Valhalla -III-

“We are torn between nostalgia for the familiar and an urge for the foreign and strange. As often as not, we are homesick most for the places we have never known.

It’s after midnight and I’m walking back from a friends business, a bowling alley where I did odds and ends to make an extra forty bucks knowing that soon that money will become the marrow of the road, keeping me afloat and adrift rather than benched in Colorado. Maybe it’s the beers, maybe it’s the sky, maybe it’s Farmington Ave, a road I’ve walked over countless times, regardless I’m feeling the wave of insecurity sink in. I don’t own anything, I have nothing left to sell, nothing stored. I’ve gone minimal in the past, selling things and storing possessions at friends and families, living sans TV, computer, Internet, but this is different. The dumpster and EBay took what I had to give and didn’t ask for a second date, satisfied with the quick and dirty. Guitars that I slaved on for hours and years of my life were passed along to the highest bidder, bookshelves and lamps, resigned to the first person who could grab them out of the dumpster.

In the near psychotic haze of logistics, pages of weight comparisons, and the severe denial of lack of funds over the needs for solid equipment I’ve slaved making plans, rewriting them, finessing, only to eventually throw them all out. I can name the weight of every piece of gear in my bag down to the gram. The glare of a computer screen has been my window to the world for nearly three weeks, and it’s beginning to show. I’m on edge, my trigger finger’s ready to pull at the slightest hint of adventure, it doesn’t matter where, as long as it’s now, I’m your man.

That said, I don’t have anything to complain about, I’ll be back in Austin for South by Southwest on Sunday, with a family of friends, endless music, and some work. The final pieces of gear will be waiting at Rio’s, a like minded soul living under the blazing Texas sun. And from there, there are no firm plans, only sweeping azimuth’s and chance. West, north, south, that’s the guide. Hopefully far south, where roads are dirt, mountains are big, the women wear bright colors, and the back country is vast, Valhalla.


Here’s looking at you, kid


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