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Find me still at the Massey's house, the morning of Day 201. It is early yet. I'll get back on the road. I know what's expected of me. This ain't all about chilling out, drinking wine with the World's Most Beautiful People.
The Masseys, I mean. They're spectacular. They're Brad and Angelina. They are not fooling anyone by keeping an ugly dog. Or with the odd house guest who has seen better days, and very few of them at that.
It would be easier if they weren't so nice. Everything's casual here. They have kept me flattered and fed. I have fallen in love with Miss Stacy. And tried to convince her to walk off with me. All she could do was laugh.
Not at all derisively. Not so very much so. She is content to stay with her husband. Lee. Not a bad guy. If you like that tall, muscular, square-jawed, Hollywood handsome, strong-but-sensitive type. Some chicks do. To each her own. I can take him or leave him.
But I'll overcome my jealousy. I am happy to call him a friend. He has had by now had time to get used to men falling in Love with his wife. And women. It happens everywhere they go. He's learned to take it in stride. So long as everyone's polite about it. It enhances his victory.
I would like to tell you more about Lee. I think he should tell his own story. He's been famous twice. He's been up he's been down. He has been persecuted. He has been a folk hero. He's been targeted by Federal agencies.
Successfully. They're good at their jobs. They are not really money well spent. Lee isn't bothering anyone. He has always been pleasant to me. And has taken me in and treated me like a brother. Better still, an honored guest.
I had not really planned to stop here. I thought I'd swing by and say hi. The Masseys had found me somewhere online when I was just down the road from their house. There are no co-incidents in Life. Some Greater Force drew me here. And will draw me away. Sooner or later. I have been side-tracked before. In Elk, Washington and Arlee, Montana. In small town Iowa. In roadside saloons and baseball games in Fredericktown, Missouri. I've been spending most of my weekends at church. I change states every three weeks. It turns you around. I never know where I am. Looking back, I never have.
The Masseys of course are off at work. No lazy hippies, them. I am left alone with Rebel, the world's ugliest dog. As it turns out I've fallen in love with him too. He is an American bull dog. With papers, no less. There's no intelligence test. He reminds me of my dead friend Dozer. Who was a genius compared to this hound. I like him anyway.
He is nine months old. He cannot be trusted. He spends his days in a big cage. But since I'm here to watch him I let him out. He is a companionable creature. A bit jowly. His forehead is creased as if it's been struck with an axe. He weighs 80 lbs. before dinner. He has got at least forty to grow.
He's a coward. He has an underbite. He looks like Winston Churchill. You would not blink if you saw him with a big old cigar in his mouth.
Or God knows what else. He is just a dog. He's eaten all kinds of things. He'd eat the squirrels if he could catch them. They are too clever for him.
Crestview, Florida is just up the road, "a coon-scoot, as the crow flies." Maybe twenty, twenty-five miles off if I go overland. Through swamps and over crocodiles. I have never seen so many cops. And prisons and probation offices. And inmates picking up litter. Under guard at the side of the road. There but for the Grace of God.
They have none of them much noticed me. I have not yet been interviewed. Or cuffed or beaten or locked in a car. Or menaced with pistol and taser. Or mirrored sunglasses or close trimmed moustache. It is just a matter of time. The number one industry in the Panhandle seems to be convict labor.
A little hard work ain't going to kill me. It would be a blow to my pride. Brought down low. Dehumanised. Made to wear prison stripes. Cool Hand Luke. Brubaker. Hardcastle and McCormick. Smokey and the Bandit. The Rockford Files. Oscar Wilde. Scared Straight.
There is a hiking path for some miles. How many, I cannot be sure. It runs by the road but it makes sense to people who see you hiking there. And friend Friar Dennis has washed my hat. He did it out of disgust. It was stinking up his house and car. I can see how it might.
So I look less like a hobo than I once did. I should probably chop off my beard. This isn't the weather for facial hair. It is all but Summer outside. In the afternoons at any rate. The mornings can be a bit cold. It does rain some. There are winds and fog. Crestview is "the ice-box of Florida."
It's all relative you understand. The Truth almost always is. Anyone who's ever used an adjective is pushing his own point-of-view. She's rich. She's pretty. I'm hungry. We're Free. What is in it for me.
So cold in Florida is not awfully bad. I have other concerns. Twice Verizon has promised to send me a replacement for my computer. And twice they have failed. I am less upset than I have. I've had places to plug in. But it was Samsung that started this stutter step when I was still in Kentucky.
Battery problems. They have upset my pace. They have taken my mind of my journey. They're the Gargamel in this magical forest. They Will Get Me If It's the Last Thing They Do.
But I stay cheerful. It's all an act. There are worse things I could pretend. I could act all tough. I could deny my fear. I could act like I know all the answers. Instead I'd just as soon bumble along. You do my lying for me.
Lee promised to make me famous. We'd had a few drinks at the time. But that won't cost him his agent's commission. I could do with a little fame. I know I'm ill-suited to anonymousness. Let's see how the other half lives.
Don't think I'll forget you. I'll stay my humble self. I do have some debts to repay. But for the most part I will be the same old James. Only taller. And better looking.
I don't know if I have a photo of the Masseys. I know I tried several times. But my camera shakes. They are too beautiful. I tremble at their majesty.
They have too a second dog. Their first dog, if you prefer. A very old man, an Irish wolf hound with some Airedal for luck. He has a wise and thoughtful face. He looks just a little bit sad. And as if he has better things to do than pose for silly pictures.
It is coming up on twelve-thirty. I guess I had better ship out. To put a dent in this Crestview run. To start living life in my tent.
If I found a way to hang back a while the Masseys would take me fishing. I want to go fishing. I like eating fish. I'm sure there'd be plenty to drink. But a boy's got to walk, in spite of himself. America won't walk itself.
THANK-YOU Stac and thank you Lee. Love to both of your hounds. Thank you much for keeping me fed. And watered. And fertilised.
I'VE DONE my typing. There is nothing now to stop me from heading out. And yet I'm still here. It's magical. Inertia is a double-edged blade.
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