Crazy times. I just returned to Killdeer, ND, this evening on the Amtrak Empire Builder. Tomorrow I'll cram into a car with G & G and my parents and we'll head to Spearfish, SD, for three days of Thanksgiving festivities with my aunts and uncles and cousins and such. Perhaps I will find some time to gamble in Deadwood, hike through the Black Hills, or get into a knife fight in Sturgis. Sadly, Mom chopped my thick mullet off tonight, and I fear my strength has been decreased. I look like a plucked Butterball! More like a plucked duck, probably.
The train-ride was cozy. Trisha drove me to the station yesterday. We ate crepes and piroushkies at Pike's Place Market, prior to departure. I left the VW pickup at Madrona Autoworks in Olympia. I'm so done with that ugly piece of beige crap. I gave the mechanic the title, so perhaps the four-month curse (which conceivably commenced the day I got it) has been lifted. Or at least shifted to another sorry sucker, trucker, plucked-duck motherscratcher.
And, tomorrow, to make the prophecy/poetry complete (see my astrologer's prediction from the November 16th post), I will be reunited with 319 Joe, whom I parked in Spearfish two months ago before hitch-hiking to Denver, where I then flew to the East Coast to start my tour with my pal Stephan Said (pronounced Si-eed). Aka Stephan Smith.
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