Check it out for that is where I shall continue to keep updating as I travel.

1

AFOOT and light-hearted I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.

Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune,
Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,
Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms,
Strong and content I travel the open road.

The earth, that is sufficient,
I do not want the constellations any nearer,
I know they are very well where they are,
I know they suffice for those who belong to them.

(Still here I carry my old delicious burdens,
I carry them, men and women, I carry them with me wherever
I go,
I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them,
I am fill’d with them, and I will fill them in return.)

2

You road I enter upon and look around, I believe you are not all
that is here,
I believe that much unseen is also here.

Here the profound lesson of reception, nor preference nor denial,
The black with his woolly head, the felon, the diseas’d, the
illiterate person, are not denied;
The birth, the hasting after the physician, the beggar’s tramp, the
drunkard’s stagger, the laughing party of mechanics,
The escaped youth, the rich person’s carriage, the fop, the eloping
couple,
The early market-man, the hearse, the moving of furniture into the
town, the return back from the town,
They pass, I also pass, any thing passes, none can be interdicted,
None but are accepted, none but shall be dear to me.

3

You air that serves me with breath to speak!
You objects that call from diffusion my meanings and give them
shape!
You light that wraps me and all things in delicate equable showers!
You paths worn in the irregular hollows by the roadsides!
I believe you are latent with unseen existences, you are so dear to
me.

You flagg’d walks of the cities! you strong curbs at the edges!
You ferries! you planks and posts of wharves! you timber-lined
side! you distant ships!
You rows of houses! you window-pierc’d facades! you roofs!
You porches and entrances! you copings and iron guards!
You windows whose transparent shells might expose so much!
You doors and ascending steps! you arches!
You gray stones of interminable pavements! you trodden crossings!
From all that has touch’d you I believe you have imparted to
yourselves, and now would impart the same secretly to me,
From the living and the dead you have peopled your impassive
surfaces, and the spirits thereof would be evident and amicable
with me.

4

The earth expanding right hand and left hand,
The picture alive, every part in its best light,
The music falling in where it is wanted, and stopping where it is
not wanted,
The cheerful voice of the public road, the gay fresh sentiment of
the road.

O highway I travel, do you say to me Do not leave me?
Do you say Venture not-if you leave me you are lost?
Do you say I am already prepared, I am well-beaten and undenied,
adhere to me?

O public road, I say back I am not afraid to leave you, yet I love
you,
You express me better than I can express myself,
You shall be more to me than my poem.

I think heroic deeds were all conceiv’d in the open air, and all
free poems also,
I think I could stop here myself and do miracles,
I think whatever I shall meet on the road I shall like, and whoever
beholds me shall like me,
I think whoever I see must be happy.

5

From this hour I ordain myself loos’d of limits and imaginary lines,
Going where I list, my own master total and absolute,
Listening to others, considering well what they say,
Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating,
Gently, but with undeniable will, divesting myself of the holds that
would hold me.

I inhale great draughts of space,
The east and the west are mine, and the north and the south are
mine.

I am larger, better than I thought,
I did not know I held so much goodness.

All seems beautiful to me,
can repeat over to men and women You have done such good to me
I would do the same to you,
I will recruit for myself and you as I go,
I will scatter myself among men and women as I go,
I will toss a new gladness and roughness among them,
Whoever denies me it shall not trouble me,
Whoever accepts me he or she shall be blessed and shall bless me.

6

Now if a thousand perfect men were to appear it would not amaze me,
Now if a thousand beautiful forms of women appear’d it would not
astonish me.

Now I see the secret of the making of the best persons,
It is to grow in the open air and to eat and sleep with the earth.

Here a great personal deed has room,
(Such a deed seizes upon the hearts of the whole race of men,
Its effusion of strength and will overwhelms law and mocks all
authority and all argument against it.)

Here is the test of wisdom,
Wisdom is not finally tested in schools,
Wisdom cannot be pass’d from one having it to another not having it,
Wisdom is of the soul, is not susceptible of proof, is its own
proof,
Applies to all stages and objects and qualities and is content,
Is the certainty of the reality and immortality of things, and the
excellence of things;
Something there is in the float of the sight of things that provokes
it out of the soul.

