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Well, we did it. 18 total hours of being dirty and free. I’ve been planning this trip to fort Madison all week, and I successfully convinced a good friend to come along for the ride. Dead fish, ticks, fear and discomfort.. I love this shit man.

Waiting game…

We were waiting for this train to come for hours. About 4?? We got dropped off at the spot, as leaving a car wouldn’t be the move. Obviously. You’d either get towed or someone would strip your car clean of everything it’s worth. And leave your shitty MySpace revival deathcore cd collection behind. Nerd. But we walked down through a cutty desire path and set up base while we waited. & by set up camp, I mean squat down and smoke cigarettes breaking edge while watching workers pass us by.

A truck pulled up maybe 20 feet from us too. We were a little nervous. There were four wheeler security guard mall cop motherfuckers paroling the premises the entire time, so we assumed that we were seen through the woods, and got busted for trespassing. Turns out he was just a maintenance worker shutting some containers that opened up. Yikes!!! Some luck that was though huh. The car right in front of us.

we heard that sweet sweet rumble. Ohhhhh man,,, was this it?? Sure enough it had the cars we needed, and guess what. It was a priority line. Everything was ready. We looked around for 15 minutes trying to find a rideable car before settling on just sorta squishing in together in one unit, but hey. I’m not complaining, friendship and magic.

When I say this was the most beautiful, relaxing thing I’ve ever done, it isn’t an understatement. It was another instance of where my human fragility was so on display. One wrong thoughtless move and my fluids would become rail lubricant, and nothing would stop. The train wouldn’t stop til it reached its destination. The world wouldn’t stop. Everything would just keep on going babydoll.

But the upside of that fragile, insignificant feeling was just how small I felt. Although I was riding something unstoppable and larger than life, it was nice to be rumbled to sleep. To have the white noise of the rails sorta numb your brain out. There’s just so much stimulation you aren’t thinking about submissively bumming a cigarette off your friend because you have an itch. Your mental needs are already being met.

It was beautiful out. We weren’t riding dirty face (when the wind is hitting you head on, bringing dirt and grime up.) and by the time we started going gear five haul ass speed, the sun went down. All the fireflies and tree frogs decided to come out, and holy shit. The fireflies looked like a vintage basketball stadium photo where there’s a million pix with flash going off behind the smoke and humidity. (That effect was cause they used to allow smoking indoors in stadiums!! They took that from you!!)

The moon was bright, I was being rocked to sleep by a steel horse and I was riding that sweet high of doing something inherently dangerous. A lot of people complain about how romanticized hopping is. Don’t ride suicide and get comfy, and it’s romantic as it could possibly be. If your romance involves 90% waiting around and 10% actually riding the train. Sleeping was like being shook to sleep by a massage chair. Any bed is gonna feel like an unenthusiastic handjob compared to that little goodnight treatment. Eek!

FORT MADISON.

This place was. Interesting. We got in around 2:30 AM, and walked 30 minutes to a beach to camp out on, and man. This town was fucked. People willingly live here?? The abandoned buildings were cool, and the old architecture of industrial mills and plants absolutely rocked, but it was such a desolate and depressing town, I couldn’t live without the noise. Like just blocks and blocks of… …. … yeah. Of course there’s a charm to it though and I’m just being an asshole, and of course if you have your people, you can make anywhere work, but man. Anyways.

We got to the beach. A couple old heads from KC told us about this place. Said it’s camp-able. Is it?? Sorta. It was right in this divot by the service road next to the tracks. We walk in and the smell of Mississippi River festering rot hits us immediately. Too tired to care. Set up camp and sleep. Zzz.

About a majority of the smell??? Loads of rotting fish carcasses. Everywhere. Trash and bones washed ashore. Creatures I couldn’t even makeout just bloating and spoiling in the sun. It was so goddamn hot out it made the air thick with fish innards and decomp. It woke me up it was that bad. but, we were tired and just wanted a place to sleep. Take a look though.

Genuinely so much I couldn’t even fit it into an edited photo. Gross.

