in Portland

So, gang, I'm in Portland, Ore. And just as I suspected, it's wet.

I just got internet service and was talking to my brother and he said I should blog. So now I blog.

And I'm hoping this is a way to communicate my experiences here to those afar and are interested in reading them and perhaps responding to them or each other.

Or not.

As some of you may know about a month ago I packed up my Jetta with what ever would fit and said, 'so long' to a life in Albuquerque. North on I-25 with Heidi, my dog of three years, I got out of the only place I knew to be home. We rode, Heidi, in a space I created in the back seat, and I, 25-year old Carson K. Smith.

In Denver, Colo. I stayed for a few days visiting friends: Marie, Genny and Amanda. I fulfilled my Jack Kerouac dream of eating Pizza downtown at a place he used to frequent and having a beer at another.

In Denver I met up with Steve, a college friend and former roommate who would join the journey -- north by northwest.

With a two-car-strong caravan, I continued north. I'll never forget the warm welcome a state trooper gave in Cheyenne, Wyo. I won't be returning for my December sixth court date, but I will miss the money the bastards made me pay for speeding there.

We went from there west to Salt Lake City, Utah where we spent the night in a Best Western or someplace like that. And from there we went to beautiful Reno, Nev., where we stayed the night with my cousin, her husband and two sons. We gambled in Reno (I broke even), and we drank some beers.

From Reno we went to Portland. I'm quite surprised my car made it. And for ten days we stayed with friends, Jerry and Rachel, who I owe a great deal to. I started working at the Borders in Beaverton, Ore. and soon had a one bedroom apartment. I've put some furniture in it and I attempt to cook.

And here I reside.

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