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Whatever noise I make tonight, we'll have to keep it short. I walked twenty-five miles today. But it came at the expense of too much time plugged in. I don't have a lot of battery to work with.
Let me begin by wishing you all the very happiest New Year. There seems to be a consensus that 2011 was awful indeed. I, for one, rather enjoyed it. It started rather gloomily, but I don't mind saying it was one of the best years I've ever had. I ate well, I made a lot of new friends and I was not once eaten by a bear. I fell in love three dozen times. I am in the best shape of my life. I wonder if all these unhappy souls are taking enough exercise.
I have high hopes for 2012. Maybe someone will love me back. Maybe all Life will begin to make sense. Maybe there will be Peace on Earth. Maybe someone will develop a computer battery that lasts as long as it claims to.
There was again fog when I woke up, in the woods by the funny farm. It was squeezing itself into raindrops. I did not get terribly wet. But I did face my usual challenge of climbing back down to the road.
It was not so much that I could not find a path. The underbrush was thin. But I had to leave gracefully. Some subtlty was called for. People get nervous when wild-eyed strangers come crawling out of those woods. I don't doubt it has been the preferred escape route for generations of lunatics.
I was up early. I made it a point. I am adjusting to a new time zone. I did not stay up until midnight to hear the New Year rolling in. There were explosions and fireworks. They went on for some hours. But I slept through the worst of it. I'm used to that sort of thing.
I have lived through a few Diwalis in Delhi, India. I don't know quite what it is; it's a Hindu thing. May Jesus Christ forgive them. It distingushes itself in its celebration. It's like nothing you've ever seen. Sort of a cross between Christmas and the Tet Offensive. I count myself lucky to have survived.
Incidentally, living in India is a great way to lose weight. Amoebic dysentery is slimming.
The fog stuck around for the first five miles. There were not many cars. I didn't even try to walk on the shoulder but stuck to the safety of the ditch. Where my socks got wet but I didn't mind. You can't start your new year feeling grumpy.
I had vague plans to meet my friends the Knightens. They were driving to Ocala. And promised to look for me on the road. It was awfully decent of them. After spending the best part of a month camped at their house, you'd think they'd be sick of me by now. Maybe they are and are too nice to show it. Either way it warms my heart.
But I did not sit around waiting for them. I took off like a rocket. I was hungry and Gretna, Florida was a dozen miles away. I had some hopes for Oak Grove and Mount Pleasant. They didn't amount to much. A few junkyards and a U-haul agency. Some houses needing repair.
I arrived in Gretna thirty minutes before Dennis and Ronné. I felt a little self-conscious. I was the only white person there. I made friends with a lunatic. He was wearing pants on his head. Artfully arranged into a sort of turban, but you could still tell they were pants.
He was nice to me but had no kind words for the voices inside his head. He would periodically interrupt our conversation with vile streams of profanity. Just to keep them in line, I guess. The truth is I couldn't understand much of what he said. Gibberish is hard to make out when voiced in a thick Southern accent.
The Knightens turned up with a fine picnic. We ate in the parking lot. On a blue blanket amongst the filth. Gretna is no paradise. There had been some thuggish characters about but they cleared off straight away. Dennis might be now a Man of God but he looks every inch like a cop. I'm sure his moustache in particular makes some people nervous.
I had two glorious sandwiches and we toasted the New Year. With sparkling cider, which makes me burp. It was still awfully nice. It was good to see the Knightens again. I don't know when we will next meet. Someday, someday. The world's too big and life is too damned short.
They took off and the crazy man came back to say goodbye. "You are the quarterback of your NFL team. I am quarterback of my NFL team. We will meet in the Super Bowl."
Nicely stated.
Fed and in a still better mood I took off down the road. Quincy, Florida was six miles off and I thought I might get me some pie. Out of habit more than anything else. Amd I needed to plug in my computer.
As it turned out I never got around to it. Quincy is a pretty big town. I wanted to get to the far end of it so I didn't get stuck there overnight. But I misjudged and overshot the place altogether. I was afraid I might die of thirst. The Knightens had given me a jug of Gatorade but I guzzled that on the road.
It was up in the higher seventies today, very nice walking weather. But I have been sweating like an absolute chimp. It's a trick to remain hydrated. I was afraid I might have to knock on doors and beg a cup of water. But I at last found a Shell station and parked myself there for an hour. And got the nice lady to charge my computer and drank two gallons of Coke.
Coke, you might say, is not the best thing to drink when you're all dried out. Maybe so, but it's good. Evil good when you're thirsty. I got some Gatorade too. I am a man of contradictions. That's what makes me interesting. You can play the banjo and like rock and roll. You can be a pot-head without smoking pot. You can be smart and do stupid things. You can be romantic and still be alone.
My highway has gone to four lanes for good. It has been threatening to for days. But I'm coming up hard on Tallahassee, one of the biggest towns I've met so far. I am going to be stuck there tomorrow night and I don't mind at all.
I hate to break my blistering pace but there isn't much I can do. And I can do with a shower. There is laundry to do. I need a new sleeping pad. And it is going to drop below freezing. I don't mind missing that. Tuesday is going to be colder still. I may spend two nights indoors.
Depending on how much sleeping pads cost.
I could do with one now. I am camped in the woods. I found the place well after dark. And felt my way a quarter-mile in. I am over some very sharp roots. But I had to hide. There's a weird vibe here. It comes from across the street. Something called the Florida Public Safety Institute, which is what George Orwell would call a police academy. It's a huge place. I guess they're between sessions now. I could have been a teaching tool. Harassing and detaining blameless hobos is a skill that has to be learned.
I still don't know how safe I am. I was a little scared crawling in. There is water here, though not much of it. I kept my ears pricked for gators. Who as far as I can tell sound very much like the beating of my own heart.
Nor do I quite know where I am. I might be easy to see come daylight. If I don't show up this time tomorrow, know I've been arrested or eaten.
Happy New Year. Love James.
DONE WITH ten-percent battery to spare. Nice typing, slick.
Happ New Year to you as well!!!!!
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