Now I re-examine philosophies and religions,
They may prove well in lecture-rooms, yet not prove at all under the
spacious clouds and along the landscape and flowing currents.

Here is realization,
Here is a man tallied-he realizes here what he has in him,
The past, the future, majesty, love-if they are vacant of you, you
are vacant of them.

Only the kernel of every object nourishes;
Where is he who tears off the husks for you and me?
Where is he that undoes stratagems and envelopes for you and me?

Here is adhesiveness, it is not previously fashion’d, it is apropos;
Do you know what it is as you pass to be loved by strangers?
Do you know the talk of those turning eye-balls?

7

Here is the efflux of the soul,
The efflux of the soul comes from within through embower’d gates,
ever provoking questions,
These yearnings why are they? these thoughts in the darkness why are
they?
Why are there men and women that while they are nigh me the sunlight
expands my blood?
Why when they leave me do my pennants of joy sink flat and lank?
Why are there trees I never walk under but large and melodious
thoughts descend upon me?
(I think they hang there winter and summer on those trees and always
drop fruit as I pass;)
What is it I interchange so suddenly with strangers?
What with some driver as I ride on the seat by his side?
What with some fisherman drawing his seine by the shore as I walk by
and pause?
What gives me to be free to a woman’s and man’s good-will? what
gives them to be free to mine?

8

The efflux of the soul is happiness, here is happiness,
I think it pervades the open air, waiting at all times,
Now it flows unto us, we are rightly charged.

Here rises the fluid and attaching character,
The fluid and attaching character is the freshness and sweetness of
man and woman,
(The herbs of the morning sprout no fresher and sweeter every day
out of the roots of themselves, than it sprouts fresh and sweet
continually out of itself.)

Toward the fluid and attaching character exudes the sweat of the
love of young and old,
From it falls distill’d the charm that mocks beauty and attainments,
Toward it heaves the shuddering longing ache of contact.

9

Allons! whoever you are come travel with me!
Traveling with me you find what never tires.

The earth never tires,
The earth is rude, silent, incomprehensible at first, Nature is rude
and incomprehensible at first,
Be not discouraged, keep on, there are divine things well envelop’d,
I swear to you there are divine things more beautiful than words can
tell.

Allons! we must not stop here,
However sweet these laid-up stores, however convenient this dwelling
we cannot remain here,
However shelter’d this port and however calm these waters we must
not anchor here,
However welcome the hospitality that surrounds us we are permitted
to receive it but a little while.

10

Allons! the inducements shall be greater,
We will sail pathless and wild seas,
We will go where winds blow, waves dash, and the Yankee clipper
speeds by under full sail.

Allons! with power, liberty, the earth, the elements,
Health, defiance, gayety, self-esteem, curiosity;
Allons! from all formules!
From your formules, O bat-eyed and materialistic priests.

The stale cadaver blocks up the passage-the burial waits no longer.

Allons! yet take warning!
He traveling with me needs the best blood, thews, endurance,
None may come to the trial till he or she bring courage and health,
Come not here if you have already spent the best of yourself,
Only those may come who come in sweet and determin’d bodies,
No diseas’d person, no rum-drinker or venereal taint is permitted
here.

(I and mine do not convince by arguments, similes, rhymes,
We convince by our presence.)

11

Listen! I will be honest with you,
I do not offer the old smooth prizes, but offer rough new prizes,
These are the days that must happen to you:
You shall not heap up what is call’d riches,
You shall scatter with lavish hand all that you earn or achieve,
You but arrive at the city to which you were destin’d, you hardly
settle yourself to satisfaction before you are call’d by an
irresistible call to depart,
You shall be treated to the ironical smiles and mockings of those
who remain behind you,
What beckonings of love you receive you shall only answer with
passionate kisses of parting,
You shall not allow the hold of those who spread their reach’d hands
toward you.

