Trout’s en route

He’s on the road, in Arkansas currently. He says: never go to Arkansas, they have more mosquitos than the Great Dismal Swamp.

He’s looking for a place to crash when he gets here, at least temporarily. As he says, he doesn’t need a restroom or a kitchen, more of a dry spot. I guess his real problem is the dog. If anyone knows of a dog-friendly motel around here that’d be great to know. He said he has enough cash to float for awhile until he finds a real place, anyway. But if you hear of any weird night watchman/sleeping bag living situations, drop ’em my way.

His own cellphone is dying but I have the phone of the guy who’s driving him.


I’d love to see people, do things, get out of the house, etc. And I may! But if anyone wants to hang out, you’re driving. My two modes right now are It Hurts To Drive and I Am High On Drugs, and I don’t relish either.

I can walk just fine, though. Maybe I’ll walk down to 17th. Must take the right route, because “Aqua Man” lives around the corner from me now. In the same trailer park as Pirate Phil. Whoof.

Lost in a one story town
Where everything’s close to the ground
Yeah the same shit goes down
Nothing comes around
It’s a one, story. town.

Return of the trout

I talked to Bob on the phone today. He’s moving back here. The cultural challenges of the South were too much for him. He’s currently trying to get his crap into a trailer and get out and back to Paradise.

The quote of the conversation occurred while he was explaining that he only got along with the black folk in North Carolina because the white people were so horrible. Once in a while they’d let slip something about “white guys” and then rush to reassure him that they thought he was an okay guy. As he said, “I guess I’m just as black as Bill Clinton.”

So, we’ll see him when he manages to get loose.

joyfulagitator I think he either lost or screwed up your phone number somehow.