I broke things off with my girlfriend.
I took a taxi to the Amtrak station and left Jacksonville at 9:30 or so. It was a rainy night.
On the train, I took to drawing. It seemed like the best thing to do with my racing mind and restless hands. I made several good illustrations, Even flushing out some illustrations that I'd put on the mental back burner for a special occasion.
The train itinerary featured a six hour layover in DC. I went to a few museums and sculpture gardens and made a charming drawing from life. I gave away two drawings before I left town, undocumented. It felt exciting and dangerous.
I had a few hours in New York, to walk around Chelsea. I twas the middle of the night. I got a felafel wrap from a street cart.
I had a transfer in Boston which allotted me enough time to grab a coffee and a bagel- it was early in the morning. I enjoyed this transfer. I found the coffee shop just outside of the train terminal. It was a fair trade, organic free exchange, etc. etc. place that was in the location of where a Starbuck might be. (side note, at the time of the publishing of The Starbucks Experience, Starbucks was opening 5 new store per day). Anyway, this placed was slammed. The fair trade market in coffee now has drastically expanded from my vantage point. But how green can you really be when you bring fair trade coffee from Central America to the northeast (or any great distance) and sell high volumes to go-go-goer's in to-go cups. Hundreds of to-go cups. To-go is an environmental nightmare. Convenience is a real killer.
I arrived in Portland Maine at around 9am. I had no plans. I walked around town, sat down at a taco place and met a beautiful young woman named Sydney. She tried to set me up with a bicycle, as I expressed interest in riding to Bangor. No luck. I continued on, found my way to the art school, MECA, where I took a short tour of the illustration department. I enjoyed the school very much, especially the part about students having 24 hour access to the entire building- that is number one on my art school checklist. Everything seemed great about the place. I went to the public library and thumbed through a pile of books about Maine history in the public archives. I felt that this research has greatly enhanced my appreciation for the state henceforth. I walked towards a bike shop that Sydney had referred me to. I saw the Salvation Army serving dinner. I went in and asked if they needed help. They gave me some gloves and asked me to bus the dining room. They offered that I eat dinner first. It was a great dinner. I stayed after the meal to help with cleanup of the dinner hall, then went to a cafe nearby, where I talked with a couple locals about the town, and where to stay that night. I was referred to a bus line to take me to a hotel, outside of town by a couple miles. I checked in- it was like a motel 6 (which there was one of just across the street). It was nice. I turned on the tv and indulged in a movie featuring Matthew McConaughey about HIV and drug dealing.I got a late start the next morning, I walked in to town, took the tracks for a mile or so and saw some cool graffiti. I talked to a gentleman named Vic who's was opening a cafe about painting his sign. He was going for something cheap cheap cheap and quick quick quick, so I moved on. More cafe's, more drawing. I sat at the ends of a pier among lobster traps and seagulls (heavy fish smells from seafood processing plants) and watched the sunset. Sailboats dotted the harbor and a pair of seals lolligaged in the bay. Another great dinner. I had a Guinness afterward. Across the bar I saw a middle aged man look defeated when he saw me ordering a beer alone. He too had ordered a beer alone. We didn't talk (and maybe this is just me projecting) but I felt that I had let him ( as my future self) down. I resolved to wake up early the next morning at least. I met Hilary at the bus stop. We were waiting on different busses. We both enjoyed many of the same things, and conversation was fluid. She asked if I wanted to smoke. We smoked together. I caught my bus before hers arrived. I gave her a very clever little drawing. Back at the hotel, I tried to outline some drawings with ink, but this was a bad idea. There is an illustration expression, 'if you drink, don't ink', I believe this to be true.
I woke early as planned the next morning. I took a bus into town and had a nice breakfast, where I inked some drawings, successfully this time. I explored Portland more that day. I went back to MECA and talked about the next steps toward applying. I went to the art store, and bought some cans of spray paint to go paint the town legal wall. I spoke with Maxon, the store owner's son and to a local woman who'd attended the school about the college, good reviews. I walked across town and a couple miles down a trail on the water's edge to the graffiti wall, a retention wall to the town water treatment facility. I painted a large piece over some gaudy New York gang graffiti. I was thanked multiple times by passers by for painting. It was a beautiful scene to be painting right there on the ocean. I met a new friend, a homeless gentleman, who stopped by the wall to talk. He has been voluntarily homeless for 30 years. He told me stories about his adventures living in the woods in British Columbia and some techniques for catching and cooking fish. He also told me about a submarine that was sunken in the harbor there in Portland that was leaking mercury into the water and about the depleted cod population throughout the state of Maine. Of course, (especially in the case of the submarine) this is not commonly known to the Maine tourist. I ran out of paint about three quarters the way through the piece, and went back to town to get more at the store. I arrived a bit late and did not get the paint. I hope I can get a chance to finish the painting after traveling to Bar harbor to visit with my family. As the sun set, I went back to my favorite local cafe and asked my friend for advice on sleeping at the bus station. He referred me to a coach line alternative to greyhound, which didn't open its doors until 8 or so in the morning. I left the cafe and went by MECA, where I found the doors open. I went into an illustration lab and worked on drawing for a few hours. I left at about the same time the bars were letting out and caught the late night dinner rush at a pizza joint. From there, the only place that was open was a Denny's, nearby the bus station. I took a taxi out to it. I sat down and had a milkshake and some fries. I stayed late into the night, and grew very tired. I walked outside, committing to at least being away from Denny's. The air was bitter cold. I went into a nearby hotel, though the lobby and into a stairwell, where I made a small bed on the top floor and took a few hour nap. I left the hotel as the sun rose, grabbed breakfast and went to the bus station which was now open. I checked in, then slept under the bench for a few hours before my bus took off. I slept on the bus.
In Bangor, I took a cab to the airport to wait on my family to fly in from NYC. Their plane was delayed, so I took a walk down the street to a nearby skatepark, where I smoked with some locals and shared stories. Aaron gave me a ride back to the airport, where I met up with my family upon their arrival. We rented a car and were off to Bar Harbor.