12

Allons! after the great Companions, and to belong to them!
They too are on the road – they are the swift and majestic men – they
are the greatest women,
Enjoyers of calms of seas and storms of seas,
Sailors of many a ship, walkers of many a mile of land,
Habitues of many distant countries, habitues of far-distant
dwellings,
Trusters of men and women, observers of cities, solitary toilers,
Pausers and contemplators of tufts, blossoms, shells of the shore,
Dancers at wedding-dances, kissers of brides, tender helpers of
children, bearers of children,
Soldiers of revolts, standers by gaping graves, lowerers-down of
coffins,
Journeyers over consecutive seasons, over the years, the curious
years each emerging from that which preceded it,
Journeyers as with companions, namely their own diverse phases,
Forth-steppers from the latent unrealized baby-days,
Journeyers gayly with their own youth, journeyers with their bearded
and well-grain’d manhood,
Journeyers with their womanhood, ample, unsurpass’d, content,
Journeyers with their own sublime old age of manhood or womanhood,
Old age, calm, expanded, broad with the haughty breadth of the
universe,
Old age, flowing free with the delicious near-by freedom of death.

13

Allons! to that which is endless as it was beginningless,
To undergo much, tramps of days, rests of nights,
To merge all in the travel they tend to, and the days and nights
they tend to,
Again to merge them in the start of superior journeys,
To see nothing anywhere but what you may reach it and pass it,
To conceive no time, however distant, but what you may reach it and
pass it,
To look up or down no road but it stretches and waits for you,
however long but it stretches and waits for you,
To see no being, not God’s or any, but you also go thither,
To see no possession but you may possess it, enjoying all without
labor or purchase, abstracting the feast yet not abstracting one
particle of it,
To take the best of the farmer’s farm and the rich man’s elegant
villa, and the chaste blessings of the well-married couple, and
the fruits of orchards and flowers of gardens,
To take to your use out of the compact cities as you pass through,
To carry buildings and streets with you afterward wherever you go,
To gather the minds of men out of their brains as you encounter
them, to gather the love out of their hearts,
To take your lovers on the road with you, for all that you leave
them behind you,
To know the universe itself as a road, as many roads, as roads for
traveling souls.

All parts away for the progress of souls,
All religion, all solid things, arts, governments-all that was or is
apparent upon this globe or any globe, falls into niches and
corners before the procession of souls along the grand roads
of the universe.

Of the progress of the souls of men and women along the grand roads
of the universe, all other progress is the needed emblem and
sustenance.

Forever alive, forever forward,
Stately, solemn, sad, withdrawn, baffled, mad, turbulent, feeble,
dissatisfied,
Desperate, proud, fond, sick, accepted by men, rejected by men,
They go! they go! I know that they go, but I know not where they go,
But I know that they go toward the best – toward something great.

Whoever you are, come forth! or man or woman come forth!
You must not stay sleeping and dallying there in the house, though
you built it, or though it has been built for you.

Out of the dark confinement! out from behind the screen!
It is useless to protest, I know all and expose it.

Behold through you as bad as the rest,
Through the laughter, dancing, dining, supping, of people,
Inside of dresses and ornaments, inside of those wash’d and trimm’d
faces,
Behold a secret silent loathing and despair.

No husband, no wife, no friend, trusted to hear the confession,
Another self, a duplicate of every one, skulking and hiding it goes,
Formless and wordless through the streets of the cities, polite and
bland in the parlors,
In the cars of railroads, in steamboats, in the public assembly,
Home to the houses of men and women, at the table, in the bedroom,
everywhere,
Smartly attired, countenance smiling, form upright, death under the
breast-bones, hell under the skull-bones,
Under the broadcloth and gloves, under the ribbons and artificial
flowers,
Keeping fair with the customs, speaking not a syllable of itself,
Speaking of any thing else but never of itself.

14

Allons! through struggles and wars!
The goal that was named cannot be countermanded.

Have the past struggles succeeded?
What has succeeded? yourself? your nation? Nature?
Now understand me well – it is provided in the essence of things that
from any fruition of success, no matter what, shall come forth
something to make a greater struggle necessary.

My call is the call of battle, I nourish active rebellion,
He going with me must go well arm’d,
He going with me goes often with spare diet, poverty, angry enemies,
desertions.

