The first picture is of the 12 foot locust logs we shaved the bark off of and then charred. They'll be used for the deer fence. The bottoms are charred so they won't sprout in the ground and attract termites and other insects. Michael's pants caught on fire in the charring process. It's the hardest work upper body work I've ever done. Even though, it was satisfying and convivial work. It wasn't labor or operation, but real work. it soon became fun. Much better than when I was in the service of the Ogre King. 

The second picture is of the chicken we killed and ate Monday night. Wendy grabbed it by it's neck and snapped it like a whip. Then she cut it's throat and drained the blood. Even after that it kept jumping and doing flips. We took it in and doused it in boiling water to loosen the feathers and tore them all off. We then feasted. We had first hard boiled eggs. Then, dosas topped with a curry/tomato sauce and fried potatoes. Finally, cooked chicken liver and heart and the bird roasted with garlic under the skin. 

The third picture is of my pet Fester. It's the sourdough starter I've been feeding for about a week. It's growing...

We planted more this week; mostly onions. A neighboring farm fertilized their fields with chicken poop and what smells like rotting carcass bits. The smell now permeates the surrounding county. 

We finally moved into the apprentice cabin. I helped finish the stairs. Before we were in a room of the community center. The cabin is a two floor 14'x 14' (I think I've said this before.) Anyways, there are six people sleeping on the top floor. There is one bunkbed and everyone else is on the floor. I now inhabit the top bunk of said bunk bed. The wind shakes the whole cabin. Friday we plastered the walls with a mixture of clay, sand, and white flour. It now looks like a burrow. 

I'll be headed to market tomorrow in Bloomington.

Cabin building

Most of this week has been spent building the apprentice cabin: insulating, putting up drywall, laying flooring, and screwing siding. It should be livable shortly. It's a two floor 14' x 14' cabin with big windows on the southern side. It'll eventually be solar powered and we'll be cooking on woodstove, solar oven, rocket stove, or fire. Someone suggested naming it 'The Condo', but we added an 'r' to make it 'The Condor'.

We've also been planting some. There are six rows of low tunnels (basically short greenhouses) which we planted with kale, carrots, beats, collards, lettuce, and onions. To prep the fields plenty of manure was shoveled. 

This week we started making bread; including sourdough. All the other apprentices have tons of cooking experience so there's much to learn.

It's a big change in lifestyle, but less strenuous than I expected. Work doesn't start till 9 and we get 2 days off. The shower hasn't been working for a while, so I've only managed two so far. I've been eating better than I ever have (sorry mom). I found a small waterfall and a pond on the property (hello summer). There's a really nifty market in Paoli that I like better than Whole Foods or Trader Joes.

It hasn't all been pristine farm life. Excretion takes place in an outhouse a hundred meters from where I sleep; making for some cold nighttime walks. Most of the time I'm cold, dirty, and physically exhausted. I guess this all comes with the change in pace. It's starting to alleviate through adjustment. 

Off Again

I've decided to commence blogging. I like sharing interesting things I've discovered. I'll catch you up on what's been happenin' and where I am now. I haven't given up on the cheap mobile life however. Here's a quote from Venkatesh Rao.

"Nomadism is, in a way, the most accessible pattern of mindful living. Ownership and community life change from being stock concepts (defined by things you accumulate) to flow concepts ( defined by things you pass through and that pass through you). Identity starts to anchor to what you are doing rather than what you have."

After returning home from my brief respite in Tucson I immediately took to brainstorming ideas to avoid the drudge of the conventional career path. Two opportunities presented themselves. A friend of my dad's offered to house me and give me a job in Nashville building a house. This would allow me to save up thousands in tax free money. Also, I applied and was accepted to a permaculture apprenticeship in French Lick, IN. This doesn't really pay but gives a medium to express my interests. 

Either of these wouldn't start till March, so I had an interval at home working at Dominos. During this time I read several awesome books and watched a few good movies. Here are some of my favorites:

Crossing the Rubicon by Michael Ruppert; this is an incredibly thorough investigative report of the events of 9/11 by journalist and former CIA detective Michael Ruppert. 

