meditative thoughts from an evergreen state of mind

         Today I have been in "Merica" for one hundred and seventeen days. I'm sitting at a desk eating stale cereal reflecting on all the motions that brought me here and curiosity rushing through my body just wondering if this so called real life will always feel stale. Maybe it will just swallow me whole not even the common courtesy to chew me a little just have some sort of fleeting sense of emotion.
          From this window I can watch trains and boats pass through even see ducks swoop down landing in the cold sound that stretches out before me. Somedays I get a strong urge to run down to those tracks run along side a locomotive waiting for the one car to have its doors still propped open and dive in. Just to keep seeking the adventure that always seems to linger on my lips, always wanting that unfamiliarity and discomfort that keeps my red raider blood flowing.
           But then I snap out of my Kerouac wonderland and start school in three short weeks. For the first time in Nine years I will sit in a class room. Do homework, write papers even pedal to school like junior high. I hope this venture into academia will provide me some enlightened vision quest. Not to make more money then the next guy or seem important or prove anything to anyone but myself. Maybe to show that I'm not that hair gel toting mindless peon that was just a product of the middle class suburban facade that conforms into a box that just gets stacked away checked off that proverbial list of americans who spend and buy, buy bye there life away.

Fox River Valley

sweet-tempered feelings we share
laying in the dark breathing soft night
outsides cool and damp
blowing leaves rustle in the alley
you let me in with inversion
my bag lies still now, my shoes worn
I stand before you jobless and poor
BUT you look into me like I'm something more
I run in circles to pass the time
BUT when you get home every thing's fine
you catch me gazing at you when you speak
its only me in attempt to find the depths to your unceasing mind
BUT as the Beatles said so eloquently
"Let It Be"
your inner mind is so inexpressibly Divine
BUT you have only let the special ones in to find

my mind is so scattered just as my timeline
Ive been here and there, up and down
oh what the hell and side to side
so who could blame a mind that's nor here or there
in any one time
or a body that's slept in as many places as mine
now that my pace has begun to slow
I'm beginning to feel a celestial glow
and just so you know
these words are not for show
BUT for admiration for a girl I'm just beginning to know

San Francisco in Everlasting

You start with ever shade of dusk

          your home to characters of every

          my eyes see you phantasmal a plenty

          your lights shine some hallucinating facade

          your neighbor hoods illustrate wince to the nation

Haight-Ashbury set back over the city

          your a distant touristy reminder of

          your hippie past wearing mock tie-dyes

          western winds sweeping bewitching fog over

          your hills laying comfortably like breast reaching

          for the sky Telegraph Hill Russian Hill Nob Hill

Mission stands in deep depiction of a pill

          your lifeline  lengthy of ups and downs

          your never weary of baring wholly

          my eyes see busy bustling days

          drunk horny dirty nights

          keep up the buffet of life

Castro your sooooo GAY

          your streets are neat and pretty

          your smell is of marijuana and rosemary

          I see one of a kind

          your numb to societies standards

          you enjoy mockery of generics

Downtown you shadow your city

          sunlight can't find your sidewalks

          you must be the backbone for why

          would you stand so tall over

San Francisco

you see through soft feminine eyes

your hearts thunders with the passion of the strongest man

your street singers amuse the rhythms of your soundtrack

your nakedness is never alarming

in this way I adore you.................  

i came Now I Am

i came scared

i came mad

i came sad

i came short haired

your heart felt good

your mind Utopian

your persona unique

your voice sprinkled emotion 

like a landslide

how many special people changed

how many lives will never live the same

how your like a visual illusion

I am tranquil

I am thankful

I am exhilarated

I am longhaired

you are the Gypsy Train

champagne blonde/finding the gypsy train

                      

       In December 2009 I arrived with trepidation for yet another winter season of bartending, this time at Squaw Valley in Lake Tahoe, California. On the first day I was acquainted with the usual suspects of any ski resort, except one. With champagne blonde hair, freckled nose, and perfect pearl white smile Ashley stood across the room. I was incapable of taking my eyes off her through the entire orientation. But then I talked to her, judging instantly, I presumed she was moody, self-absorbed and an unmitigated pain in the ass, only to discover a short time later how wrong I was.

