Shady Cove

I think my journey isn't over, but my book has somehow fallen off.

I'm in Pampa, Texas, and I have so much to say about Chris, but I'll never do him justice. I stayed at his house for one night, and he talked to me for four hours, and what he said has all run together.
I hate leaving things. I was doing so much better when I wrote as I lived. Trying to remember what happened, to reconstruct the feelings I had at the time, is increasingly difficult. And I'm trying to live life again for the first time in a year or so, rather than putting it off. I took the GRE and applied to substitute teach.
But I want to finish. You don't even know about Todd the vagrant who doesn't wear shoes or the single leaf of pot I own. You haven't heard about Walnut Canyon or the worst road on Earth.


There's a lot of story out there, and I lived part of it. I hope I get a chance to share it with you before we both die.