Walking through the unconscious consumer oppression of the american people
On day 95 of crossing America barefoot I travelled from Cottondale FL to Chipley FL...
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I woke up on a concrete porch next to some train tracks. An hour later a man drove by in a pickup and asked what I was doing. I gathered my stuff, told him I was walking across america barefoot, and began on my way.
A person walks into an almost empty room, stands on a chair, and asks a light bulb, “What are you even doing with your life?”
A small boy followed me as I cut through a field behind the local high school. When we got to the end of the field he asked me what time it was. After I told him he began running back across the field.
If I had started walking barefoot across america when I was eight I would be done by now.
I stopped at one of those stores where everything is supposed to be cheap and bought eight cans of food. The cashier seemed sad. After paying I walked across the street, sat in the grass, and ate the cans of food.
Every time I eat out of a can I think about the tree this can was harvested from.
On the way out of town I walked under a bridge and then through a puddle of algae in the middle of the road. When I was halfway through the puddle a car stopped. The driver said, “I wouldn’t walk through that puddle with bare feet if I were you.”
If you don’t like the way I touch puddles then I suggest you began your own journey barefoot across america and touch puddles the way you think they should be touched.
While walking alongside some trees I asked them why they didn’t feel the need to be racist, sexist, homophobic, or transphobic. They shrugged, but didn’t say anything.
Maybe somewhere there’s a fascist tree built upon the struggles and hardships of all the other trees but I doubt it.
I saw a washing machine for sale in the middle of a field. A mile later a man was having a yard sale on his front lawn but the only thing he had left for sale was a toaster with a digital touch pad on it.
It’s not surprising whike on this journey I haven’t thought, “If only I’d brought more kitchen appliances with me.”
I stopped to meditate next to a tree. Before I closed my eyes a car drove by slowly and looked at me. I thought they were going to ask what I was doing but they eventually sped up and disappeared.
An automobile looks at the passing scenery and thinks, “Why are there still trees?”
I was nearing the town of Chipley. A lot of the houses I passed were built on large empty lots of land. I passed one house whose driveway was perfectly lined with a symmetrical number of trees. It’s not hard to wonder how much oppression these people unconsciously took part in to live the lives they live.
Sometimes in the wealthy towns you can hear someone brag, “The comforts I choose not to live without only kill 1.4 human years an hour.”
A few minutes before it got dark a man asked if I needed a ride. Then he looked at my feet and said, “Doesn’t it hurt?”
Two men standing next to a new large flat-screen television and one of them says, “This thing sure used up a lot of finite resources and probably caused various levels of suffering to someone somewhere.” There’s a pause before both men laugh.
The town of Chipley seemed slightly deserted as I walked through it. All the businesses were closed. My phone said the grocery store was open for another hour but when I arrived the doors were locked. I shrugged. Another full day of walking with only one meal.
I could not hear whatever emptiness I was feeling as I walked on in silence.
In many ways my eating habits have never been more free and natural. I walk until I find a food store, eat until I’m full, then walk to the next food store.
It’s kind of like the person in that book who only ate when he found a tree with food stuck on it.
After stumbling around for twenty minutes I found a place to lie down. Before lying down I used a hose to clean my feet.
What I ate on day 95: Bananas, cashews, canned spinach, canned potatoes, canned corn, black beans, canned beets, and salsa.
A poem
Instead / of / planting more trees / one guy decided / to paint / all the trees / red / but / he couldn’t / because / the color red / was illegal / so / he walked / to a nearby biscuit / farm / and / gathered / all / the leftover biscuits / from a trough / of / dead food / waiting / to die / or / at least / trying / to wait / to die / and / after / he thought / I should / come up some ideas / but / the only idea / he could do / was / more biscuits / the trough was empty / he cried / for / the lack / of / biscuits / in his life / the tears / were so crusty / a mound / of / sand /developed / in the yard / he carried / large buckets / of / this / sand / to the roof / when / the mound / of / sand / on the roof / was done / being gathered / he sat / on the mound / and / prayed / for answers / and / more biscuits / but / instead / only / another man / developed / and / this other man / said / I am / more important / than / every biscuit / that / has ever / washed up / on the beaches / of / america
If you're interested in my previous journey across America check out the book: I am a road.
