The Stolen US Map and Photograph Bag and Vancouver's Underbelly

It was one of those whirlwind times that I think all people get, or should get. I had spent a year without a home, first in Denver, then in San Francisco, then in the wilds of Elbert County, then in Lisbon then Mexico City. It was a long year. It was a long year not because there were more days than in normal years, I just lived more in that year.

It was my intention when the year started to live the total fuck-all year that I thought every writer should have. It was my intention to read a novel a day, write a novel a week and prospect experiences that would last a lifetime of fun barroom tales and countless short stories.

This did not really happen. It did not really happen because there were confines. I worked the summer in Elbert. I had been in San Francisco because of a sick family member. And although Lisbon was fun, I was there with little money and an even smaller amount of the Portuguese language.

By the time I got to Mexico City,  I had been through three small jobs and I was starting to think that I was going to have to find a "real" job just to save face with everyone including myself. But to get things very very clear, I did not want a real job, I did not want to fit into real life and I'm afraid that is still the case today.

But I did get the job. And that job took me away from DF and away from the Peter Pan life I wanted. I went to Portland, Oregon.

I struggled with many things in the early days of Portland. I mostly struggled with the fact that I wanted to be a writer, and I was unable to do so. I was working weird hours, and in the hours I wasn't working I was exhausted or drinking, either way, no words.

I had been writing a page at a time in one of my composition notebooks over a period of several months. I kept my notebook and my personal journal and a handful of letters--some read and some unread-- in a US Map and Photograph bag. I left the bag in the backseat of my car. That was my fault. When the car got broken into and the bag stolen, I was heartbroken. it was not just the burglary, it was the months of pain in the notebook that crushed me.

Then, I went to Vancouver, BC. That's where all the trouble occurred.