Flux and Coulter

Hello world,

There are so many stories I want to tell, it gets overwhelming to think about.  Since I wrote last, I've been in 15 different states. Each one with a set of experiences and people that have been irreplaceable.  And as much as I'd like to write about all of them, I'm not going to be around my computer for a while.  I came home for a few days for mother's day, connected with some key cup-fillers, and now I'm off to Yosemite for a few weeks.  I'm looking forward to exploring and reading and writing.  Here is one piece I wrote a few weeks back, thought I'd put it up.

Last night I was in Ohio.  I started out the day in Indiana.  It took me just two rides to get to where I wanted to be.  I decided to make use of the bus system because hitchhiking was going slower than I wanted to.  So I walked to the Greyhound station in Toledo.  The next bus leaving was going to New York, so I bought a ticket, and as I got on the bus and found a seat the bus pulled away.   For those of you who don't know, Greyhounding is always an interesting experience.  You've got foreigners who are trying to see the country as cheap as possible.  And the American's on board are for the most part a different class of people than you would see traveling by plane.  Which is partly why I enjoy it.

As I squeeze into my seat I notice the guy next to me across the aisle is writing down what seems to be lyrics or a poem, talking to himself as he searches for the words he wants, enveloped in his own world.  Of course I'm curious what he's writing and try to sneak a peak.  After a bit, he puts the binder away and I take the opportunity to engage.  "were you writing a song?"  "Ya! Do you write?"  His eyes were lit up from the beginning, full of enthusiasm.   19-years old, Coulter has the Irish eye sparkle, medium-length, straight, brown hair that hadn't been washed in a bit.  He wore a plaid collared shirt, jeans, and some unique old leather boots, untied.  A cigarette hung from behind his ear.  It didn't take long to realize he was a kindred.  There was nothing normal about the conversation.  We laughed at how there was no linear structure, it was just a flow, many flows at once.  "Flux," he said.  Soon we were both pumped for the 12 hour ride we had committed to.  I only slept for a few hours, and the rest of the time we talked about everything under the sun, and some things that aren't.  As we talked the question became, "how can we start a revolution?"  We came back to that question a lot.

Coulter went to a semester of college before deciding it's not what he wants for now.  Now he's living in a similar way to me.  Taking each day as it comes.  He was just in Michigan for a month collaborating on writing and recording music.  He said he wants to hitch-hike west in a few weeks, then head to Alaska for the summer.  Haha, that's basically my itinerary.   He isn't following any society-made structure, he is about as free as I've seen anyone.  He is quirky and brilliant.  Many times he would skip a week of school then ace the tests in high school.  He lives for art and writing, carrying around a bag of books and paints.  He didn't care what people thought of him, he spoke his mind and he jumped into connection with so many people.  Jumping up to help Indian parents clean their babies vomit, and giving generously to homeless who asked.

We had an hour layover in Cleveland, so we explored the town and ended up playing some foozeball.
I learned a lot on that bus ride.  Coulter doesn't live in any box, he sees the world for what it is, and he's not being mindless about it.  He is happy, and spreading really good energy to people.  He is not afraid to be who he is, to say his opinions and stand firmly.   It was one of those interactions that rekindled my fire and gave me hope.  I had been thinking how I wanted to meet someone like him.  Someone who is awake, who sees the world around him with an intense energy, and breaks the mold, leading into a loving rebellion.    He's someone I'll be keeping in touch with.  We're going to send each other writings for feedback.  We said farewell knowing that when one of us starts a commune, the other is on the top of the invite list.