A few weeks went by. Ashley and I worked and argued together. Once feeling contempt for this beautiful girl, I found myself at the end of each day with thoughts of her. I would get perpetually excited on the way to work each morning. Slowly our encounters became friendlier. I realized deeper down she is actually caring, dependable and could make me laugh uncontrollably. Then it happened, in the midst of a friendly feud about work and a few beers, we stepped into the snowy outside, I kissed her. To this day I'm not sure in what instance I thought to kiss her, but I did. The next couple weeks went slowly and with uncertainty.

Then one night in early February Ashley stayed over and after that we were together nearly every night for the next months. In May we visited Portland, Maine Ashley’s hometown. Then decided on a whim we would move there so she could be near her family. We both flew back west with plans of me packing my things in Seattle and meeting her in Tahoe to drive east for the summer. While at home getting things together I received a message from my best friend Zach "I'm buying a bus and we need a fourth person, you in?"

With Zach’s call in crept that wanderlust feeling that so often consumes me, compounded by apprehensiveness of crossing the country for a girl. Deciding I was too crazy about Ashley not to see how things could turn out, my bags were packed, ticket purchased. When I arrived at Tahoe Ashley and I were both fearful and intimidated about the future. We spent the next week finalizing the end of season at Squaw, shipped what wouldn’t fit in the car, loaded the rest and set out in the evening sun winding up the hill on Highway 431 taking one last look out over breathtaking Lake Tahoe and drove across the dark night of the Nevada desert.

The next week we happily rushed across the US visiting the Grand Canyon and friends along the way in Colorado, Iowa and upstate New York finally arriving in Maine the night before Ashley’s 25 birthday. Everything for me at this time was feeling so right and I was ecstatic with my decision. First couple weeks were great until I was unable to find any work. This started to exhaust me, which lead to arguing and frustration. We moved into an apartment in downtown Portland at the height of all the quarreling. Pressure thickened for the both of us. So badly I wanted everything to work out. All I could do to numb the situation was run. Literally running everyday day of the week was my only escape. Every thought I had was consumed by “what to do, how can I make this work, what can be done?” No matter how bad things got, I missed her every time we were apart and I was always so happy to see her again, adding even more confusion.

Then one morning like any other in early August we woke up in our little apartment, making breakfast and coffee. Still so easy to remember the whole morning so vividly, bright sunlight shown through our makeshift curtains and across the hardwood floor where I sat days earlier building our sofa. Left over pizza box lying on the floor from last night, and half drunk wine glasses sitting on the side table. We were both drained from thoughts of feeling like we needed to make some sort of bourgeois life for ourselves. We began to bitch at one another, unaware of any necessary reasons. All of this culminating to the most tranquil dispute we had in days.

I began packing my bags in frustration and anger not believing I would actually leave but in some child like temper-tantrum. Ashley seemed to ignore my behavior as I walked through our place picking out the things I could fit in my duffle. The apartment was hot and quiet; she sat on the end of the bed amongst the ruffled sheets my bags lay neatly by the front door. I walked through the open bedroom door, stood in front of her feeling like in any instant my heart would burst. I wrapped my shaking hands around the back of her head and gave her the softest kiss I could on her cheek just below her eye, pulled her in close and whispered “I Love You.” Turning, I walked out of the room, laid my key gently on the dining table, grabbed my two backpacks and duffle and walked down the carpeted stairs, out to the street below.

I stood there for a moment in tears my skin trembling. My ears listen intently for the sound of her voice, asking me to “get back inside.” Nothing was heard but the soft swish of leaves in the trees above. There was nothing left to do but walk away. Faintly remembering where the bus station was I began in that direction, sticking to the side streets hoping not to see anyone. I walked the 20 blocks in the blistering sun feeling desolate and pointless, arriving finally at the bus station, which felt like it had taken hours and hours. I stood there with my bags with only one real option, Boston.

A good friend from Seattle was living in Boston for school, so I bought myself a ticket for the next bus. I sat and waited leaning against the building watching the cars pass by with unfocused eyes. Forty minutes went by I sat that way feeling sad and lonely, the bus pulled up and it was my turn to get on. I walked passed empty seats making my way to the back. I tucked myself in a corner and texted Colin, he replied immediately with directions to his place. The bus ride was quiet; I starred out over the dimming New England sunlight. The next 3 days I hid away in Colin’s spare bedroom talking with Zach on Skype and looking up flights the world over.

