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Hi again! If you hadn't noticed, I am traveling around the US and writing about it. I am looking for nice, fun people who can put me up for a few nights and feed me and pay my way (since I am broke) and show me a good time (since I like good times). If you think it might be fun to host me for a day or two or three, email me at justingrace AT mac DOT com with your info and address and phone number. I am especially looking for places to stay in the southern USA and the south part of the East Coast. I will be traveling all over, but here are the places I will be in the next few weeks that I am still looking for a place to stay at:

Texas: Between Austin, TX and Louisiana
North/South Carolina

Thanks in advance for your help! And now, more of my banter...

US Tour Day 13, Part 1: Leaving the Golden State

Wind generators near Cabazon, California.

Jesus, it's hot. The sweat where my body touches the seat of my car has soaked through my shirt and pants, covering the back side of me with a dark, wet discoloration. I'd lick clean all the toilets of one of these desert prisons for an air conditioner in my car.

In spite of my exhaustion, I had trouble sleeping last night. So, I'm just beat today. I keep looking for any opportunity to stop my car and get out and break the monotony—and to keep myself from falling asleep at the wheel. Not that falling asleep would be possible in this little red broiler I call my car.

Indian museum: closed.

I tried to visit an Indian museum in some no–name town, but it was closed. So, I went against my scruples and went to the General Patton War Museum, a place full of tanks and bullets and various killing–related stuff from world wars.

Me and a mannequin of General Patton.

A real bazooka. I always thought that bazookas were this thing that only existed in the minds of pre–adolescent boys. Who knew that they also exist at the Patton Museum in California?

I posed next to some tanks and took a few pictures. It seemed funny to me to be standing next to big killing machines. That sort of thing is non–existent in my regular life, as I prefer to surround myself with machines and tools of creation and with technologies of kindness and love. The museum kept me awake for a while, but the sleepiness set back in once I started driving again.

The USA is big. It's huge. If there is a word or some group of words that describes something that is bigger than huge, then it's that, too. Maybe even bigger. Distances between cities is unlike anything I have experienced in any other land. Imagine being a truck driver and doing this every day. Ugh.

I stopped at what remains of the cemetery in the ghost town of La Paz, just inside of Arizona on I-10.

I don't swear much, but the only word I can think of is fuck. I don't care how beautiful the scenery is, I really want to be done with this driving.