, sorry to those i missed, another time maybe. ummm...fog sucks to drive in but it creates an awesome trip anyway.
loveandpeace, adam

but war isn't over is it, john. What to say, what to say...just bored out of my mind in calvert county, nothing to do but look for jobs, pack boxes, and watch movies. Mostly watching movies, no surprise there. Completely hooked on Lost now, thank you very much insane plot twists and dramatic writing. Anybody know where a guy can get some green in calvert county? I sure as hell don't! A real pain in the ass, I say, a real pain in the ass. I suppose not knowing any of the younger groups in the area or having any connections therein hurts the cause.
I hope for: a shitload of money to just fall into my lap, a blindingly sexy babe, a great job, more money, but most of all some sort of idea for the direction of my future. Too bad I can't watch movies for a living. That would be too sweet. Well, enough of this, most of it is impossible to comment on anyway, so i can't really expect too much by way of response. Wish I were still in Colorado.

i crossed the span of the oregon city bridge! good for me! i walked over the top of it like my grandma did when she was young and spry (and living). not a particularly incredible achievement as it is about the width of a decent sidewalk, but i did walk over it. yay! granted, also, that i am drunk on stolen tequila and beer, i am still proud of myself and my achievement as nobody else in my immediate family has done this. now i'm watching stupid christian cartoons and laughing at the stupidity therein. go christianity! i
m totally mispelling that but who gives a shit? yay drunkneess!

oh by the way, i'm going to make my triumphant return to maryland sometime soon! i'm going to get a job and live with my parents for a while before (next year) returning to da BURY!!! (or so i plan so far...)

just keepin it reeee-aalll from oregon

love adam

so glad i am here! the road is cool and whatever but it doesn't beat a comfortable bed and family. only problem: sobriety. fuckin transportation safety administration. i left my hostel in san francisco at what i thought was a decent time in the morning, only to realize that public transportation is slower than i thought. so i ended up checking into a 12:40 flight at 12:20. i made the flight, barely, but one of my bags didn't. the bag that didn't make was searched, because the fuckers had it overnight, and i had at least 3/8ths of really good green in there. so when i get my bag from the airport the next day, it had a little card in it that said they confiscated lighters (about 5, actually, because i kept finding them in S.F.) matches and the grass. and they broke the damn zipper on my bag! fuckers. i know they smoked it, and i really hoped they did because the thought that someone just threw that shit out depresses me.
well that feels good to get off my chest. still pissed about it though.

so san francisco. nice city. good public transportation, not always convenient but you get where you need to go. nice parks. sunny days are good, not so great on the rainy. cloudy is ok.
but that is not interesting stories. not at all. i met an individual, scruffy guy in a dirty hat, carrying a black bag and a grass mat, asking if i had a pipe. i said yes, and we proceeded to sit and smoke a bit, and he begins telling me about himself. apparently i was sitting next to a chinese assassin. this man did not look chinese. he then continued to mention that he had been conscious before birth, and needed to "find his way". also, his mother and he were both raped directly after the birth. "wow, that's fucked up," i say. "yes it is." "so you're a chinese assassin?" "yeah, a japanese assassin, a president's assassin, actually." at this point i get up and take my leave, saying a farewell.
i also met a guy who was an older hippie who had cut his hair. he was alright, he seemed to know a lot. he was in this book he kept talking about that his friend wrote called Tiger in a Trance. he is actually on the cover of it in a photograph from the sixties. i think his name was steve.

i was sitting in the park one night, lafayette park. on a bench i was watching the city, looking around, with pipe in hand. a person walked up, stopped, and asked if he could join me. i invited him to sit, and we shared the pipe. he told me of various places he had been, especially hostels he had stayed over the years. amsterdam, vancouver, all over the US and europe. Hawaii. Jamaica. Places i've always wanted to go and places i've always wanted to sample weed.
i am now planning to go to oregon, and stay there with my aunt and uncle for a while. from there i am going to plan a job and a residence in either washington or maybe canada. the trick, obviously, to canada, is figuring whether i can get a job and residence legally, and if so, how.

love, all.
adam

I am in Boulder now. started in fort collins, CO, and went from there into Rocky MTN national park, where i stayed for a bit and then pretty much hitched out to longmont, another city area in colorado north of boulder.
a very interesting person i met on the road between longmont and boulder was peter christensen, who picked me up not long from boulder. he said he was on his way to his cabin and asked if i wouldn´t mind helping him carry some supplies to it. i said sure, of course imagining "oh no what have i agreed to..." so we drive a ways into the mountains, all the while with a running commentary on the local native american history, as peter is an apparent expert on the subject. we finally park on a very secluded road, where i am told the cabin is only a 3/4 mile hike farther.
with a bag of sod on my shoulder i follow the enthusiastic middle-aged man onward. the trail, i am told, was once the primary stagecoach trail in the area and that this cabin we are headed to was once a pitstop for fixing coaches going out of the mountain from a mine that adjaces the cabin (if adjaces is not a word it should be). we finally make it to the cabin, and i have to say it is incredible in the spotless nature of it. the ground ahead of it is paved with large, flat slabs of some stone that also surrounds the cabin in a patio and continues around it to include a firepit and area around the cabin that leads back to the old mine. the exterior has been kept in such a way that were you to see it you would imagine the painstaking care to design that an amusement park might put into the facade it surrounds an era-specific ride with. the building is made with logs and mortar, of noticeable age though without the wear expected. a sloped roof shingled with metal and a covered entryway stacked high with wood lead us into the cabin. inside, every possible area is covered in collections of every kind, and my immediate thought was to piles of refuse, but a very careful order makes the place not cluttered but decorated. implements of native american religion are everywhere, as is a nod towards buddhism and various other similar religious epithets (crystals, stones, and the like are everywhere). one window on the south side of the cabin allows for light most of the day, and though it was sunny, at the cabin it snows gustily.
we sit in the cabin for a bit and chat about it, as i am interested in the origin of such a unique place. peter then goes on to tell me that he discovered the cabin years ago, and was interested in acquiring it. he also mentioned that when he was in the southwestern US doing et cetera with native american groups there, he recieved a psychic reading from some mystic that told him he had some destiny to doing something with this cabin. apparently, the trail is originally swedish by decent (or rather was made by swedes at one point) and the cabin is also part of this history; he referred to the entirety of it as the Old Swede. Having learned of his predestination towards the Old Swede, he tracked down the original owners somewhere in montana and bought the whole shebang.
now that i know the history, we depart and head up the trail. as we are walking, i notice quickly that he stops and will replace one stone on the trail that has fallen out of place, commenting on the individual stones and carefully placing them back where they should go. i will note here that this is a long trail, and the placement of rocks on it is clearly very deliberate. curious about the whole thing, and especially the care taken around the cabin, i asked how much of the upkeep peter does himself. he ponders for a split second and replies "i´m the Old Swede."

after we get back to his truck, i ask him what he is doing in the next week or so and ask if he would like to hang out, as this is one of the more fascinating people i have ever met. he says he has time off and would i like to stay at his house where he takes care of his infirmed 88-year-old mother. i thank him for the opportunity and accept, and so i stayed with him for a night and am going back later this week to help him out with whatever as he is off of work then.

thus concludes a chapter in this tale, i apologize for inconsistencies and errors, it is as complete as i care about now. comments and responses gladly accepted (though unsure of when they will be responded to).

This is my official online travel thingy. I can only update so often, so bear with slow changes. Feel free to comment however you like, only keep in mind the broad audience for this journal and also note again that my responses will probably take a while to show up due to the lack of internet access most of the time.

Thanks for your attentive whatever!