November 17, 2002
Manchester, Connecticut, USA
10:22pm "This is my Bible...." Carrie said a minute ago, holding up a thick paperback, The New American Poetry. "Its all beat poetry." Carrie is now sitting on the couch behind me doing homework for theater arts. I met her at Falcon Ridge folk festival in New York state this summer. She was reading aloud beat poetry by flashlight on the hillside tent village with a girl friend tapping in rhythm on a hand drum and another dancing with very little clothes on. Captivated by it all, Courtney and I joined them.
We've been exchanging emails since then, and when she said she would set up a show for me at her school, I thought she was in university, but come to find out she is only 15 years old. She is very sharp and bright. I have lots of friends a lot younger and older. It is the mental connection that matters.
Her mother and brother are cool and smart too. Her mom, Paige, practices law protecting citizens against fraudulent telemarketers. Charities, like police associations, she said, pay telemarketers to raise funds for them and by law the telemarketers only need to give the charity %10 of the money raised. So someone would call your home on behalf of the police association, and if you made a donation of $100, the police would only get $10. Its a legal scam and she says its huge business in Connecticut.
When I arrived here this afternoon, Carrie was on her way to a Godspell rehearsal at a church up the street. I went with her and began reading Dove, a book Emma gave telling the true story of a sixteen year old who embarked on a journey to sail solo around the world.
This evening, Carrie, Page and I watched footage recording the first week of my journey since leaving home. The night before I left, Donna called to say she was giving me an early Christmas gift, putting a down payment on a video camera. It was the last thing I picked up before leaving the city. While driving down the highway, I pulled it out of the box, put the battery and tape in and began filming. The camera is tiny, but picture quality and sound are excellent. I'm really happy with the beautiful scenes, sounds and actors I've capture so far.
I am impressed by film work Carrie has shown me. She expresses herself fearlessly. She is a doer. She is an action hero. She has huge desire to do great things... and she is doing them... but feels held back by school. Looking at my photo album she shook and sobbed with tears streaming down her face in awe of beauty in which I have been immersed, jealous to have the same experiences.
Truly this life I am living is a dream. Friday night I stayed at Green Mountain College in Vermont and hung out with Emma, who sang to me as we made Burritos, then we watched The God's Must Be Crazy, about African bushmen who have had no contact with the outside world and the peaceful slow paced life in which they live, and that reminded of the people I'm heading to see in Robilito; so afterward we watched the footage I shot from down there. I'm really looking forward to seeing those folks again. They are so special. Its a whole different reality.
Early Saturday morning with snow flying, I blasted off in the Dragonfly spaceship to Cragsmoor, a mountain top town in the Shawangunk range of Southern New York State. Suzy, from Toronto, wanted to meet me, so I randomly picked Ice Caves Mountain which I found in the atlas and it sounded like a cool place, although I knew nothing about it. Cragsmoor was small I figured, with not more than a couple restaurants, so I told her I'd find one, be there at one by noon and park so she could see me. There were no restaurants, so I parked at the post office, then the Library, which was charming, like a log cabin with a huge stone fireplace and an amazing collection of paintings and other art work. I worked on email waiting for Suzy till past one o'clock, and then headed off to the ice caves, where I found her.
Freezing raining pelted us during the entire hike, but our spirits where high enjoying each other's company and the spectacular misty, cliffy, ice covered wonderland. Like from Lord or the Rings, the cave system was a magical scene-- a labyrinth formed by the separation of huge detached blocks, and the acoustics inside were interesting with little streams gurgling through and an echo that made playing my tin whistle that much better.
We had dinner in Ellenville and then spent the evening camped out in her jeep near a Buddhist Temple on the mountain. Suzy played guitar and sang a song she wrote for me. It was dreamy. She's an angel, with such a kind child-like spirit, but lookin' badass like a tattooed Betty Page with long dark hair and straight cut bangs. It rained all night and we split paths in the morning after I made her a seashell necklace. She had made me a compilation tape of her favorites and I grooved down the highway all the way here to Manchester.
Emma also made me a compilation, which I listen to from Vermont to the Gunks. When I listen to friend's music it brings back memories of my time with them and helps me hold on to their spirit. I crank it up and rock out. At a stoplight I looked over at the next car filled with a family of hicks all gawking at me with jaws dropped stunned by my eccentrics. They didn't finch. I laughed my ass off. Cars are funny reality bubbles.
I got some great emails tonight that made me feel warm and fuzzy and one that got me psyched:
It is no coincidence I am contacting you at this particular moment in time.
My name is David Mitchal. Ten years ago I met a Man with some pretty astounding abilities. He could be referred to as a White Shaman. He removed the pain I had in my lower back for over five years that no doctor, chiropractor etc. could do. Anyway, I am almost sixty and I live in the Northwest Mountains of Arizona totally off the grid. I built my own place, installed my own solar system, water system and cut, load, split and stack my own firewood. Patience Max, it all has meaning. I believe, after having read your story, that it would do you a world of GOOD to speak with this Man and then make your own decisions. I just finished speaking with Him and he told me of a travel he had where the word MAX appeared to Him out in the solar system. He asked me if this word had any significant meaning to me, so I punched up MAX on the internet and am now contacting you. To quote Jaimes Whitegle, a lightning shaman and time traveler, there is an extreme urgency to remember the creative masculine force and the ancient blueprint of the time traveler knowledge. The purpose is for protection and safety for the human because the emanating dangers are rising against human beings. Men and women will discover they have no choice to do other than become telepathic. It is the way for things to come in the near future. I feel absolutely wonderful in offering you an opportunity to come in contact with Jaimes as I have no doubt He can and will present many answers to your Spirit on its Quest for Knowledge. You are more than free to visit me here in Arizona at your will. I am looking forward to a positive response.