But let’s get into fort Madison again. There was this really nice diner we went to in the morning. They had a whole bunch of stuff but I settled for a cheeseburger and some fries, some of which made it back on the train home with me. They were super nice, and even cleaned off and refilled a water jug that I dropped into decomp mud while checking myself for ticks. I was going to try and go to halls ice cream, but with the blistering small town heat and my already building exhaustion, I just couldn’t. I made a promise to myself that I’d go though, since someone told me about it. So next week I’m going back specifically for this ice cream shop. The whole 18 hour whole trip. Mark my words.

Walking back to the beach where we camped to wait for the next train, there was some abandoned trailer park homes full of toys, family photos, everything. Kinda sad. Nothing much else to say about it though. Poverty.

After getting back on our second train, we hunkered down and got to our next destination around 7:30. Not bad, but I did wish it was nighttime while riding. You’re a lot more visible during the day too which is a little more pressure on you to be curled up and hidden away from any other cars to the side of you. Bulls can be some mean motherfuckers, and you don’t want to be seen doing this in general.

Fort Madison. You creepy, small town, somewhat charming but also very unappealing son of a bitch. Will I be back again one more time for some ice cream??? Yeah. After that??? Probably not. Thanks for having some really nice people and a festering beach to camp out at for a night.

Byke dyke!! Sweat in my eyes. Everything burns.

I’ve been here in town. No trips planned. Honestly itching very bad to get out, but I need more money.

Midwest & burnt carpets.

Also check this out! This is horrific.

I wanna hangout with you n smoke n listen to your banjo in the backyard

My home. The tiny city where I reside. I love it here. I love being trans and dirty here. I love being back after a long grueling trip with minimal sleep. And playing banjo in the backyard. It’s just so flat, when your dog runs away, you’ll see it for about 3 days.

Just DIY’d the essential fisher price “little delinquents” secret side belt. Throw this bad boy on under your windbreaker, and every property can be your oyster! Concealed carry motherfucker.

I also screen printed the Norfolk Southern boot on its base. It’s a slight misprint, but this is a personal item, so whatever.

Fort Madison again today!! Waiting on my freight. Gonna camp out. Spent some hard earned money on some lighter and hopefully more comfortable gear. There’s what seems like 3 times the amount of security as there was last time, so I packed lighter. The last thing I want is to lunk all my shit around, trip, and get caught up in some bullshit.

I want to see what else is up with Fort Madison too. The place seemed cute. Maybe meet a few alright locals if I end up breaking out of the cycle of keeping to myself. Anyways. Looks like this is gonna be a later ride again, which I truly don’t mind.

Live. Do shit. Don’t live your life on an algorithm.

If you have any questions on anything talked about in this, ask me. I would love to help, and clear up on how to do this shit safely.

You don’t wanna lose your legs dancing with a freight.

With constant prying eyes and AI backed surveillance systems with state of the art technology raping the earths natural resources, having fun and enjoying life in a general sense becomes extremely hard. It’s not a new concept or way of thinking. We didn’t start the fire.

But the technology is something that wasn’t here in the past. Fuck, it wasn’t here to this extent even 5 years ago. The digital realm is taking over, and actively being shoved down our throats, and we aren’t even being given a cigarette and a Gatorade to refresh after being fucked this hard by all parties involved. What do we do? What can we do?? How can we have fun and look past everything??

It’s more simple than you might expect. And it only involves leaving your house and fighting for your own sanity by doing risky, illegal and immoral shit to satisfy an itch you might not have had til you dabble in it. Graffiti. Trespassing. Train hopping, hitchhiking, stealth camping and shoplifting. All at your fingertips so long as you have the heart and courage to be a kid.

Of course these are all to varying degrees. Don’t shoplift felony amounts. Don’t break into someone’s property not knowing it’s occupied, then get filled with buckshot rounds if it doesn’t tear your limbs apart first. Know your limits, know what you’re getting into and understand that if you educate yourself, 9/10 times what you’re worried about happening, probably won’t happen. The most fun I’ve ever had was throwing generator shows in abandoned motels, hopping out of state via fr8 to eat at shitty diners with friends, and writing on shit that isn’t mine with paint that wasn’t paid for, all for cheap kicks.

These streets are ours. Never let them take your place on this earth. Surveillance doesn’t mean shit once you learn how to get around it. Once you learn your limits. The fun is endless, and it’s all outside. Closer than you might think.

Be a kid, be a shithead teenager, and be a vagrant cheapskate adult.

Murder. Human burial. Leftover meth and free shit.