I was feeling so many mixed emotions during this time; it’s like everything I wanted I couldn’t have. I came back after another long run along the river in Cambridge watching the crews row on the river in perfect synchronization and buses pass through the languished summer city. Walked up the steps and into the turn of the century home I was staying, into the bedroom still sweating from my run, pulled up the flights for Bogota, Colombia and purchased a one way ticket for the next day. Just like that in 24 hours I would be flying out of Boston and leaving everything behind; whereas, just days before I was walking the streets of Portland handing resumes door to door.

The now infamous Bus awaited me in Ecuador. The bus was broken (the first of many broken moments), but Zach assured me it would be ready to roll at anytime, in actuality it turned out more like 6 weeks, but when in bus, no one keeps track of time. I traveled the next two weeks on my own in Columbia all the while excited to see Zach again and meet the crew in Quito. During this time my mind raced, wishing at times I were back in Portland, with the girl I still loved. Thinking maybe my decision was too rash but too proud to admit, I just hoped every time I went online to check my mail there would be something from Ashley.

Finally, I arrived in Quito, Ecuador meeting Zach, Alex, Aleana, Matthias and Monkey. We spent my 26th birthday hung-over on the floor of a Hostel eating cheap hamburgers. Instantly I felt at home and welcome into the uncharted future of the Gypsy Train. Even after many months of travel my mind would still wonder and have nights desperately missing Ashley.

THANK YOU:

I would really like to thank Sally Barker and all of her family for so much support and help while I was in Portland. Letting me into there homes and so graciously looking after me as if I had always been there. You still and will always mean so much to me, and thanks for always making me laugh so hard.

Also Colin McLaurin wow!!! saved me in the last moments, even when I was 3,000 miles from anywhere I knew, there he was to lend a hand in a moments notice. And to his Beautiful roomates Katie and Christine for letting me spend hours telling my sob stories.

Thank you all

simple & easy

raindrops on window panes

whistling tea kettle

soft music

sliced fruit

sweeping floors

washing dishes

swaying hammock

good book

restful nap

rain drops on palms

sliced tomato

corn tortillas 

joint in the setting sun

listen to waves crash

crickets in the grass

in candle light

easy and simple

8 buses One Boat/ first morning in Guatemala

concrete walls rise to meet rusted roof tops all in haze through smoking chimneys
clothes lines and power lines run over the town like some tremendous web
appearing as to hold the town from sliding down the precipitous slope
all resting and nestled at the forplain of a volcano
bearing the same name as the town it so quietly shrouds over
I sit on the balcony in the early morning pearing out over the still town
the only sounds to be heard is the far off tuk tuks climbing the hills like a struggling  lawn mower
a refreshing feeling runs through my body in total happiness with the sight of a new place and country
colorfull clothes drying on the lines sway in the wind almost like tibetan  prayer flags
the streets of the town not wide enough for a car twist through like a labyrinth
dogs roam free and innocent around every corner
women walk with baskets of warm banana bread balanced upon there heads
wearing lustrous skirts of indigo and fuchsia heald together by a glittering sash
the smell of dark rich coffee roasting inside every cafe as I pass by
smiling children shout Hello!!! as they run past on the way to school
a lazy morning is spent over espresso and plates of fruit and granola in a warm garden of mango and avocado trees bringing shade from the rising sun




this is just something I wrote after my first morning in guatemala feeling great about my travels

blue suede bowling boots

In the arc of conversation

all I think about is all I want

All I want is to kiss you

In the sand we lay and we talk

you say sweet little things

you smile with sprightly sparkle

In the excitement 

skys we watch begin to shatter 

we run with laughter

In the night

I really really feel weary

can't sleep to your mystery

I don't know why

In the light of my morning

Im calm like fire crackers

after all I have run from

where the fuck did you come from

In the moment

feeling crazy emotions

I met you once and fallen for your notions

I don't know why

a little note...... a love poem may seem trite and there is not many things you can say on the topic that hasn't already been said but a wise person once told me "better out then in"

