Sunday, March 21, 2010

The Marathon Walk



A Walk To The Marathon


I walked to the Marathon last night, thinking that I would take the bus back, weather or not I had made any money. I stopped and retrieved the cigarettes from where I had buried them, not far from a pond like the one to the right. I can't be more specific, because I don't want anyone finding the Marlboros.
A stop at the Marathon revealed another employee behind the counter. A female foreigner. She told me that she couldn't allow me to sit outside and play, without consulting the foreigner who runs the place.


I sat with some homeless types, who let slip the corner where they fly their signs. Very soon, they will go to the corner to fly their signs and there will be a guy there, jamming on a guitar and having made more money than they would have, in the same period.


I went to Wal-Mart and bought some food. I wanted to have fish and vegetables. I got tin foil and some Ocean Perch. I started to plan upon where I would cook it. The spot deeper in the woods, where the park bench is, came to mind. I just missed the bus by a couple of minutes, I was informed by a smirking young man, as I stepped out of Wal-Mart. How miserable must his life be to find his pleasure in informing people that they had just missed the last bus into town, with a smirk on his punk face?




I walked the three miles back to camp, stopping near the end of the walk, to drink beer with a guy who I ran into in front of the golf course, and who played the guitar. He was offering the beer. We sat just off of the fairway, next to a sand trap and enjoyed each other's company for about an hour. I stopped at the Kangaroo in order to grab "condiments" to go with the fish.

I got back and built a suitable fire and cooked the fish, along with a baked potato, etc. It was a good meal, and I layed down and didn't wake up until I heard the raindrops on the tent.


It Rained

It rained from before sunup until almost 2 in the afternoon. I would have been very wet, yet, the tent performed like the $160 tent which it was purported to be by the guy who gave it to me in front of the Big-Lots in Mandarin. Now, there is not much to do, except go to the mission for the first time, eat for free, and then plan upon how I will stay out of jail for 8 more days, until John leaves for Jacksonville. It will take a miracle to keep me in Ocala.

Hope Is Alive That Karrie Got My Second Letter

I am thinking that the letter, which was returned to my mom, based upon the postdate, was the first one, sent to Duval County. It had no money in it, but a note explaining that I wasn't sending money becoause they would confiscate it when she got to St. John's. I'm sure that it was, because I didn't take the bus here until the 10th, and the letter was post-marked the 10th.



Maybe Karrie has her honey buns, yet.

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