Sitting outside the Lost Socks Laundromat in Jackson Hole Wyoming. Keep wanting to write but I’m always filled up on caffeine and nicotine. The tine’s make it hard for me to write, to many thoughts jump-in around. It probably really doesn’t make that big a difference, it’s just letters and words, what you get from it is out of my control. Plus I’m nice and awake. Would you believe God’s still been good to me with all my drinking and smoking ways. I do.
Wyoming has become my favorite state next to Oregon, maybe South Carolina takes third. I’ve discovered my love of live blue grass music, and the stompin that goes along with it.
My sister emails me, trying to get Nora and I to swing by Oregon before I make it down to New Mexico. I’ve been off and on all day wether I should make the Z a WY-OR-NM-CA kind of Z or a WY-NM-OR-CA kinda Z. Look on a map you’ll see what I mean. The second of the two is probably the longer, but I’ve been planning on the second for so long now it just seems to make sense, cause of the rockies and all. But my lack of vehicle registration and actual drivers license makes the first Z sound legally more logical. But there’s always the legalities and then there’s the freedom of the summertime rockies. I just knocked on the piece of wood holding up the back door of the van. I thinks it’s going to be Z deuce.
Reading this post is going to be a bit like trying to dicifer the old testament. Anyways I’m off to fold, or probably bag some clothes, and tuck up under the Tetons.

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