Mexico City Bus Terminal

Awoken hastily from my seat

made warm by my sleeping body

in a bus rolling into Mexico City

within moments I stand dumbly

in front of dozens of ticket counters

so many bodies rushing in all directions

reading sign after sign of destinations

Tijuana, Culiacan, Los Mochis, Guadalajara

even Chicago

a man pushes a large broom in utter monotony

walks with uniformity

speaks to himself lowly and lonely

sprawled on frigid marble floor I sit

 early morning a bright electric red clock blinks

6:38am

again a man with the large broom pushes by

exact pace in exact place 

over my shoulder the sky begins to brighten 

sound of taxi horns piercing

interrupt soft sounds of chattering and footsteps

across frigid marble

where I sit, I wait

indigenous women walks past

with rucksack hanging down her back

indignant porters work with feverish haste

in blue overcoats hanging to there waist

she stops - stands looking vacantly at ticket counters

wearing the same look as I wore an hour before

morning gets later the sounds grow louder

the pulse of the day gets underway

the sky is full’n bright

the electric florescent light subsides

a more pleasing natural color illuminates the terminal

a swarm of porters stand circled

cigarets resting on finger tips and clanking change

earned earlier morning

I just begin to puzzle

 where is the man with the large broom

he is not in the room

maybe sent to another place

another space

time continues slowly

I sit perpetually idle

my mind tires with thoughts

my own monotonous wait

day is so long with nothing to do
except push this pen

he arrives

pushing that same tremendous broom

with his belly 

holding it steadily same pace same place 

he does not speak like before

his mouth is occupied with persistent chewing

a sugary doughnut he’s truly cheery

his content generates my elatedness

the morning is transforming

my day has begun

the bright electric red clock blinks

9:36am

April 22, 2011

By Mike McNett

People Say???

love, live, laugh

but do they?

signs hang in bathrooms

above fireplaces

in bedrooms

around a picture

but

is this happening

you keep watching and drifting

your words collect dust
people in this world are feeling lust
feeling life 
open your window to the world
if you want the world to bring you happiness
the sun is burning down
take a walk around

open your lidded eyes

as living signs of vitality

we bid farewell winds blew like hell

 eat, sleep, savour our travels

take time slow - so slow that it grows

till we're rolling 

we rise up - live it up

any time there is a chance for change

our skin will tremble

engage a different gear

dont wait for fear 

have the intention

Strangers becoming friends

friends becoming strangers

     all transcending 

rove like Neal & Jack

apprise us stories of travels

take desires breaths

be inspired to live

be spontaneous to laugh

under-take for love

By: Mike McNett


Note: there is a link on the first line its just to give you the idea of what it is that im talking about if you are not awar and a link on neal and jack so you know who they are

Green Plastic Chairs

I lay in the bed of the Gypsy Train

sun begins to set on pages of a book

corner of my eye watching sunflowers

pass by in beautiful blur

Zach Watson sits next to me

on a busted green plastic chair

guitar in lap we sing songs 

about girls of the past - we smile about the present

feeling enchanted while another crimson twilight  falls

the night passes in beautiful blur

Morning finds me in a tent

rheumy-eyed and hung over but still

that same smile about the present

entangled with an extraordinary brunette

my arm still sleeps resting under her head

I slide it from under her head delicately 

leave her lying to rest with a kiss

Zach Watson sits next to me

on a busted green plastic chair

cutting board in lap we are aged 26 and deliberate

reasons for conventionalism or lack of reasons

pots clank, potatoes fry, water boils, coffee is served

then all disintegrating into a mad talkfest-yellfest

our morning passes in beautiful blur

Afternoon is upon us

the road was calling

we don't talk, we say nothing, we drive on

through another South American Country

the wanders and wonder away from the pan-american

we scour the country side for a place to make our home for the night 

We site in our busted green plastic chairs

watching the day turn into night in "gypsy" solitary

skies are clear everything is silent except our voices and crackle of fire

stars and fireflies arrive

our eyes negotiate where stars begin fireflies end

oh how I love these beautiful blurs

By: Mike McNett


Authors note: there's a big wide beautiful world out there for those who want it, its out there!