15

Allons! the road is before us!
It is safe – I have tried it – my own feet have tried it well – be not
detain’d!
Let the paper remain on the desk unwritten, and the book on the
shelf unopen’d!
Let the tools remain in the workshop! let the money remain unearn’d!
Let the school stand! mind not the cry of the teacher!
Let the preacher preach in his pulpit! let the lawyer plead in the
court, and the judge expound the law.

Camerado, I give you my hand!
I give you my love more precious than money,
I give you myself before preaching or law;
Will you give me yourselp. will you come travel with me?
Shall we stick by each other as long as we live?

It started at 2pm yesterday, I PackageExpressed some excess clothing back to Maine, and boarded the bus (again the last person on).  PackageExpress is probably one of the cheapest ways to ship boxes and baggage long distances.

We traveled into Alabama and stopped in Birmingham  for an hour.  I posted a brief update from Java & Jams, a cafe I found via Yelp, where I sat down for a coffee and some wifi.

Alabama was far more Apalachian than I had imagined it would be, full of scraggy conifers and rugged albeit not massive hills.  I thoroughly enjoyed the scenery from my window and will definitely make a point to travel back through Alabama in the future.

As we departed night settled down and I kicked back to finish Vagabonding, scribbling notes in Moleskin for SlackerReform.

We rode through Mississippi, a state I’ve only ever spelled out loud for the entertainment in that process, with an hour stopover around 9:30 central time.  I grabbed a chicken sandwich from the Union Station cafe in Jackson, MS.  The woman behind the counter inquired about my washboard and we chatted a moment about music which I think landed me a free batch of fries.

Once back on the road I settled in for the night with The Weepies strumming me to sleep.  I recently discovered The Weepies while flipping through artists on AllMusic and I have two of their albums, Say I Am You, which is my favorite and Hideaway.  Lovely little duo of musicians from California playing a mellow but entrancing pop-folk style.

I woke up about 6am CT as we drove in to Dallas.  Perfect timing as the sun climbed up across the vast openness of Texas (it’s amazing really).

We pulled into Dallas late, I unloaded, grabbed my checked bag and stepped on to the Austin bus.  I had slept fitfully overnight yet, like a cat, put me in a patch of warm sun and I’m out.

I woke around 9am and watched the flatness roll by.  In the ways of geography and ecology Texas is strange yet when you add the clutter of big box stores, Starbucks, McDonalds and all the rest of our consumer life it isn’t that far off from the drive I would get through New Hampshire.

The greatest relief of the trip: stepping off the bus at 10:20am into 65° F weather.

Walking in I already liked the place.  It’s a narrow cafe with seating along the sides and counter at the end.  Three folks were sitting talking about country music guitars in laps near the counter – one turned out to be the server.  I ordered a cup of coffee and sat down for a moment of plugged in time.

They played an old country tune entitled, “Long Haired Country Boy” originally by Charlie Daniels, and I caught up on an e-mail or two.  Now, back to the bus for the next leg of my journey.

Jon picked me back up and we headed over to Golden Roast, a cafe we’d frequented near the University of Tennessee campus, for a quick sit and coffee.  My bus was at 6pm and I had two hours to kill – the internet did that quickly – and it is when I decided to start this travelogue.

My bus was approximately 40 minutes late in departing although I had the opportunity to chat with a guitarist from Chattanooga about bluegrass and Americana music.  I ended up in Atlanta about 11pm.

Backing up.

I had spent five days in Knoxville visiting, relaxing and mostly enjoying coffee either in Jon’s living room or in a cafe (this sort of helps justify part of my title).

Notable events throughout the week:

Watching Gran Torino at the Regal Riviera thanks to the movie friend (aforementioned) for free.  Clint Eastwood is one scary old dog in this film.  Sorry if I spoil anything.  He plays a Korean War veteran whose wife has just passed away.  Living in an old neighborhood that has become a Hmong ghetto he’s all by himself (not including his golden lab).  When a gang causes trouble that spills on to his lawn he scares the offenders away with the perpetual snarl and his rifle.  He becomes an inadvertant hero of the neighborhood.  I’ll leave the rest for you to see but it was an exceptional movie with an unexpected ending and only one short overacted scene (not by Eastwood) that I would cut out.

