Music City

I heard about Jeff Poppen's farm from my buddy Chris who I met in New Orleans. He had just returned home from being at Jeff's for four months. He told me there were a lot of musicians there and the best veggies I'd ever eat. Oh, and not to mention the scenery and culture of Tennessee. It remained in the back of my mind throughout this trip until I arrived in Asheville the second time, where I finally decided I give Jeff a call and see if I could come up and see it for myself.

I packed my things once more and set out on that dusty road, first on an onramp to get me out of town. As soon as I got there I saw an old man with the same plan. His name was Bob and he told me he was four days clean of heroin and that he was a professional panhandler. We chatted for a bit until I turned away for a minute. When I looked back, Bob was hopping over the fence to go under the overpass. Ten minutes later a nice older lady pulled over and gave me a short ride to the I-40W which leads all the way to Nashville. She dropped me off at a nearby onramp and I threw my thumb up and flashed my smile for another 20 minutes until a pair of local guys, in their twenties, stopped for me up in a beat up ford pickup. "Where you headin'?" "Nashville." "We are on our way to Cherokee. We can take you about 30 miles." "Okay. Thanks!" I hopped in and was off again. They took me out of their way about twenty minutes to a rest stop. As I was steppin' out of the truck they passed fortune to me in the form of a few nuggs of green. I thanked them kindly and they were off to enjoy the rest of their Sunday.

It only took me about five minutes to find a ride from the rest stop. An older couple was walking their three small dogs and one of the dogs came up to me. From that conversation started and I was off again. They said they could take me about an hour or so on the 40 to just outside of Knoxville, before the 75-S begins taking them to Chattanooga. It was a pleasant ride. They put on this some music they liked which they thought I would like. I told them I did. They dropped me off at a Flying J rest stop and the lady gave me a twenty and told me to enjoy myself some dinner.

After I ate, I walked to the onramp and waited patiently. Twenty five minutes later a volkswagon bug gets off the offramp and continues straight to the onramp. Passes me and begins to slow and move over. My excitement lasts but a second, as I see two girls exit the car with backpacks and a cardboard sign of their own. I'm feeling pretty screwed here since any logical driver would pick up two girls instead of a tall bearded fellow, as myself. One of them comes over and apologizes for the circumstances. We make a deal that whoever gets the ride will try to extend it to the left out party. Twenty more minutes. Finally a young guy pulls over and says he can take me most of the way. I ask if he has room for the two girls as we pass and he says yeah. We get comfortable and introduce ourselves. Matt says he lives about 40 miles south of Nashville but that he'll take me the whole way! The girls' names are Veronica and Sara Brown and they are traveling from Asheville. The ride was great with good conversation. We dropped the girls off and continued to Nashville. I had a one night reservation at the hostel there so Matt drove me right there, I checked in, and we proceeded to Lower Broad(way) for some drinks and music.

I had heard of this place called Robert's from a friend I had met in Asheville. The music was loud, the bartenders friendly, and the drinks cheap. My kinda place. We drank and talked about the women of our lives. About our past mistakes, future plans. He dropped be off at the hostel and I went to sleep feeling pretty damn pleased with the day. Tomorrow to the farm!

I woke early and walked to meet up with Allen, the guy who runs the Long Hungry Farm's CSA (communtiy supported agriculture). He drove me to pick up some blueberries and then to the CSA pickup spot. Up pulls Mark, the farm supervisor. I'll get into him on the next post. But he turns out to be such a funny and cool dude. I help him unload all the veggies from Jeff's farm and we leave to go get some tomatoes from another farm outside of town. We get there and meet Eric, a young guy who is running the farm. He immediately rolls us a joint and we pick up guitars and play a bit. I'm beginning to like Mark by this point. We load up the new bushels(wooden baskets), and the tomatoes and we are on our way back to the CSA site. We run into traffic and arrive late. I meet two of the interns there, Riley and Chris. Young men, 20 and 21 years old, both happy and lovin the farm life. We leave and get back to Jeff's farm far after dark. I spent my first night on the farm in a old post office that Jeff has moved to his property.

I shared it with an older man working on the farm named Gary and Blacky, a feral dog that hangs out on the farm and will not leave. He is the farm dog now and he looks so unique.. like a cartoon; big head and paws, short legs. Watching him through my days on this farm was a treat. He looks so happy running through the foxtail grass.

Goodbye Asheville

He comes of age
In a world that is unknown
Save for her,
Young maiden from the East
Yet not the coast.
Never ventured past the parish line,
But the sun, it now shines.
The sun, it now shines.

Yet the creek runs dry.
He couldn't wait for her there.
In the shadowy mist,
The white thief could not fail.
The crown of gold,
Fit for lovers of old.
For lovers of old.

A red dawn howls.
The shattered moon cries in defeat.
He has returned to find
Only the ghost of her past life.
Shedding her skin,
She now travels with the wind.
She travels with the wind.

