Off The Grid: Indonesia

I built this cabin with a leatherman as part of my training.

Dear reader, I write to you via my lap top from somewhere in Indonesia. It's not that I can't tell you where I am, I honestly don't know. My Trainer/Shaman/Guru has me involved in a training regime that I've been struggling to make sense of, yet I know I must follow his instruction as it will only benefit me in the distant spring classics.

I'll give you a brief description of what I have been enduring these past few weeks. I have come to realize that it is not a dream that I am shackled to my machine of torment. I can only surmise that this is a technique designed to de-sensitize me to the anguish I feel when I lay my eyes upon the beast. An hour before sunrise I am freed from my chains, fed a bowl of slop, and injected with a low grade dose of malaria as my "teacher" feels I must be completely "reduced" in order to gain the insight and strength needed to meet his standards of what I might become. I've given up on my daily requests to have my loin cloth cleansed as I know the answer. Instead, I toil in my own filth mounted on the beast that I have come to admire in some twisted way, much the way a victim begins to admire his captor. It sickens me, but it is my existence.

My hours are long and my load is heavy. Despite my burden I shall not complain for I know that I will see you all on the other side. Please do not be alarmed at my appearance for I have undergone many changes since you last cast your gaze upon my American being. I now blend with the indigenous populous as I travel from region to region. I know not where my next post will come from, but I hope it finds you well. Until then, I bid you adu.




That's me working in the mid-day heat. Don't let my appearance concern you.


To those of you who know me best, send my regards to my family. I miss you Amy, Betsy, and Gray, but it won't be too much longer...

More to come...