Excerpts #1 1999

We mooned a few Woodstockers driving through New York.

We considered asking the police if there was a 'hood close by where we could find some cheap ethnic food.

There was a town in Michigan named Climax. We took a picture.

I have mosquito bites the size of quarters.

We're in Dodgeville, Wisconsin, pumping our own water, sleeping in a one room school house last used in 1962.

I wake up to pee at 4:00am. The bathroom is in a barn around back. I pee off the porch. The corn fields are covered in a layer of fog and a strip of it is illuminated by a full moon. The sky is only somewhat dark and full of different color clouds. They look as if someone sneezed and they all fell apart.

Some kid from Seattle asked us about raves and drag racing in New Jersey because he had heard, "There's a lot of that shit out there."

There is a type of ground squirrel that hibernates for 8 months. It breathes once a minute and its heart beats only five times a minute.

Richard is from England. He loves Credence Clear Water Revival. He smells as bad as I imagined any human could ever smell. He says his ancestors discovered New Jersey and tells us that Cindy Crawford ate at the Mexican restaurant the week before.

In Spokane our campsite is within earshot of a shooting range.

One bookstore sort of doubled as a cat hostel. On top of the bookshelves were railings connecting various parts of the store on which the cats walked.

Apparently my uncle accidently fired a shotgun in the bedroom.

Everything's ok now.