A dark thunderhead
In the rear window, stalking.
He must move on.
She didn't wait for him there.
A missive unsent
Would their paths cross again?
Would their eyes meet again?
Would their hands touch again?

Back down South

I got a ride outa Columbus with an old man, named Warren. His nephews and nieces call him "Crazy Uncle Warren". He was a nice guy and he loved Jesus. In the middle of the ride the muffler of his car fell off and we had to pull over in the rain. I was happy to fix it for him but we were late getting to our destination. Originally he was going to drop me off outside of Johnson City, Tennessee, but instead he took me to where he was going; a farm outside of Greeneville, TN. His nephew, Aaron, was there building a structure out of Rammed Earth.



A young couple was there as well, Rachel and Ryan. We got there at night so I didn't see just how majestic the landscape was until I woke up the next morning and took these pictures.











They had sheep, chickens, roosters, cattle, and they grew their own food. They fed us delicious food that night and we played foosball, strummed guitars, drank moonshine, and passed out late. Warren and Aaron drove me into Asheville the next day and here I am.

It's my 29th birthday today yet I'm in a city where I really know no one and no one knows me. I am working a few hours a day at this hostel so I can stay here for free. I am really missing my family and friends back home. This trip has been more than I expected but I don't know when to call it quits and travel back west. I have a two month internship waiting for me at a farm outside of Nashville starting in September. After that I plan on going back down to New Orleans for Halloween and then catchin' a ride back to the Bay with Shilo sometime in mid November. That's the plan as it stands currently.

New York, Boston, and Maine

Our best mistakes
A ripe balloon
They'll hoover down
To the Earth soon.

Our best laid plans
Fall like grenades
To where all our
Games were played.

Rain laid waste
To angel's spots
Flutter down like
Heaven's drops.

A flag waves high
In the foggy sky
Where spiders go to
Mourn and die.

The chiming bell
Cuts through the air
Lets us know
There are others near.

Albino Crocodile
Will we ever see you smile?


I'm in Boston now and have been for a week. Stayed a night in Queens, New York, then took a bus here. I was greeted by Nate a friend my good buddy Sean. It just so happens that they have an extra room at their place for the month of July. It also just so happens that Nate has planned his annual weekend holiday to his family's beach house near Rockland, Maine to coincidentally coincide with my unexpected visit. Before I went to relax on the Atlantic, I need to take care of some business in Boston.

Many of you know the reason I came to Boston. But for those who do not, my very first friend who I haven't seen in four years contacted me from prison asking me to take care of his possessions in his apartment in Wakefield, MA. After his arrest, my friend, Gary, was placed in Bridgewater State Hospital, about forty miles south of Boston. Nate came with me. We rented a car and arrived to a scene I had never seen before, save movies. A huge prison facility with inmates in the yard separated from me by enough razor wire to stop a herd of elephants. When we finally found the hospital, I took a picture of the entrance only to be approached within seconds by two guards telling me I had to delete the photo. They also told us we couldn't go in because of a strict dress code I had failed realize. Luckily we had brought a pair of non-denim pants for Gary to wear to court. With those and the clothes we had on us, we were able to throw together one combination of clothes that would permit us entry. In the car I took a picture reflected from the rear view mirror. You can see the razor wire I speak of..



I walked in, filled out necessary paper work and got my place in line. Now the guards at this place are their own sort. Cold, expressionless, procedural. After looking over my paperwork and "randomly" checking my record, they inform me that Gary is walking out the back door as we speak. He is being discharged to another prison the exact moment I had walked in the front door to see him. Now just think about that for a second. I hadn't had any time schedule to get there. It had taken me over two weeks of traveling with no car and very little money to arrive at this place at that specific moment. Gary had not had any other visitors in his two month stay. The sergeant listens to my story and tells me he'll find out where Gary is being moved to. He tells me and I leave. It was interesting to see the guards let down their own guards once they heard what happened. It was almost as if they wanted to help me. Sitting in the waiting area, I heard the sergeant say to the other officers, "This guy out there has traveled from California to see Gary Black, and the moment he walks in the front door, Gary is walking out the back door. I have never seen anything like this before." He gave me Gary's keys to his apartment and we left.

His apartment was small, cluttered with furniture he had found on the street. The smell was musty and there was moldy bread on the table. He had given me a 6 page long letter detailing what he wanted me to do, so Nate and I meticulously got to work. I talked to landlord and settled everything with him. He was nice old man who was concerned with Gary predicament, but didn't want Gary to return. After an hour, we were done and went back to Boston.

I went to see Gary a few days later at the prison the sergeant told me about. When I got there they again informed me he was not there but at a different jail in downtown Boston. I would have to wait for the weekend to pass before seeing him.

