I recently tracked down an old college friend, Josh R., who was a Bukowski-inspired poet and surfer back in the '90s. I learned that he has created a successful business.

He printed up 10,000 little promo booklets for his company this week and, in the process, is generously spreading my brand around, too. Click on pic to see details. (Vanity note: I've released ten CDs, not eight.) He also made a Sandman listening page on the website.

Happy 66th Wedding Anniversary, Farfar & Farmor!

I just read a great novel: When We Were Orphans. It's by Kazuo Ishiguro.

Depression. What for? When everything is coming up sunflowers, I only notice shadows.

Summer's last full moon is waning. It's all I can think about.

My train-hopper companeros--Brandon, Trent, & Izzy--helped me rip the weather-beaten cedar shakes off my house today.

Tomorrow the friends will find a fast rattler in Dickinson and ride outta this dusty old state.

Fare thee well, old fellows! Remember this: "Patience makes the hobo strong."

And this: "Any man who eats pork & beans can't be all bad."

My friends Paul and Kristin got married yesterday in Killdeer. The reception was in Dickinson. I enjoyed catching up with my old pal Margi, whom I've not seen in over a year. She's now a biology professor at DSU and doing great.

Tomorrow I plan to tear the old wood shingles off my red house.

Hello from Killdeer Mountain. It's hard to believe that I've let a whole summer slip by without spending quality time up here on my parents' and grandparents' land. The bullberries and chokecherries are ripe, deer and bird are abundant, the temperature is perfect. The leaves, alas, are changing color too soon.

I have a few days off before my next international truckin' run, so I plan to make the most of it by doing some construction projects with Dad.

Today I received a disposable Sponge Bob camera in the mail from Scawy Monstur in Portland, OR. They want me to take 24 random pictures and then send the camera back to them, for an art project they're compiling. I can be as creative as I wanna be.

I also received an email from the Western Folklife Center Coordinator in Elko, Nevada. She requested that I apply for their 2010 National Cowboy Poetry Gathering. Getting accepted would be like making it to Nashville's Grand Ol' Opry, in my eyes.

Jonny "Corndawg" Fritz is in town.

He rode his R850R BMW motorcycle to Dunn Center this mornin'. We had an excellent day toolin' around the county. He's soon off to Spearfish, SD, for a show.

The filming is purt near complete--now the editing begins.

Yesterday's Dunn Center Auditorium show was sweet. Many came.

All in all, the last few weeks have been epically action-packed. I'm toast.

In two hours I climb back in the big rig and roll north to Calgary. Live fish for sale!

Life is currently strange and shifty. The documentary is in full swing.

I can't believe I just drove (with Goodall) to the west coast and back, again, in the last two days. On Monday we do it again.

My brain is melting.

Leaving Bozeman, now.

The tour is over. Driving back to Dunn Center, ND.

Things are unraveling and being re-woven at breakneck speed. Only the filmmakers will be able to document and relay these happenings. Lack of sleep has me hallucinating. Strange electrical currents illuminate my sleep-walk into destiny's abyss.

The day started on an unexpected note--Jonah flew back to Seattle. Long story.

Now Nerviz and I are in Bozeman. Our show tonight at The Filling Station was experimental. Long story.

The Bismarck show was mercifully cancelled. I'm in my own shack in Dunn Center tonight for a five-hour sleep. We leave tomorrow for Bozeman, Hot Springs, Bellingham, Portland, and Olympia. Five shows in five days. And then back to NoDak. And then truckin' again.

And then more truckin'.

Bring it on, ol' highway.

Lots to say, lots to say, and no time to say it. The last two shows have been the best of tour, so far. Columbia, MO, rocked hard. More on that later. Winona, last night, was incredible.

I believe fillmmaker Elizabeth is getting what she needs.

www.rolloutcowboy.com!

(Click refresh when you get there, just in case you still have the old www.rolloutcowboy.com cached.)

We're off to Des Moines, Iowa. Last night's Chicago show was at a tiny sports bar. The Olympics were on.

We're hoping that our luck turns around, starting today.

If not, Nerviz says he's going to kill himself on stage at tomorrow's Indianapolis show. Be there!