Sassy Ann’s is a whorehouse turned club frequented by mostly twenty-somethings out for a PBR and some poorly DJed 80s music (at least on the nights I was there).  While the atmosphere is stellar, I mean how can an old whorehouse not be an entertaining club venue full of stairways, nooks, little rooms and that old western nostalgia, the DJ pained me in his transitions even if the songs were good.  The smoke, 20-something college inebriants, cheap beer and sticky floor I can deal with.  I just don’t get how 80s rock makes you want to dance in any other fashion than bouncing up and down like a bobblehead on a washing machine.

Hugging the Sunsphere on behest of Kelly – she even got it posted to her Facebook wall.  While we had planned to go up and check it out there had been a sprinkler line that had broken and so the Sunsphere was raining.  Slight irony anyone?  Instead we cracked the ice in the small cement pool nearby with our feet enjoying the spidery veins and hollow metal sound it made.

Rocking out the drums two nights on Rock Band 2.  While I can’t say much for my musical talents I can proudly say I can handle the drum kit on medium after only two nights playing.  The drums just make sense to me even if it takes a second to fumble through the first pass of hits I can get the rhythm unlike my epic failure on a Rock Band guitar.  Maybe I should have played the drums in band rather than split reeds on a saxophone.

Battlestar Galactica premiered the first of the series Final Episodes on Friday at 10pm.  I have to say I wasn’t as excited to watch it as many other people I know but I can’t deny the siren call of a religious war and stellar drama all in one.  If you haven’t caught it yet you can watch it on Hulu.  It was definitely an excellent episode with enough turns to have me utter the words “What the fuck?” at least a couple times.

We stopped off in Dayton, TN at a Pilot truck stop where most of the passengers proceeded to buy food from McDonalds.  Thankfully I had packed a Trader Joe’s survival kit of trail mix, dried mango and chocolate covered espresso beans along with my trusty Thermos topped up with homemade coffee.  Being prepared saves me from fast food and my wallet from needless spending.

Jon picked me up at the bus station and we dropped my bags at his house and headed out for dinner at a local gastropub, The Crown and Goose.

We treated ourselves to a fine beer, mine was a “Caribbean” stout – smooth and easy to drink sans a coffee bitter, and our waiter was very knowledgeable and pleasant.  I chose the Shephard’s Pie which was slow-braised lamb in a red wine sauce baked with Yukon golden mash and topped with two lamb chops cooked to rare.  The chops dissolved as I ate them.  The pie was baked with a nice crisp skin to the mash while the insides were a refreshing change from the regular ground beef I’ve had in shephards pie in the past much more akin to pulled pork in its stringiness which falls apart.

Nearly bursting at the seams we managed to decide, or perhaps were happily convinced by our waiter, to order the bread pudding which replaced the typical raisin topping with dried cranberries soaked in whiskey.  Not my favorite bread pudding but delicious all the same.  We even managed to score a tasting of the Sticky Toffee Pudding thanks to again to our waiter slipping it past the chef.  The toffee pudding was deceiving, when you cut into it with your spoon it seemed dense yet upon delivery it melted away.  An excellent sample to round off our night.

Waiting for one of Jon’s friends to potentially get us into a movie, we dodged off to a local Borders to peruse their books i.e. read their magazines without paying and nabbed a coffee from the Seattle’s Best cafe.  After two magazines our coffees ran dry and with no word from the movie friend we headed back to Jon’s.

Curled up on the couch with You Don’t Mess with the Zohan on my laptop we called it a night.  As for Zohan, I would say watch the first three quarters then give up before the movie decides to resolve the hackneyed plot.

I affectionately refer to myself as a vagabond in preference to nomad, bum or hobo.

vag·a·bond (vg-bnd)

n.

1. A person without a permanent home who moves from place to place.
2. A vagrant; a tramp.
3. A wanderer; a rover.

adj.

1. Of, relating to, or characteristic of a wanderer; nomadic.
2. Aimless; drifting.
3. Irregular in course or behavior; unpredictable.

intr.v. vag·a·bond·ed, vag·a·bond·ing, vag·a·bonds

To lead the life of a vagabond; roam about.

---

[Middle English vagabonde, from Old French vagabond, from Late Latin vagbundus, wandering, from Latin vagr, to wander, from vagus, wandering.]