We left for Maine early Friday the seventeenth of July. This place was unlike any other I had been to. A small quaint beach cottage on the Atlantic coast. The cottage was one of the first structures in the area so it has the best location, right on the only small and private beach in the area. It was cloudy when we got there.







I spent time with people who didn't know me. Beautiful people. We drank, we joked, we played lawn games, and we smoked. Friends of friends of friends. Now my good friends.





Sunday, I went out on a canoe(appropriately named the Big Banana)with one of my new friends, Michael. Our goal was to reach an island out in the distance. You can see it in the above picture. The waves started up as we got closer, and when we were almost there the Big Banana capsized and we found ourselves in the cold waters of the Atlantic. I didn't have a life preserver on but Michael did. We decided to leave the Big Banana and swim with the current back to the nearest island a half a mile away. We reached the island just as a dingy sped by looking for us. He came to the island and another boat picked up the Big Banana and our oars and took them back to shore. Michael and I got a ride back on the dingy to the station. The old man looked as if he had dusted off his faded fire resue t-shirt as soon as he got the call. He was nice and insisted that we come back with him to the station on the shore and "get checked out". When we arrive there are about fifteen fire/rescue workers and an ambulance waiting for us. Not to mention all the tourists eating their hotdogs. So now thats two times I've been in an ambulance in the last month. I guess that's what happens when you go extreme. I did get a souvenir blanket out of the ordeal.

I'm back in Boston now and planning on leaving soon to go visit my good friend Shilo in Columbus Ohio. Boston is a nice city though. I took these pictures at the top of the Prudential Building, the tallest building in the city.

Asheville in Four Days

I heard about Asheville for the first time two months ago from my buddy who I get reefers from. He used to live there and was telling me I should check it out if I was thinking of going to the South for the Summer. What really got my attention was when he mentioned that it was firefly season. I had never seen fireflies yet I had written a song called firefly. So basically I came here to see a firefly. But I ended up seeing much more. The great thing about Asheville is that it is in the middle of the Appalachian Mountains. Its the home to many talented musicians. Ol'timey music, bluegrass, and a budding indie scene dominate the nightlife here at local pubs that serve locals brews. The community here is very open, and hospitable to travelers. My first night in town I was dropped off downtown and found my way to an open mic where I figured I would meet some people and they would put me up for a night of two. Unfortunately I came to early and I ended up trading songs with one of the most established local songwriters in the area, Pierce Eden(www.myspace.com/pierceeden1). After I played the place started filling up, but I was beat. I walked a few miles to the cemetery and found a place out of sight to camp. I saw my fireflies that night.



I woke up early the next morning to the sight of grey cloud swiftly movin' in. I packed up my stuff and headed back into downtown where I took cover and waited out the rain. It was at this point when it really hit me. "I'm out here all alone. I don't know anyone. And I have no where to go. What am I doing?" I went to the library and found the nearest hostel(www.bonpaulandsharkys.com)online. When I got there the sun just broke through the clouds. Thirteen dollars a night and I can camp outside the hostel. They have a hot tub too! Did another open mic, met people, met a gorgious hippie girl named Rose who lived at the hostel for three months and has decided she now wants to be a voga teacher.



The next day I woke up early and rode with my new friend Mike on the Blueridge Parkway(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blue_Ridge_Parkway) for about fifty miles. We went to the highest peak east of the Mississippi, Mount Mitchell. We couldn't see anything because it was cloudy so we left and hiked to a waterfall.







Yesterday I ate mushrooms in the cemetary. I found three generations of Augustusi buried at the top of a hill. The cemetary was so serene and peaceful. The best trip I have been on. I walked back into town and found the weekly drum circle where I met another traveler named Christian. We ended up hanging out at the rest of the night trading stories and songs over cigarettes and PBR.



Thomas Wolfe's grave










I'm leaving tonight for NY and will be there for a few days. Then off to Boston then Columbus, and possibly back here to Asheville for a few weeks. I got a job at the hostel in August.



The city of Asheville is paying artists to paint these murals under the freeway overpass.

First Week of Freedom

Oh people go and others come.
One less friend to lean on.
This burning heat has got me beat
With no place to call my home.
My grandma called me today.
"Be careful", she spoke.
I just rolled into the By-water
Tired, thirsty, and broke.

I think I'll stay in New Orleans
For at least another week.
This story I'm writing
Is being laid down at your feet.
My brother called me today.
He's throwin' prayers up for me.
Some might catch an ear or two.
The rest lost in the sea.

So I'll turn the page and start a verse.
One I've never heard.
Except in dreams, you were there
Singin' every last word.
Next stop might be Asheville,
North Caroline.
When you don't know what your looking for.
You never know just what you'll find.


The Xanadu Clubhouse and my home for six days.




I watched the fireworks over the downtown skyline while sitting on top of this train.




My first haircut in over a year. The beard is staying though.


New Orleans potluck




Jeremy, Katie, and Joe, my traveling buddies from the East Bay. We parted after a week.