It's hump day in Chi-town. Home of both R. Kelly and Hugh Hefner.

After last night's thrilling yet abysmal Cincinnati show, we drove to our friend Cyndi's pad here in Chicago. On the way, we pulled over at an Applebee's near Indianapolis to rest for two hours. I slept behind some shrubbery.

Filming for Roll Out, Cowboy resumes today. The filmmakers have a new, improved website. Stay tuned.

I need a massage and chiropractic adjustment.

Three shows down, a dozen more to go. Pittsburgh has been a fun two-day vacation. Tonight's show was poorly attended--two people--but merch sales were surprisingly ample. I won't complain.

Moustaches and I have been playing a lot of ping pong, and that has been relaxing.

We're at my old buddy Bill Daniels' fantastic three-story $8000 house, in the very industrial town of Braddock, PA. Pittsburgh is fifteen minutes away. We play there tomorrow.

Moustaches and I drove all night after our Cambridge, NY, show, to get here. Yesterday's gig--part of The Mill Valley Festival--was in upstate New York, way up in the hills along a river. It was something akin to a mini unadvertised Woodstock.

After three long days of driving, The Moustaches and I arrived in Philadelphia, where we've just completed our first show of the tour. My pal Jonny Fritz (aka "Corndawg"), an inspired songwriter and performer, set up the show and played, too. Moustaches rocked. The crowd also liked my set. I sold $150 in merch.

Two nights ago we crashed on Alex Stevens boat house in Winona, MN. Last night we stayed with Rhonda and Kyle in Canton, OH. Tonight we're staying at Tracy's here in Philadelphia.

After the show tonight, Tracy and Troy, an old Montana friend, took us out for Philly cheese steaks.

Hi from Sauk Centre, MN. We're headin' to Winona for a good night's sleep on a Mississippi River houseboat.

Our first show, this Thursday.

Philadelphia, PA.

Moustaches arrive tomorrow. After a brief panic that we should abort tour, 'cause we don't have a lot of good-paying shows lined up, we've decided to go for it. Our first performance will be in Philadelphia on August 14th. Then NYC.

Both Jonah and Shawn shaved their moustaches for some reason. I won't be conforming. It's Fu Man Chu time for Sandman.

8-8-8. Infinity cubed. Triple happiness! It's like the dragon who eats its own tail (eight ate eight).

Why, then, is there an ancient bird, with grave and stern decorum, rapping at my chamber door?

This was supposed to be my lucky day.

Travelin' through Montana this last weekend felt like a homecoming. I picked cherries; saw a moose, three mountain goats, and a coiled-up rattlesnake; visited Grandma; and played a show at the Morrow Ranch.

The show celebrated Jeff Morrow's 50th birthday. Jeff's a professional saddle maker and one of the funkiest cowboys I know. He has pictures of Sly Stone, Bettie Page, and other punky iconoclasts pinned up throughout his shop and bunkhouse.

Jeff and his wife Joanne treated me royally; I felt like a visiting senator. They'd made a stage of straw bales and plywood out in the barn for the show. The absinthe- and whiskey-drinkin' crowd was groovy. Working cowboys mingled with elegant fashionistas and stoned beatnik hermit mechanics.

My night ended late, with a poker game in the bunkhouse.

The next day, after a sourdough and huckleberry pancake breakfast, I drove east via Glacier National Park.

I'll be truckin' west again in two hours.

Stick a fork in me. I'm Dunn. Back home in Dunn Center, that is.

Kudos to Pearl Drop, my four-wheelin' supercar. She ran like a dream.

Now that I've returned from the Northwest, I'm getting ready to head back. Tomorrow I'll climb into Shawn's big rig and drive to Vancouver, BC, to deliver a load.

I'll recount my excellent Montana adventures in the mornin'.

Hi from Choteau, MT. I'm frustrated. I'm at a hotel that promised wireless internet, but the room they put me in doesn't get a signal. The owners won't answer the phone, and their office is locked for the night.

And they made me drive to a mile to a gas station to get exact change to pay for their overpriced, dirty room.

I'm now huddled next to the office door, trying to blog.

I'm taking a towel tomorrow morning.

Not really.