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Few of us are beyond redemption. I'm in no shape to cast stones. There've been times I've behaved less than honorably. I've known cowardice, even lust. I have been stupid and I've let people down. Denying it does not help. Them Samsung boys ought to look in the mirror and admit to themselves that they suck.
Only then can the healing begin. I'd be prepared to forgive them. To forget, no. Their products are crap. They only get to break my heart once. They have turned this blog into a blog about blogging. They've cheapened it. They've hollowed it out. They've been a festering blister on my very soul. They're trying to ruin my walk.
Yet still I persist, in spite of myself. It's my heroic nature. Or the spite I've known since childhood. I won't let the bastards win. I woke up at five-thirty with an unhappy stitch in my neck. It was dark and it was raining, or so I was led to believe. It took two hours sitting sad in my tent to figure out what was really going on. It wasn't rain. It was humidity, squeezing itself into drops. Spontaneously and not far above the ground. I went ahead and packed up.
Gosh, but it was steamy out there. I had a five mile walk. To a gas station that turned out to be closed. Then it was just eight miles more. To Lauderdale, Mississippi, which is where you find me now. Having just eaten four heat-lamp sandwiches. They were foul and they cost me a fortune. But a boy's got to eat. A half-dozen fig newtons are a good start but they will only carry you so far.
It has been a thoroughly unpleasant walk. It is hard not to blame Samsung. But too I was hungry and sore and absolutely sopping wet. And my shoulder kept fading into tall grass, which is rather a challenge to walk through. And weaves itself into my socks and tickles my ankles most cruelly.
The vast pine forest continues. There are a million places to camp. And little side roads to pull off and sit. I did that a couple of times. In some places the trees were covered with vines. There were too some weird little fruit. Half tomato and half melon. They're hollow inside but for seeds. I tasted one for the science of it. It was not very good.
I was very pleased to reach this gas station. I figured it to be four o'clock. It was in fact short of one. It is hard to tell time on these overcast days. Last night I quit an hour early. I was certain it was about to get dark. I cheated myself out of three or four miles.
It was very warm last night. Up in the sixties I reckon. I was content to hug my sleeping bag rather than climbing inside. It should be as warm tonight. But it is going to rain for real. I'm not so very well cheered.
From here I am westbound to Meridian. I might wind up backtracking some. And I don't know where I will go from there. It is Samsung's fault.
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I've gone and hiked myself off the tree farm. I'm sure going to miss it. I like camping amongst evergreens. It makes me feel like an Ewok.
Find me now under other trees. I could not tell you what kind. But my next adventure will be learning the names of every tree on earth. Because I'm in love with a forest ranger. I wish she worked in a donut shop.
I spent more than two hours at the gas station. I never felt truly at home. They kept charging me to refill my Coke. It limited me to four quarts. And it was rather a dirty place, though it was overstaffed. But I had to make that fruitless effort to recharge my computer.
Samsung sucks.
The sun came out while I was sitting in there. You think it would cook off the steam. All it did is melt it like cheese and make it just that much more sticky. Man, it is gooey out here. I am soaked in greazy sweat.
And my trousers have become, how shall I say it, just a little bit clingy. A couple of nice men have offered me rides but I'm not headed that way.
I had just two hours to cover eight miles. That is a pretty brisk pace. But I managed it. I'm a superman. I am less than ten miles from Meridian. Which is yet west of here but it has to be done.
Because Samsung sucks.
I believe I will move indoors tomorrow. I need to get this damned thing fixed. But it may just work out. There are expected violent electrical storms. And I am feeling a bit sticky. And my bones are sore. And I smell like a bus station mensroom. And I'm covered in little red bumps. I like to have lots of reasons to piss away cash. I am not such a wealthy man. If I were I'd be married by now. Chicks dig wealthy guys.
I suppose they also like stability and a man with some sense of direction. All I've got is a sense of humour and a pair of clingy pants.
I was at the end there walking into the sun. The sky was pretty tonight. With lots of wispy little pink clouds and purple along the horizon. Every now and then a fighter jet would thunder by low overhead. There is an Air Force base east of here. God bless America.
I think fewer people would get behind wars if they knew how blasted loud they are.
There have been a few towns on this adventure that have taken forever to reach. Wenatchee was one. Then Belle Fourche [from the French, meaning "beautiful foosh"]. Meridian is yet another. But I'm not really looking forward to it. These big cities can be unkind. And I'm afraid I might be arrested for punching a Verizon employee. No Nuremburg defense will work. They suck by association
THE NUMBER ONE cause of injury for deer hunters? Falling out of deer stands. Their number-two complaint? Cirrhosis.
AT THE TOP of a very long steep hill I swear I could smell the sea. But it may just have been that wet dog smell I generate all on my own.
I PREFER humidity to cold. Humidity probably won't kill me.
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