Some random notes about various stuffs. I’m in between campgrounds, haven’t had much access to internet, and just so you know, my next blog will include lots of Bob Dylan-style name dropping.
I am now in a different time zone and I have seen my first dead armadillo on the side of the road! Both of these things are very exciting to me (hence the exclamation point).
The first place I went to in
“Did you just drive all the way from
I told her I hadn’t driven the whole way in one straight shot. I’d been doing book readings at libraries along the way and camping out at night.
She said, “Oh, ok. That explains the facial hair then.” I nodded, and she said, “Let me guess, you’ve been on the road for a week.”
I told her no, I’d actually been on the road for over two weeks. I considered explaining to her that I was a late bloomer, that I hadn’t even started shaving until I was in college, that I couldn’t attend pool parties between the ages of 13 and 18 because I had no hair in my armpits, but I decided not to. I was worried that too much talk of facial hair would lead to us discussing her own crop of robust chin whiskers. But maybe she was proud of the facial hair. Maybe she took secret pleasure in the fact that her own beard was more impressive than mine.
In
I also find myself leaving many things out of my blog in favor of including small incidents with strangers. For example, I’ve been hanging out in the woods a lot, cooking on fires, hiking trails, going to beaches, and exploring caves. But I don’t really feel the need to write about these things. I don’t know what to write about them. I sat alone in the woods yesterday for four hours reading Valley of the Dolls . . . that’s all I have to say about that.
Bugs are bigger in
Late a couple nights ago, there was some sort of animal waiting for me at my tent when I got back from going to the bathroom. Even with my headlamp, all I could see were its eyes. I yelled at it and told it to go away, but it just sat there next to my tent, watching me with its reflective eyes. I hissed and made kind of barking noises but the thing didn’t budge. Finally I picked up a small rock and chucked it at the thing. It ran away into woods. I hurried into my tent and rushed to zip up the door as soon as I was inside. There are alligator signs all over the park, but the thing wasn’t an alligator. Thinking about it the next morning, I decided it was probably a lonely housecat or something.
There are more churches in
Speaking of god, the other day I was almost killed by a metal cylinder that came flying off the back of a truck in front of me. Luckily the Odyssey is nimble and I was paying attention (I had just finished texting my bffff about Hannah Montana’s new line of edible cosmetics for fussy housecats. LMAO!) It was then that he carried me.
When I woke up the other day, I had a voicemail from a friend in
Speaking of the fanny pack and my general ability to defend myself, I have yet another fanny pack-related thought (sorry).
While most segments of society laugh at the fanny pack, I think old ladies get some comfort from seeing a young man wearing a fanny pack. They look at the fanny pack and then they smile at me and I get this feeling that if a tidal wave suddenly came and flooded the city, those old ladies would reach for my fanny . . . pack. They think I’m safe because of the fanny pack. They think no one dangerous would wear a fanny pack. So, for all the old ladies out there who read random travel blogs by unknown novelists, don’t think I’m a nice guy just ’cause I wear a fanny pack. I might be obsequious, but I assure you, when provoked, I can be very dangerous, ma’ams.
13 comments:
From the British version of The Office:
Keith: Going on holiday, then?
Dawn: Possibly, yeah.
Keith: Where?
Dawn: Um, the States.
Keith: The United States?
Dawn: Uh ... yeah.
Keith: Word of advice ... keep your traveler's cheques in a bum bag.
Dawn: Right. Thanks. I'll ... I'll buy one.
Keith: What, when you get there?
Dawn: Yeah.
Keith: (shakes his head) Word of warning, then. Out there they call them "fanny packs." 'Cause "fanny" means your arse over there. (Pause) Not your minge.
Words to live by.
I thought you were kidding about the fanny pack at the beginning of the blog...guess not, huh?
Can you do me a favor and post a picture of you wearing it? I would love it...
My blog entry on May 25 features a shot of me in the fanny pack. I'd post another, but I don't want my inbox to get bogged down with marriage proposals.
If you're on Facebook I think I have a bunch more photos that feature the fanny pack.
its no ordinary fanny pack
I think you look rather dashing with facial hair. How long do you intend to let it grow? Do you think people interact with you differently because of it?
best blog entry yet!! i'm sooo glad that animal wasn't a gator. also, i'd have to agree with the last comment and say that is one spicy red beard. xo
Thank you for the compliments. And I will address how people treat me differently because of the beard in an upcoming blog. Hopefully y'all can contain yourself until then.
And I think I might let it grow for the remainder of the trip. But we'll see. I really don't want to throw off the continuity of my awesome youtube broadcasts.
Daniel,
I am from Georgia and I know all of the places you talked about. I spent many times in downtown Atlanta. True southerners are a different breed. They are laid back and interesting. The gentleman you spoke with probably thought you really were eating a gourment meal. He probably was used to beans, cornbread and greens. You made homesick for Georgia.
I am very proud of you for working with the challenged. You might be interested in my first book titled Stan's Story, A Touch of Love. It is the true story of my brother who was born in 1952 when he was nine months old he contracted encephilitias. He became both physically and mentally challenged. This was during a time when failure was the only option. His book is his success story.
I am very glad you chose the challenged as your profession. They are all full of good life lessons.
Thank you!!!
Yvonne Mason, Author
Stan's Story, A Touch of Love
Tangled Minds
soon to be released Brilliant Insanity and Silent Scream
I don't know who these floridians are complaining that its hot now, august and september brings the pain. the national seashore parks are the best place to camp along the panhandle. also southern baptisits is all i can say about the churches. looking forward to your talk here in new orleans momentarily.
Yvonne, why don't you e-mail me your stuff (publisher@otppub.com). And Dear Prudence where were you?
when you starting driving South, was your van covered in love bugs?
I don't know what that means, Julie.
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