Thursday, May 13, 2010


If there's one thing that'll ruin a trip, it's a bad funk.

The last ten days in LA have therefore been dedicated to preventing said funk from following me on my trip. I have spent literally hundreds of dollars on wool socks which, according to a scruffy looking guy at REI, won't hold a smell. I have overgarments and undergarments and smartwool and woolite and everything else I could possibly need to be a proper "backpacker."

In the process, I've developed another sort of funk. Between the advice-givers and well-wishers, I feel oddly burdened. There's been too much time put into process... documents, prescriptions, clothing... that it has been easy to forget that this trip is more than just a logistical exercise.

It's a good reminder, frankly, that there are two funks that can ruin a trip. Getting rid of a bad mood is as easy as changing a pair of stinky socks. Just do it.

So I did. I put on a third kind of funk (a Mike Doughty song that I heard on Mike Brennan's WWC playlist), got a large diet coke in the McD drive-thru, rolled down the windows and remembered how lucky I am to be going on this trip.

In 16 hours. Gah!

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Location:Cheviot Hills, Los Angeles, CA