I think I've been subconsciously working for years to put myself into positions where I can really relate to Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone". I hope there's been some intention there , conscious or otherwise because if not it'd be even more sad than trying to end up that way. It had something to do with the fact that I had drank too much the night before with the guys from Oregon in Big Sur. It also owed a little to the fact that my energy had slowly drained away due to not being able to afford food until I got far enough away from Big Sur and as such hadn't eaten all day. But mainly it was due to a chance encounter by my, err, campsite on the beach. The spot had been hand picked
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