New Campsite ...Courtney and Creeper

It's Tuesday afternoon, and I'm sitting at Mellow Johnny's, typing madly away.  A lot on the plate since I last wrote.  Managed to load the entire "house" on the bike using only one bag plus my backpack.  The blue tarp is rolled and attached to the front handlebar with bands I cut from an old inner tube, compliments of Madame LaBelle.

New campsite, btw.  I came up about midnight, not far behind the heels of another one who was pushing his bike up that bloody Matterhorn.  Spread the wet clothing out to dry on branches and bushes, eventually went to sleep.

This morning I slept in until 8ish, then got up and groggily put it all together.  Packed out my second plastic bag of rubbish.  Not the big black rubbish bags, but the smaller ones they give out in the grocery stores.

Why do street people trash things so badly?  I've always gone by the admonition, If ya pack it in, pack it out.

Keeps things looking much much better.

I was sitting at McDonald's when Courtney and her new beau, a guy called Creeper came walking by.  They borrowed enough to get a pack of Bugler, sat and talked awhile.  He seems pretty enamoured of her.  Kept talking about the job he might get flipping hamburgers, all excited.

And he has the irritating quality of continually talking about himself, interrupting others when they're telling a narrative because what they just said reminded him of something he'd...you get the idea.

Had to hold up my hand to cut him off.  A bit of growing up to do.  For all of us, no doubt.

I'm charging my camera's batteries here at Mellow Johnny's.  More and more situations present themselves.  And I think:  why didn't I take a picture of Paul?

Courtney kept asking about Drifter, the guy she wrote the letter to after she'd had sex with him one night.  He never replied to the letter.  But still she has an interest in where he is, what's going on.

I've not seen him in two days, I said.

Two days?? He might be in jail.

Perhaps.  The beat goes on, the streets are as mellow and mean as ever, and the little miracles approach me shyly, knock at the door, grin and shuffle.

A found phone.  A generous and grateful phone owner.

Peace.