Finite and Infinite Games by James Carse; a lot of the things we do are games we play. We get in trouble when we forget we're playing a game and take it too seriously. Infinite games are the most fun because the purpose of the game is the continuation of play and there are no winners or losers.

The Myth of the Machine by Lewis Mumford; genius from the first half of the twentieth century. Traces the impacts of technology and mechanical thinking on the story of human cultural procession. 

Mortal Engines by Philip Reeves; set in a cyberpunk future, cities are mobile and cross the barren earth looking for small towns to gobble up and scavenge for parts. 

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams; hilarious and complex plot. Well written with clever dialogue. Many interesting scientific anecdotes. 

Movies:

Never Let Me Go; based on the book, clones are raised at a school for future organ donations to dying originals. 

Sunshine; astronauts travel to reignite the dying sun.

The Square; documents the ongoing revolution in Egypt.

I also worked for a while installing flooring until I discovered my boss was an ogre and had to escape before I was eaten. 

Erwan Le Corre has a novel approach to exercise as functional natural movement. http://www.menshealth.com/fitness/fitness-survive-wild#mobify-bubble

Another insanely cool guy in sort of the same camp is Ido Portal.

Both of my above options would last for eight months. I chose the apprenticeship and that's where I am now. Permaculture is a systematic approach to growing food. It focuses on ecological design principles to incorporate all elements of an active biotic community; plants, animals, soil, et cetera. I'll be living and working here for the next eight months. The Hoosier National Forest is next door. Food is great. Lately it's been a lot of sweet potatoes, potatoes, kale, beans, lentils, and tea. The work's hard and messy, but never ceases to be fun and interesting. The people are really authentic and compassionate, conversational and weird.  

I'll probably keep this up weekly like before; giving updates and morsels that feed my insatiable curiosity. 

End

Remind me never to ride Greyhound again. My 40 hour bus ride turned into a 48 hour one. Leaving the station in Dallas the suspension broke. After returning for a new bus and departing Dallas again, the rear view mirror came unhinged and the door wouldn't latch. The passengers were mutinous at this point. After a mechanic fixed the bus up we started up and then lost all the pressure in our tires. After spending several hours in the Fort Worth terminal a new bus was provided. Later that night, the bus broke down because the computer decided to shut it off. Why the computer has power over the running capacity of the bus, I don't know. 

Thought only to exist in the Drake and Josh/iCarly universe of Nickelodeon, I spotted a Groovy Smoothie in El Paso, Texas. 

On my second bus a lady was worried that I was traveling all alone. I asked how old she thought I was. 14

I arrived in Tucson at about two in the Afternoon. I gathered my giddy energy and walked up the road. That first day I found an orange tree outside an apartment complex which I promptly climbed and snatched a few orange treasures. I spent that first night in the desert a little off the road. I could see more stars than I'd ever seen. Standing in the dark cold air, I let loose a few Rocky air punches to psych myself up. Then I preformed some dance sequence that only a mother could love. The desert is very cold at night.

I never thought much about food or hunger. A bag of apples and the oranges I picked lasted me almost two days. I never thought about running out of money either.

I did a lot of walking after that. It was never my plan to stay in Tucson and work, but to hit the road in search of adventure and to live leanly. I walked west out of town and through Tucson Mountain Park. Cacti were everywhere. Some were 30-40 feet tall. There was one moment where I looked back at the mountains I had just crossed as a pink sunrise crept through the crags of the peaks. Everything was very still and quiet. The only animals I heard were the local suburban dogs back in town. 

I tried hitchhiking out of town towards Southern California. I had never hitchhiked before, so this was a novel experience. I got a few rides initially, one from a worried mother and few more from some locals in Painted Rock, AZ. I think that's the name of the town. The hitchhiking pool then went dry and died into everlasting drought. I tried for hours and could not get anywhere. Drivers gawked at me through their car windows like at some specimen in a zoo. I was banking on my boyish charm to convince some drivers of my youthful innocence, but nothing availed. May be they thought, "what's that kid doing on the side of road? He's probably a serial killer, step on it." At one point a cop passed me merging onto the on ramp. I thought for sure he would wheel around, but I didn't stick around to find out. It was all very disheartening. I decided to make my way back to Tucson. This involved more walking. 

