Philip W Holland

I have, as projected, made it through the delightful Upper Peninsula. The old spirits of the forest did not permit me to stop for any length of time and the form they assumed was an unending swarm of apparently cellular signal jamming mosquitos. Bet they pollinate the hundreds of miles of great white trillium understory there.

Now enjoying the rain and chill at a Chippewa River wayside area out of Eau Claire, Wisconsin. Skeeters behind me, but still bald eagles to see and to hear. Freedom. Burnt my dutch oven bread last night attempting to draw less attention than a coal generating fire by using the camp stove.

Generally unsuccessful, yet mostly edible if not palatable. Method is feasible, just needs research and development, and possibly some sort of thermal attenuation under the bread pan. Perlite? Gravel? Jar lids? Not today’s problem.

Came here to evade those who reopen the main gates of a park in Chippewa Falls. I was going to bake morning bread in the public grills, but after following signage for a scenic drive “right quick”, stopped atop a pine hill with lake view to make coffee. And a skillet breakfast.

A perfect time to sit and repair the leather bag that belonged to my best friend Nicolas, the heirloom quality of which deserves the respect of careful mending and proper usage. People come and go to look at the view then move on. I sit on the other side of the car and take all too long to hyperfocus on some very tiny work, which is my speciality.

The sun goes down. The gates have been closed. Probably could have slept there with no issue, but I find a way out through a residential adjacency. Orient to a rest area within the general hopscotch towards the Flying J Travel center in Black River Falls: my general destination after spending most of my hookie playin money on camping sites (an unsustainable fool’s errand much like rent), car parts, and (assertedly responsible) provisionings.

I put fifty bucks on a Pilot/Flying J account last week in attempt to book a shower. Truck stop showers have always fascinated me and I was finally gonna take one. It was wonderful. It was also eighteen dollars. Cash, because the Pilot in Dexter, MI is old school. So anyway, I have gas money only good at Flying J, and have been out of their jurisdiction, as well as any general cell service, since I headed up the carpal tunnel of the Big Mitten.

Plenty of time and space to be alone. Becoming clear now that, as a distinct and lifetime outlier, the realm within standard deviation from the norms of human society is generally fraught. Bet lots of cowboys had autism and adhd. Definitely brain damage. Just have to maintain a persona of a person who isn’t on drugs or insane, and you can treat your engine bay like a camp kitchen and take your digital camera apart and put it back together in a trailhead parking lot. Nobody cares.

Saw a guy play a trombone at a scenic overlook before the Mackinac Bridge. Carried water from various sources of varying potabilities, palatabilities, and turbidities. Laundered, bathed, in the open, for the low cost of the requisite elbow grease. Got pulled over in Wakefield for driver side brake light out. Watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate.

Anyway so this all won’t be tears in the Wisconsin rain, next task is set up the web store and work on some works-in-progress. (While out of cell range, I have printed cards which I regretted not having during conversation with many interesting and interested people along the way. This can be monetized.) All I really need is gas and pocket money. And new tie rod ends which became very clear after navigating many miles of improved and unimproved roads.

I do not regret it. Have I done something stupid? I assert that, within this context where everything is demonstrably stupid, that it does not matter. Plus I do as I will in any case. I have come a long way here to find places to just be, without someone charging money or saying you can’t do stuff. What people think that I am supposed to be doing is a proactive disconcern of mine, a burden to be unyoked. I do my best work this way.

But for now I have been just settling in to a life outside the framework of what other people do and expect. Something something about being and becoming. Recalibrating to what actually needs to be done when, right now, or ever.

Still haven’t seen a moose or a bear. One day.

Anyway send me a few bucks for car parts so I don’t careen off a mountain $philipwholland

live carelessly pwh 06-09-2025