No Expectations

Executive Inn

Mike — Tue, 15 Dec 2009 11:24:18 +0000

Watching you watching me

Mike — Fri, 08 May 2009 11:54:35 +0000

Gangster Fabulous

Mike — Sat, 21 Mar 2009 00:28:14 +0000

First Days of School…

Mike — Wed, 04 Feb 2009 05:37:26 +0000

Budget cuts have hit the California State University system hard this year. Getting classes is proving near impossible for some students as demand has risen while course sections have been reduced. Frustration and confusing reigned supreme in the first week at San Francisco State…

A New Day in America

Mike — Wed, 21 Jan 2009 02:47:10 +0000

My household was a flurry of activity this morning; we rolled out of our beds and fired up the computers to stream the inaguration. It’s surreal to think that W is gone. Certainly there is already something to celebrate - science got numerous mentions today and even the “non-believers” were acknowledged. Now, we wait with baited breath and fingers starred, crossed, and crescented to see what happens.

Zack, a member of www.rollersoccer.com, was on Haight street in full patriotic regalia to mark the day.

Burning…

Mike — Sat, 17 Jan 2009 07:47:30 +0000

I’m getting tired now and burning up lots of country, chasing the sun into the Pacific.

But I’ll be back again, or so I tell myself.

Forest Hostel - Brunswick, Georgia

Mike — Wed, 14 Jan 2009 02:22:05 +0000

My last stop in the coastal south was a utopian outpost in the forest - part intentional community, part hostel. Guests are asked to help with chores and are required to keep personal technology hidden away in their private quarters. A hippie colony in Georgia I did not expect to find. It’s the typical custom of such places to blissfully isolate from the outside world and related problems, with participants all the while maintaining their global consciousness through organic food and yoga. Perhaps that’s a cynical view; to it’s credit the great folks at the hostel grow a lot of their own food, maintain a low footprint, and use humanure to grow flowers. It’s an easy place to get stuck in, especially for unsuspecting wanderer without a set schedule, and so at the first signs of comfort, I fled.

Jesus on the road…

Mike — Mon, 12 Jan 2009 20:30:51 +0000

Somewhere in Mississippi, driving from Jackson to New Orleans, I spotted Lance on his northbound walk along Highway 61. I u-turned and walked out to great him. “I’m walking up the Mississippi River and praying for the country.” In our short ten minutes together, at least a dozen passerby slowed dramatically; a parade of supportive smiles, approving honks, and enthusiastic cheers. Several more pulled over to seek the cross bearer’s blessing and offer him rides and money (Lance doesn’t take any donations while bearing the cross. Standing in a circle, hands clasped with the believers, I endured a short prayer and smiled and with respect and relief when we broke the huddle. A frail white man, with a heaviest drawl, muttered something about the glory of living in the end times. A stout black woman, squinting and beginning to sweat in the unseasonal January heat, proudly claimed to be “walking with the Lord” and concurred that indeed, “It’s a good feeling.” Lance offered up the latest fighting between Israelis and Palestinians as proof that, indeed, the end is upon us.

More prayers for the country… the end is near.

Asheville Arts

Mike — Wed, 07 Jan 2009 22:53:35 +0000

Like many towns trying to distinguish themselves and build higher level economies, Asheville stakes a lot on it’s arts district. It’s certainly the most successful example of this I’ve seen. Hardly a novelty here, the town is known nationwide for being the hip jewel of the south and cultivates that reputation. Galleries and open studios can be found all over the city. Walking around the river arts district I had chanced upon the Asheville Arts Council “Artist of the Year”, Jonas Gerard, in action.

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Olwell Family Christmas

Mike — Sun, 28 Dec 2008 03:01:50 +0000

“The Holidays” are an odd time for to be on the road alone. Driveways burst with out-of-state license plates - family caravans arriving late into the night after braving Midwestern ice and wind, the dreaded Lake effect, and gas station gourmet. Candles in the windows of neat white clapboard houses and from the car, quick glimpses of dinner tables and living rooms bathed in the comforting glow of twinkling lights, make a strange passing in the night feel quite apart from the land.

Owing to godlessness, I had no particular plans for Chanukkah nor Christmas, and I am planning to spend the New Year on a nature walk in the forest. It was my traveler’s luck then to couchsurf with Miles, a superb musician and teacher in Charlottesville, Virginia. I expected to pass through town for just a day, but he kindly invited me to spend Christmas with family and friends - the Olwells - in the quiet one street village of Scottsville, Virginia. They privileged me with warmth, kindness, and inclusion into their annual family tradition. For two days we holed away in the house of Matthew and Emily, feasting upon things home cooked and freshly killed, unhurriedly basking in great company. Music filled the air - old time clawhammer banjo, guitars, fiddle, Appalachian body percussion and Irish flute; the Olwells happened to be renowned makers of traditional Irish flutes with a six-year backlog for their work.

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