tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-184352862011-07-07T19:03:34.444-07:00A compendium of physical and metaphysical journeys.Tom Manshreckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03136133488397409624noreply@blogger.comBlogger151100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18435286.post-1130803056381185612005-06-22T00:44:00.000-07:002009-01-07T15:22:03.257-08:00

"Nobody comes in here with anything smallThey all started out with bad directions"- Tom WaitsLight is both a wave and a particle. Light particles - photons - connect all things which we can see, and through the strange properties of relativity, the photons exist in a timeless state. During its journey from emission to interaction to reception, it has no concept of beginning or end - both are

Tom Manshreckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03136133488397409624noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18435286.post-1130802879348753182005-06-19T09:52:00.000-07:002009-01-07T15:37:56.622-08:00

Mile: 3629 of journeyMile: 0 of Alaska HighwayMy years studying physics inform me that time can be a function of distance, provided you can arrive at a velocity. I have been on the road for about 10 days, covering an average of 362.9 miles a day, which works out to about 15 miles an hour. All told, not that fast. Kerouac covered America in a little over three days in a '46 Nash going most of the

Tom Manshreckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03136133488397409624noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18435286.post-1130802708953250062005-06-17T15:35:00.000-07:002009-01-07T15:40:22.697-08:00

"The way you squeeze my lemons" -Led ZeppelinThe best cheeseburger of my life was at a diner near Mt. Whitney after my college roommate and I hiked the mountain in one long day. (The Coke was pretty damn good too.) Of course, that cheeseburger could have tasted like cardboard and I would have given up three years of my life for a bite at the time. My tastes are always most acute when they are

Tom Manshreckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03136133488397409624noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18435286.post-1130802518105861822005-06-13T15:47:00.000-07:002005-11-02T22:15:44.936-08:00

"Our house is a very very fine house" -Crosby Still & NashWhen I was in 7th grade, I started researching my genealogy for a school project. It was through this schoolwork that I discovered my ancestors came not through the United States but through Canada. I was somewhat let down by this, as Canada did not seem sufficiently "cool." But it did help re-establish contact with the (larger) Manshreck

Tom Manshreckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03136133488397409624noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18435286.post-1130799498104346932005-06-11T14:57:00.000-07:002010-09-29T16:54:32.040-07:00

"There is a town in North Ontario/ With dream comfort memory to spare And in my mind I still need a place to go/All my changes were there."-Neil YoungOntario is a large province. It stretches almost from Vermont to North Dakota, to give it perspective, and touches the arctic. I left Ontario at Sault Ste. Marie only to reenter it in Minnesota, near International Falls, the site of a huge belching

Tom Manshreckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03136133488397409624noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18435286.post-1130607325048471182005-06-10T16:30:00.000-07:002005-11-02T22:04:33.606-08:00

"Do you know how it feels?/To be out on your own/With no directionhome/Like a complete unknown/Like a rolling stone" -Bob DylanIt took a while, but I finally got on the road earlier this week. I'm now in a coffee shop in Duluth while it's pouring outside. Faulkner is sleeping in the front seat of my decked out car parked outside drawing curious looks from these Midwesterners (of which I claim

Tom Manshreckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03136133488397409624noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18435286.post-1131168507587366042005-06-06T09:28:00.000-07:002005-11-04T21:45:37.136-08:00

Brooklyn, June 6, 2005 Originally uploaded by manshreck.

Tom Manshreckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03136133488397409624noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18435286.post-1130607967718876512004-08-18T09:12:00.000-07:002009-01-07T15:27:15.386-08:00

faulkner sittingOriginally uploaded by manshreck. This blog is designed to contain my travels, both physical, emotional, hopefully spiritual. I should state that this post is 6 months overdue, and I am in the process of "backposting" to get this stream up to speed ...My travels for the past 6 months have been directly related to the cute pooch you see sitting here. His name is Faulkner (mine is

Tom Manshreckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03136133488397409624noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18435286.post-87707424410905817641995-06-03T23:29:00.000-07:002009-05-15T19:01:38.494-07:00

Tales of Southern Discontinuity, part I, the final chapterThe first river I encountered was the Missouri river. Perhaps it is this river more than the Mississippi that divides the West and the East. More like west of the Mizzou is really the West, east of the Big Muddy is really the East, in-between no one knows. You can say whatever you like, can even say a void, a void with Des Moines as its

Tom Manshreckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03136133488397409624noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18435286.post-19912473027597270741995-06-02T21:55:00.000-07:002009-01-06T22:42:55.194-08:00

Tales of Southern Hootchy-Coo, Part VI, any negativity in your views on death purely of your own creation I just reports what I sees.When I was 10 or 12 or 13, I forget, I suddenly become confronted with that intangible that I was going to die someday. I thought it was a joke. I didn't even know how to live and already I knew I was going to die. I knew what dying was before then but I hadn't

Tom Manshreckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03136133488397409624noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18435286.post-49305766257987870491995-06-01T18:46:00.000-07:002009-05-15T19:00:56.606-07:00

Tales of Southern Hospitality and Gentlemanly conduct, Part II"The Blues is a low-down achin' feeling." Being a good ole Chi-town boy, I grew up with the Blues. It's really a Mississippi vibe, electrified. It was Muddy and Junior and Howlin Wolf with their old hickory guitars that plugged them in and elevated the blues to what they are today. But the roots are all still there, in Mississippi, in

Tom Manshreckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03136133488397409624noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18435286.post-36386267848122596171995-05-31T22:05:00.000-07:002009-05-15T18:59:15.494-07:00

After a thoroughly bad night of sleep in Memphis, I headed out along the back roads toward Oxford, Mississippi, lifelong home of that most brilliant of men, a man who had no answers and wasn't ashamed of telling you that repeatedly, William Faulkner. I had rediscovered Faulkner after re-reading "The Sound and the Fury" in Portland earlierthis year, during a time when I had both the patience and

Tom Manshreckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03136133488397409624noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18435286.post-20300894202862898631995-05-30T15:45:00.000-07:002009-05-15T18:58:58.784-07:00

Tales of southern brusque, part V:My first brush with power was with electricity. It was with the crackle of lightning on a hot, humid Missouri afternoon. I had taken a nap in the afternoon, recouping from a night spent in a field outside Boonville. I woke up with the room shaking. I wasn't close enough to New Madrid but I didn't discount an earthquake, used to not discount anything. It was the

Tom Manshreckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03136133488397409624noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18435286.post-46301285551615506111995-05-29T11:48:00.000-07:002009-05-15T18:58:31.182-07:00

An anecdote.The events portrayed herewith are true. Exagerrations are entirely within your own mind.It was 11 AM. It was Goddam Memorial Day and it was colder than a quiet March Sunday. The wind was whistling through the deserted downtown streets of Des Moines. There was a loud silence of no traffic, the lights changing for no one, the homeless man walking down the block, then up it. What the

Tom Manshreckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03136133488397409624noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18435286.post-70435996820726099581995-04-19T23:23:00.000-07:002009-07-20T20:56:32.742-07:00

Last night I rode the bus and finished another 50 pages of ZATAOMM. I'm almost done (maybe tonight). I rode the #71 Haight/Noriega to the Ocean, got off after sundown and walked to watch the waves in the moonlight, came back to the bus, chatted with the bus driver some, and took it reverse back to downtown. Then I rode the #38 Geary bus a bit.Finally I rode the #21 Hayes street bus. This

Tom Manshreckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03136133488397409624noreply@blogger.com0