From the brittle bones and remains of hundreds of animals covered in crack & drug residue hoarded in an abandoned house, to the deep and vacant grave of a woman brutally killed a month earlier at the time of posting this, this one is morally scattered. Is it ethical to steal from a crime scene?? Depends. But the drugged out junkie friends of the woman murdered got to it first. This is where we came in, scoping the spot out and seeing what’s in store,,,, it’s a lot.

I’m four hours from home on a stretch of private property, roughly 8 acres of land partially owned by Billy Tabor, a man who murdered a woman and buried her on his land. The details on how she was killed isn’t clear at all. Like, no coverage of how it was carried out besides the fact she was dragged to her plot and buried, where her stench and human gas stuck to the humid muggy air of the deep Missouri woods, leading to officers finding her two days after her death.

How we found this place is irrelevant and I don’t care to share. Regardless, I will say that we set up cameras here before staying the 5 hours looking through everything and scoping the spot out. Me and two others drove about 10 minutes down this path into the woods on this huge plot of land where the house of Billy was. We were surveying and making sure nobody was there while we were, considering they stole a shotgun w ammo that belonged to him. Who knows what could’ve happened to us if we crossed paths. This idea was fucking stupid in the first place. Getting riddled with lead by tweaked out fried redneck-esque backwoods addicts for trying to snag some vintage sturgis 99’ tees on their newfound homestead turf?? Jesus. Someone should carve some sense into me. Worth it.

After seeing we were in the clear, we got to looting. Rationale being: if we didn’t get to it first, they’d continue clearing it out. They simply gave us the green light to not catch a breaking and entering charge considering they already busted every lock in this place.

According to the probable cause statement, the witness said Tabor ultimately dragged Cook’s body with a Honda CR-V to a lower portion of the property near a body of water.

Here it is. Janice cook’s empty grave.

It was by a body of water in the backyard of one of the abandoned homes on the property. There was a rudimentary path, with grass still lying flat where she was assumingely dragged. Nothing else much to say about it. The atmosphere was very bleak. Graveyards are already heavy, but seeing an unconsensual illegal DIY grave plot where the decomposed body of somebody with a life was forced to toss and turn til they were recovered by law enforcement. Eesh.

Anyways.

There was absolutely no shortage of shit to take and pocket here. By the looks of it, the tweakers had only made it to the drugs and electronics stored in the house at this point. Outside was still the trailer that one of them left behind, full of disassembled electronics. Why is it that when junkies steal shit they always disassemble it & leave it in a jumbled mess?? Anyone else notice this?? It’s seemingly never scrapped or used.

But after going through the shirts and drawers, we found atleast 30 really good vintage shirts. I think putting a meaningless idolatry centered hype around vintage clothes is fucking stupid. Under this circumstance though??? It’s definitely a lot more interesting than your vintage distressed band tee you bought for 60 bucks. This was FREE 99, and it smells like crack!! Beat that!!

But lots of bones, lots of paraphernalia and lots of overall unsettling imagery knowing what happened. The tone and energy of a place can shift drastically depending of what happened there no matter how pretty a place is. Humans are rabid and always on the prowl for violence and destruction whether it’s sub conscious or not. It’s how we’re built. It’s just instinct. But the factors that go into play when a murder is committed almost gives it a cultural value. Its profitable. True crime podcasts, monetized body cam footage, the never ending stories. I think it’s lame. I wish we were like animals, where it was just something natural that happened. Unable to comprehend why or how it’s happening. With no sensation around it to give it a “spooky” or mysterious vibe.

We drive back to our places after completely looting that bitch out.

With all the bones??? This got made. All the shirts are in the wash so I’ll make an update with flix eventually. This whole post and experience was very strange. A horrible energy was in the air and the looming threat of physical violence from other trespassers made us a little uncomfortable. Nonetheless, it was still successful and we got a lot.

This doesn’t exactly fit into the travel / urban camping thing I got going on, but since it’s a couple hours away and we ultimately made more than we came in with while spending 0$. Fuck it!! Low or no dollars!!

Tattoos that I’ve done.

