Well, I'm alive.

I need to have a gunman, however, to push a Colt into my temple and make me type up the journal I wrote on the train... about 20 pages of trying to remember everything that happened. Especially stories of guys from Fargo who spent 15 years in Holland. You've heard nothing until you've heard a Fargo/Dutch accent. It's mind boggling.

So yes, it was a great ride. And I didn't want to kill myself too often--only when my legs started to feel as if they were going to pop off. I'll probably wind up taking it back--200 dollars cheaper, and a lot more hilarious characters. Oh, vegetarian scruffy Noam Chomsky-reading nose ring boy. Why must you be en route to Vancouver, and not to my pants?

More at 11! or something. This dial-up is bringin' me down, man. Oh, and I'm lazy and still unpacking. HO HUM.

Music: the voice in my head telling me to get a job now.