May 29, 1999
Study Butte, Texas, USA

2:11am. This morning, I asked Richard, "Why did you enter the special forces?"
"I didn’t want to..." he answered. "It was a lesser of two evils. At the age of 16, I punched out a cop for trying to arrest me for smoking weed. We were... but we dropped it hundred feet away. My lawyer said the judge would drop the charges if I joined the army, so I did. I wrote a bunch of tests and I was asked to join the special forces. They trained me how to kill.... but I never did... just served in the European amphitheater in Germany, then got out at 19."

12pm. I think Randy should have an alias when I publish my journal, but he said, "I can’t be hurt anymore," and wants me to leave his name as it is.

1:50pm. I have been watching TV since opening my eyes this morning at 9:30am. The past two hours I have been in history class learning about Cleopatria’s World in Alexandria.

2:54pm. Bill Curtis on Investigative Reports just presented a documentary about the effects of Meth’ on it’s users and how the police are cracking down. It said "1 of 4 people admitted to the ER are high on crack".

6:53pm. After the Meth’ documentary, I started reading an article about Lenin in a Time magazine and fell asleep. I woke up at 5pm, got a shower, made a tuna sandwich, then sat back down in front of the boob to learn about "Mysteries of the Bible" while eating. I like watching TV while eating

7:11pm. School is finished - it’s time to go play (It’s too hot to play outside during the day). I intend to climb a mountain a couple miles north and sleep on top.

10:14pm. I have been on top for the past hour and am currently writing by moonlight. There is a warm breeze. The crickets are singing in all directions. They’ve inspired me to sing... "My choice is what I choice to do... and if I ain’t causing no harm.... it shouldn’t bother you. Your choice is who you choose to be... and if you are causing no harm ... you’re alright with me."

10:35pm. I’m laying on my back, looking up at the Big Dipper, completely relaxed, without out an ache, pain or worry. My problem is this pen, which won’t allow me to write inverted. Half of me wants to just lay here and the other half wants to bring you here. What makes me want to carry you to this place with words? Am I fulfilling the duty of a massager, or am I just attempting to defeat loneliness?

"The best way to get a chick to fall for you is to take her to view spectacular sunsets," Stefan once suggested. "She’ll think it’s you... but it’s the sunset."

The sharing of experiences, and later, memories, is very important to me, thus it is ironic that I am traveling alone. That’s why I write. It seems a shame to keep it all to myself. It’s like a friend that doesn’t restrict my freedom, and doesn’t bother me, except to give me guilt when it is ignored for long periods of time.

I’m on the look out for shooting stars, listening to a choir of coyotes howl, with domestic K9 accompaniment. The loudest mosquito I’ve ever hear is buzzing around my head. I have not been bitten yet tonight, although I almost wish he’d get it over with.

The route I took to get up here forced me to climb down a 100 foot cliff of steep lose rock. During the decent, I encountered a small cave occupied by a vulture with two chicks. The large menacing bird flew out-- nearly knocking me off the cliff.

I don’t believe in insurance; it’s a parasite of fear.

2:47am. Before my eyes, the Big Dipper rotated from up side down to right side up, yet it has not moved.

Earth’s complete rotation takes 23 hours, 56 minutes, 4.09 seconds, and it’s revolution around the sun takes 365 days, 6 hours, 9 minutes, 9.54 seconds.

Amidst chaos of aimless asteroids and sporadic earth quakes is the precision of the master clock of celestial bodies-- and the question of how it was set in motion. Like a jig saw puzzle-- every piece has it’s place. Over-head, Bats swoop like jet fighters picking off mosquitoes. And the wheel of time rolls on.

Last night, at the Starlight, I met a guy named John, who, three years ago, began bicycling around the state of Texas as the basis for a book. "No free rides" was the mind-set he started with, but, like myself, he found that focusing on ego interferes with a journey’s natural flow. He has hung-out here for two weeks, spending most days recording the local color at Mrs. Stacy’s Cafe, using a tape recorder and note pad. He keeps the note pad in site on the table, so the person he is in conversation with can see he is recording, but secretly, he activates the tape on his lap under the table or in his jacket. "The project would be impossible without the tape recorder," he said.

3:21am. I’ll take a couple shots, then get some shut eye. You’ve been great company.