Category Archives: Each Mile – Journal Entries and Writing

Journal Entries and Writings that correspond with each episode of Each Mile. Uncensored and unedited. Gruelling, frantic and jarring.

Not the Way of Seattle – Original Post March 19, 2010

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The Main Drag of Port Townsend

 

I am stealing Internet from Quimper Sound. I am a rebel in a red scarf serenaded by a guitar that wales out from a door. Across the street a reputed film house, The Rose Theatre, apparently makes the best popcorn in town. I may have to sample it, since in Coupeville, yesterday, I had the best Cornbeef Coprocon Potatoes, Soda Bread…..and ONIONS in town.

The clock tower welcomed me into the city

I sit on the sidewalk of Port Townsend, the dubbed “New York of the West” in the earlier part of the century. Due to Seattle’s coal, drunken sailors and a lack of railroad tracks, the town is a ghost of what could have been, what should have been. Nestled across from Keystone Point, the town is beautiful, the facades are multicolored sunwashed, the temperature is matched in brightness, the people smile and say hello. Some clickity clack heels of some odd women breaks my thought. I stare at my reflection in the computer screen. Handsome devil on a bike. Love it. I am going all the way…San Diego here I come. I can do it now….not before…but now I have the ball rolling and the inertia will take me there.

Couch surfing host extrodinaire, Andrew

The days are to get longer, harder, faster ridden. Today I will sit and chill with Andrew on his dog farm. We talked about his career as an actor late last night, about the film he had made in Romania called Hideous, about the money he had to smuggle, 20,000, that he was laundering for them into Romania, about the toxic fluid scene he shot with real mercury, about the lover he met, staying 4 extra days in the Ladlmum Hotel in Bucharest to be with. We ate break, drank wine and soup, and laughed. We went back to his farm on discovery road and he showed me into the guest room, a bed covered in flies he wiped clean. His place was a single wide, which is a wheeled in home, which he retorted after I asked, “You really are a city boy, all hicks live in these.” I fell asleep to the sound of his 5 or 6 Turkish pups outside, llamas…..and frogs. Today…biked into town, visited townhall, talked to the curator for 97 hours about town history….now its time to end abruptly to go explore as the bus leaves back to discovery bay at 5:55 and I cannot miss it,

Stay Groovy

Ira

Photo of the Day- Squirrel Drinking Cola

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And you thought that this was some clever ploy to get you to look at my picture. In my world, there is no such thing as ploys, just literal descriptions of odd stuff that really exists. Squirrels, apparently, in Munster are like velociraptors, except even more advanced. I have difficulty using straws and they were made for my species.

Drinking Squirrel. Enough Said. Germany.

PHOTO OF THE DAY – Straw Man Part 2

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So this time around I decided to get a little artsy with some simple features on Photoshops Elements. What do you think? Kind of neat, is what I’m thinking.

Like Neanderthal Man’s evolution into modern day human beings, many factors, changing landscapes and climates contributed to this happening. I think the same can be said for straw people. Unlike man, the straw people evolution takes considerably less than millions upon millions of years. In fact, I am pretty sure, the creative genius behind this master creation came up with monumental upgrade in a single evening, possibly sipping Peach Schnapps, hopefully gorging himself with something as equally stereotypical German.

Straw Man on a Chopper, Germany

This straw man is a lot more human like. While his brothers and sisters are helpless from their countless predators and the daunting etherial elements, due to their lack of legs and/or protective layer, this dude has both legs and a vehicle to boot. He’s even doing the gun fingers. He is basically the Fonz, the Marlon Brando of his kind. Possibly even a Jesus like figure to his followers. I’d say I would have been a follower if the restaurant he was luring me too was a few km’s off the path. Unfortunately I didn’t have that time. If the gun finger didn’t shoot you dead with conviction in your tracks that a wonderful smogesboard was awaiting you, then the cool, hip backwards hat would.