Gonna Ride A Southbound / All the Way to Georgia / Til the Train, It Run Out of Track

Dear Blog,

It's 4 AM. I'm in my friend's house, typing very loudly, with Road Trip playing in the background. Yet I am still unsatisfied.

Matty offered me a place to stay if I wanted to move out of my parents' house. Actually, his mother was the one kind enough to offer. Apparantly he had an aunt or something that had to find similar sanctuary with her best friend. That is, she moved in with him because she couldn't live with her parents. The idea sounds lovely - he called it a little "vacay" - but I'm way too old to be running away from home. I told him I'd have to walk all the way to his house, with a red bandanna tied into a sack on the end of a wooden pole holding all my necessities. It's hard to cram everything you need into a red bandanna tied into a sack on the end of a wooden pole. Really hard.

So I just sang the lyrics to "Can't You See" by The Marshall Tucker Band.

It seemed fitting at the time.

P. I. Staker