I observed on the bus ride west, that from the interstate, all towns in America are fundamentally the same. Same restaurants, billboards, suburbs, city skylines, concrete landscape, roadside trash. The same incessant ugliness. Look at all we give up! Is it all even worth it? Everything that is beautiful is being destroyed. I can't stand, I rage, I despair, I spit, gnash teeth. I'm mad that I can't see the entire starscape available to me at night because of light pollution. I hate that I can't drink from the streams and rivers without worrying about the cocktail of carcinogenic chemicals and human waste swirling in its depths. I hate that there's no clean air to breathe. I'm sad that there are millions of species I'll never see because we've exterminated them. And the list goes on and on. Oh and I rant. This is what I realized about hitchhiking: most of your day will be on the side of the interstate and at fast food restaurants off the exit ramp because there's nothing else to eat. The first disappointment.

The second disappointment: generosity is scant. It seems the most generous people I met were those who had the least. More stuff for some reason creates a false sense of scarcity and security and we fear each other for it. In the present age of identification with wealth and commodification of human relationships, my naive hopes for memorable connections were as fleeting as the desert wind.

One object of traveling was to be closer with nature and learn from it. Experience has led me to believe that maybe traveling isn't the best way to go about that goal. It might be better to devote oneself to a local conclave of wilderness, tucked in the heart of suburbia; frequent it, familiarize with it. For me this is a patch of woods at the entrance of my neighborhood.

Back in Tucson I contemplated my options. I could stay in town and find work; be homeless until I had enough for an apartment. I could spend all of my energy struggling across the interstate. Or, I could humbly accept defeat and face the humiliation of returning home. Before I made any decisions, I had to reexamine my motives. Why was I traveling?

I was traveling to test myself. Traveling, or at least the kind I'm doing, isn't very fun, it's about pushing limits, learning about yourself. It's very hard. I based my travel style on the generosity of others, the avenue of hitchhiking, and the apparent abundance I read about in like travel accounts. Novelty and natural beauty inspired me to travel. Tragically, I rarely found the support or inspiration I had hoped for.

I will throw my ego to the wolves and return home. After talking with an ex-police officer about the local levels of crime and crazies and the very real possibility that I could be killed over a nice sleeping bag, I decided to return home. It's the wisest and safest decision I feel I can make right now. It just became too difficult and dangerous to carry on. It's heartbreaking really. 

So that's where the chapter closes. I'm typing this from the bus home on my iPod. Tucson may be wasn't the best city to start something like this. Or, winter wasn't the best season. Or, I should have had a plan B. Or I was too inexperienced, naive, foolish. Or all of these things are true. 

From the morbidity of my dictation it might sound like I will soon go comatose and die. But I assure you, these unfortunate and disparaging events have in no way been a mistake or defeat. I've learned valuable lessons and reap a better understanding. I will no doubt venture future escapades from the daily drudge; incorporating experience into a more calculated planning. I appreciate all who gave support, all who perspired excitedly while reading blog posts (probably just me), and all who I might be disappointing.  

I will be going back to live with my parents. I'm not embarrassed by this. I really missed them and my brothers. I'll be glad to be home for my mom's cooking and the new season of American Idol.

I still don't regret dropping college. Possibly the best path I've ever taken. I absolutely don't regret setting out on this journey. I miss all the homies I made at college. You guys are the best.

This will probably be my last post. When I do set off again I don't know whether I'll chronicle it or not. 

Leaving

Of course the day I depart is the coldest day of the year. My bus exits the Louisville station at 6:35 tonight. Forty hours, 2,000 miles, seventy degrees later I will be in Tucson. My mom will cry.

