I had arrived at the first crossroad of my life where my dreams of the straight and narrow were instantly transformed like some strange algorithm; the plus signs suddenly replaced by unknowns continued …
The Journey South
After the crossroad I became a half assed ‘’grad’’. I lived in the haze between night and day with blues and jazz music in smoke filled rooms and minds, freaks of the night, drunks and misfits, thieves who lived in the underworld where I had taken refuge.
I had become part of a crowd who, with single minded intent, killed themselves from the medicine in their needles.
I searched for a road away from that life when one night in frustration and despair I gave up the fight.
Determined to break away from my self imposed bonds I donned my army coat, grabbed my scarf, threw away those ridiculous looking cowboy boots, scraped together a couple of hundred bucks and ran away into a night of bitter cold determined to hitch 1,200 miles away from that cold winter bitch I had grown to know knew so well, to another place where maybe I’d find the warm nurturing wind I felt before the roadblock I encountered at the crossroad.