I am thrilled Scott has something new--I haven't heard of it and it's good the old-timer is still putting out the good word.

Austin might be the best place.There had been much development and urbanization, but the geography and ecology of the area is god-awful beautiful. All the young folks are hipsters, but it doesn't bother me. There are old rivers, old buildings, and brutal hills, tarantulas, and fire ants, ancient oak trees, and dry river beds. I speak Spanish here when I can. In the late 1830s two fellas lived in a small cabin and raised cattle. It was a potentially lucrative thing, but dangerous, because you had the Mexican threat and he Indian threat. The Mexicans invaded San Antonio and all but 12 families stayed in Austin. Not soon after, one of the two fellas went from town to check on the cattle. It was bad timing: an Indian tribe killed him. The other fella didn't give up and kept working that land. Much of it was later donated, and you can ride your bike up and down Shoal Creek still.

I think some of these philosophy types were real far out guys, too extreme. I'm going to enjoy myself, eat well, ride in the sun baked hills. The women here are pretty. Did Hegel ever ride up a fucking hill? Did he ever eat smoked sausage in Texas Hill Country? Did he ever go to the river and hang out with half-naked latina women? Danny and Stephen have the right idea. They work hard, then the go home to a good family and drink beer and ride horses.

I have a truck stored in Anchorage that needs driving. You'll have to jump it, secure the hood, put some air in the tires, put in fresh gas, change the wipers. The blower needs fixing. Other than that, the Jeep is a good truck. You can use the Jeep to explore Alaska and you can use my land as a base to live and camp. There's a sleeping bag and a mat in the truck along with a pair of boots and rain gear. You'd be doing me a favor if you got the truck running and went to see the land. Just visit Kevin and bring him something, some food for his family and some good stories. He knows that area better than anyone, and recognizes hard working men who are men of character and courage. Karl too, of course. But Karl already predicted my path. He already saw a hole in my vision. Guys like me are cursed with legibility. The ******* were minor lords of Scotland. We weren't even nobles, just land lords, advisers, lawyers. Been that way for 10 centuries.  Scott has to be in the same position--he makes fun of himself, that he's a professor, that the entrance to even read his books means a fella has mastered legibility.

I ran in to two old timers 2 days ago and I told them of my travels. I told them I saw things in the mountains that dwarf my whole concept of what's really out there. That's the business, that there's that great hidden energy in the mountains, like a big pile of cocaine, and all a man has to do is accidentally ride his bike up the Andes.

I think Hesiod was on to an old, old, history. It was when man walked across an earth that was splitting apart. He spread out, and there was a freedom and greatness never since experienced. The whole population of Earth was incredibly small. This is the loss of a golden age that Hesiod woefully lamented about--its loss, its passing. 9000 years ago he wrote about a lost age. That's gotta wake a man up. This guy won his freedom through writing. He was a slave with his singing. He and one other guy made their mark. The other guy's name was Homer, but that plant blew up and now they truck it.

However, the great event was your ride on Ruta 3. It was a violent break with Western thought. They need to get a few young guys out there to go out alone, and see what that was all about. That will settle these pissing matches of the hipsters. The very memory of that god-deathful wind makes me cower. Never in my life was I ever more in awe of nature. Its cruelty. Its brutality. I didn't matter. I regressed to a beast. I felt no better or more special than any creature on earth. What fucking philosopher gets this sort of shit. eh?