Being around unsavory individuals and burnouts my whole life, I’ve seen my fair share of shitty tattoos. Myself included. But there’s just a certain, authentic charm about these kinds of tattoos. Very intimate, very in the moment and experience based rather than trying to look aesthetically & visually pleasing. But understanding the fact that these are (sorta) completely permanent, the appeal of fucking someone’s shit up with my hand for art became irresistible to me. I had the itch and I had to take it out on some clean virgin skin… or atleast some clean spots. Here’s what I’ve done so far. ↓ ↓

I hope to do more, but I don’t have the energy and I’m constantly traveling and moving so it’s hard to keep my word and stick to a planned appointment. These are all on my friends though, and sticking true to my love of art and socially unacceptable counter behavior, I’ll continue to only tattoo those I’m close with in completely unsterile environments, in living rooms, on my couch. All so you can have an experience and hopefully some art you enjoy on your body forever.

+ I’m light handed. I won’t hurtcha too bad :)

We ended up on some private property deep in them mountains. About the low dollars part?? This entire setup (blue scout tent, 8’ 12’ tarp & lawn chair w sleeping bag) cost about 80 bucks. Fuck. I would’ve racked them if I could but I don’t want to risk the vampiric AI facial recognition super soldiers dismembering me for trying not to get leeched off of. Anyway.

This property was fucked. I mean, super disheveled. There was an old rusty bed post maybe 60 feet from where we set up camp, tons of old scrap cars and garbage lying around. I half expected to wake up handcuffed and dismembered from the stomach down on that bed frame. Eek. I’ve never seen the moon so bright though.

HOMESICK! HOMESICK. HOMESICK…

Is what I could be saying. Although my getup was cheap, I’ve never had such a physically isolating experience in my life. My quarters were comfy, the sleeping bag did its job and kept me dry, and the chair. Did chair. Stuff. Being in the woods with absolutely zero service really makes you realize how fragile and meaningless you are to everything. Had the looming thought in the back of my head that I’d either end up as fuck bait knife lube for a manic on the run, or a quick bite for whatever creatures happen upon the area. I was too tired to give a fuck either way.

^^^ continuing the tradition of haircuts in the wild. Jett wanted a classic skullet. My friend Ben wanted a mullet. Gave him a real authentic one, genuine Joe dirt cheapskate dirtbag mullet. I promised myself that I wouldn’t cut my hair til it got to shoulder length….

I got a Chelsea.

It started raining super early in the morning around 3. I found out the hard way that my tent wasn’t water proof. The rain leaking + the condensation from my drunk body made it unbearably cold and humid. Terrible combo, it feels like a Great Dane is breathing on you while you’re going through heroin withdrawals. Just mucky and gross.

Kansas City Missouri is my next stop. I’m getting dropped off by some friends, about 8 and a half hours away from where I’m at right now. There’s a hopout via fr8 that will take me to a little place called fort madison. I’ve heard that there’s a little diner there you can drink and post out at for a bit while you get your shit together. It’s also 8 hours from Kansas, is what I’ve gathered through a couple people who have done it. The stop after fort Madison?? CHICAGO.

It’s a raining, I’m covered in brush and pokers. Just climbed up the side of a mountain and I’m 8 hours from home. Fuck. I’ve never camped, let alone took a nap outside on a summer day. Why is this happening??

THE GRIND IS WEARING AWAY AT MY SPINE.

… and I had to get away. Welcome to the start of my amateur vagrant journey. Where I’m going to attempt to live off low or no dollars with absolutely zero prior experience. Never hopped a freight. Never camped. And tonight is the first night I’ll have to sleep outside as I have no choice & act like I know what I’m doing on social media for experience points. I’m currently in Colorado, somewhere deep-ish in the mountains near what I believe is golden. I’m with a couple good friends, no goal in mind yet besides sleeping and getting back to Denver after tonight.

^^^ we kept the hair. Birds don’t deserve to have beautiful human locks for insulation.

There’s a lot I didn’t know about the mountains here. Cactus is fucking everywhere. I was climbing down a slope and slipped, got a hand full of pokers and spines. Ouch!!

The rocks are also super slippery. We trekked up this motherfucker, and in exchange found scenery relatively untouched. It was near this abandoned bridge covered in shitty pre teen love note prom graffiti though. Broken window theory proved to be true as some rocks had been vandalized and painted.

We’re currently heading somewhere to camp and post out. Not sure how to blog. I never have before. Bear with me.

Sorry for snu typis.