Journal: March 14th - 19th, 1997

I just took a good goddamn shower and shave, and now I'm off to head south with a bearded man. It's beautiful trip weather outside, but that can always change.

It's good to do this. I avoid routines, but college by its very nature has a well-defined structure. It's a scheduling thing. To get in a car and to drive in a cardinal direction is an aching that I have had this winter.

It would be more interesting if I has some puzzle to unravel in my head, and the Kerouacian mystique of the question, the journey without destination, would rise up and teach me all about that biggest of enigmas, Life, etc., etc. -- but I don't. Everything is in order in this house. I just need to go south.

I couldn't remember whether I liked the train or not; I've decided that I do. There's something in the slow, deliberate movement which comforts me, but I miss the amazing exhilaration of flying. I guess it's a 20th vs. 19th century thing.

What a hassle in the train station! I'm amazed with the patience that humans can display. It's all this social friction which keeps us quiet, I think.

It's still beautiful, although New Jersey isn't.