What For

 Momentum is my answer. Not usually good on my feet with answers to serious questions, or ones with big structural implications, so I thought I hit the nail at least near the head. What did I want to get out of a driving trip across northern America, she asked me as we hit highway 96. Heading west for work is the easy answer, the one most accept and press no further. You could fly for that and be there in hours. I guess most people get it that I like to draw. Less explicit is that movement inspires me to draw. And since it has been a while since I have experienced that addictive do-si-do of seeing and making lines, I need this journey where momentum is the hopeful byproduct.

Momentum however cannot be achieved in any form without the functions of basic human rhythms. This morning I am happy to say that I am past that – things flowing fine despite being away from home. Have not even busted into the prune supply yet, but maybe it had something to do with my cousin Rick’s phenomenal eggplant parmesan. Or maybe the hour I spent fending off seasickness on the high-speed ferry kept things poised.

So Leila, my friend and traveling companion, and I set out from Pinckney, Michigan yesterday right around 12:19 east coast time. Aiming for an earlier departure, but the scope of this journey precluded those ambitions. By that I mean we are camping. I am trying to recall the last time I camped. Oh yes, the Yuba River just before I moved from Berkeley to Ann Arbor. That was 1990 and we were mostly naked.