My backpack is packed. I'm bringing a tent, sleeping bag, a few T-shirts, a couple long-sleeved tees, shorts, a pair of pants, toiletries, poncho, socks, boots, ipod touch, notebook, pens, hat, gloves, water bottle, running tights, copper kettle, glasses, sandals, and a bag of apples.

I have no idea what I will do when I get there or how to do it. I don't know what I want to do. There's no list of options that I could conjure up. There's nothing I could say now that wouldn't change when I get there. I don't know how or where or when I will discover what to do or why to do it. All I do know is I don't want to go to school or live at home. May be I'm naive or downright foolish, but it seems the wisest thing I can do right now.

I'm scared out of my wits. There's no telling what will be. There's a constant feeling of my stomach moving up to live in my throat. I have to poop a lot too. Very similar to pre-race jitters.

Here's a magical article I read earlier this week.

Intermission

This is my winter interlude. That last part is fun to say. Winter interlude. I live in limbo; the intermission between two sagas. This is the part of the movie that the director inserts a montage backed up by nostalgic music to provide inspiration and meaning and connect plot point A to plot point B. In plain terms, not much is happenin'.

The last two weeks have been spent watching movies, eating holiday feasts, visiting family members, and gathering supplies for the coming voyage. Mostly, I've been lying around doing nothing of significance.

It's even difficult to read, watch a movie, or do anything requiring extended focus. It's either anxiety or eager anticipation of what awaits. I think a lot about everything that could go wrong or right; twisting over hypothetical scenarios and debacles. It's terrifically frightening. No plans, no control, no gaurantee.

Heck, I'm tired of reading books, watching movies, reading blogs. I want do something. Be alive! Stories only go so far.

Rex (works with my dad) graciously donated a backpack. Before, I was going to take my Jansport from school. I got a good sleeping bag, some base layer clothing, boots, a tent, and other necessities. Most of these were provided with the help of my dad. He's pretty gung-ho.

I spent the other night in the backyard. Lying in my sleeping bag, looking up at the grey, nylon tent ceiling, I surveyed my 4' x 8' living quarters. Home indeed.

Books

Ahh books. Books have done a lot for me. I didn't seriously start reading until high school and regret not starting sooner. So much time was and is wasted watching movies or browsing YouTube for hours on end. Books help me to articulate frustrations and address them; to understand why something like college and a nine to five don't sound remotely appealing. They stretch and mold my perceptions and beliefs; pushing me to ask questions and think creatively. They give me the questions to ask; present new ways of asking. They've introduced me to cultures the world over, a variety of people, and novel ideas and concepts that would have been hidden or otherwise unknown. This blog is about the physical manifestation of an ongoing literary exploration.

Into The Wild was a very catalytic book. It's hard to finish that book or movie and not feel the desire to gallop into the remaining wilderness not devoured by industry. Did anyone else think, "Hey, may be I could do that?" or "I want to do that."? I read that book when I was sixteen and I've been asking myself that question for almost three years.

Well, except for the part where he goes up to Alaska and dies.

The adventures of Christopher McCandless sparked a strain of reading that branched into a web of ideas that are deliriously exciting. I am disillusioned and slightly depressed by what it currently means to grow up. Does growing up mean student debt, gaining 50 pounds, 40 hours a week of indentured servitude, shopping for furniture at IKEA, or retirement? People actually believe in this load of crap? That happiness is a career or two story house or nice car? Into The Wild gave me a tangible rope to pull on and understand all this rubbish

John Muir and David Henry Thoreau are awesome. Grandfathers of the environmental movement if there were any. Education of a Wandering Man by Louis La'Amour. Hand to Mouth to India. This guy walked from England to India without any money. Absolute thug. The Walk West by Peter Jenkins. The Last American Man by Elizabeth Gilbert. Chronicles Eustace Conway and his adventures. Vagabonding by Rolf Potts.

Those are the core books involving travel that have helped build a foundational courage. My courage comes from what I have learned and understanding that the things that we most often fear aren't that scary.

Books are the poop. Books save the world. Go read one, or several.