Would you care for a peanut butter and Jehovah sandwich?

Is it even possible to eat the ineffable God? Transubstantiationists think so. Perhaps it should be the inedible God.

ACT 3

Beyond all this driving around and tourist hawking, I've been wandering around, writing a little and reading Kerouac for the first time. And finding a ghostly beat ancestor there, going west for the sheer westness of it, much as I am doing now. I feel the need to soak up all around me, and yet be a little detatched all at the same time. I had a review at work, and they told me if I am ever stressed nobody knows it because I look so calm, almost too calm, all of the time. I do get stressed. I have a featherlight, strawberry-patterned scar on my right hip to prove it. Its just that I don't get stressed about normal stuff, and I see little things as terribly important. I take time to fritter away meaninglessly, watching people or reading things of no real consequence. I totter back and forth between wanting to look at the mountains and not wanting to. The balance of grabbing life by the balls and ripping it off and being way to cool to even notice life, or notice life tourists, pins me down. I recently read the following from The Happy Isles of Oceania by Paul Theroux, "Tourists don't know where they've been. Travelers don't know where they're going."
All of the travel writing I read is morose and excited all at the same time, like if the author doesn't pull back in a moment they'll be crushed with the weight of being able to move about freely.

I got an email from an old friend, Andy Brown, today. He apologized for some junk that went down two years ago. I forgot all about it, but his wife is expecting a child and I figure he wants to get everything off his chest and really be ready for fatherhood when it arrives. We worked everything out of course, as there really wasn't anything to be concerned about in the first place. He told me I sounded like I was on the right track when I told him about my black, church-hating heart. Little does he know....

So, things keep continuing on, much in the same way that they have. I don't really think about what is going to happen next, but just kind of look forward to it. I could be 400,000 different people next year, in one of 400,000 different places. I oscillate between being bored and riveted with anticipation.