Tugman State Park

Just arrived to Tugman State Park, 30 miles or so south of Florence. Tugman State Park is beautiful and peaceful, quite the contrast to casino at Three Rivers. Hooked up to electric again and it’s nice to play music without worrying about battery. Oregon Dune territory. Hiked around Eel Lake on a great nature trail. Dogs loved it. JP went for a swim and his love of water gets crazier. Some kids in small kayaks steered around JP saying “that dogs crazy...” They were seriously afraid. Its too hard to explain JP to people. One guy on the path said “I’ll just hold on to my dog” (which was unleashed) as we were passing by. I said “I don’t think you understand. Two killer dogs here. They want nothing more than to attack your Corgi.” I took mine on a side trail. They looked at me like I was an idiot. People have said dogs reflect the emotional state of the master. Maybe thats true for most breeds. Jack Russell's are truly an exception. They are tough and bred to chase critters and kill. I have spent hundreds of dollars ($600) trying to reprogram them at one of finest dog trainers in Seattle (Ahimsa), but thats how they roll. After the session with my dogs the dog trainers basically concluded there is nothing I can do but be active preventively. So I see them like flying kites. When you fly a kite you need to know the wind direction and velocity. You can steer the kites holding the leash, but you have to watch or they will twist up and crash. Watching kites glide through air is symbolic of freedom, or childhood happiness, or ___________(fill in blank). These two dogs on leashes fly along the ground like kites bouncing around in the blue. They dip, dive, turn, and if you don’t pay attention to other kites (dogs), they will be tangled (dog fight). It’s an active sport taking these dogs out for a walk.
People walk around with dogs unleashed saying; “oh my dogs are friendly”. Thats nice, but when a friendly dog comes over looking to sniff, play, and hang out, what they get is a full throat attack by JP and a hind attack from GG. How could such cute dogs be so crazy killers? These fox dogs were designed in England so you can blame the Brits! I keep a vigilant watch on these two. In a way they keep me grounded, from flying away. There are too many options when you’re on the road. Having dogs can reduce your options, good and sometimes bad.
Still, I love’m for every other reason. They are tough as nails and seem to be in a great mood at all times. They don’t need coffee. High octane on life. Fully charged and ready to plunder. Brings to mind Lady GaGa, Born This Way. Little Monsters. I need to understand dogs nature. They have accepted me as I am. Closest thing I’ve had to pure unconditional love in my lifetime (que the violins)
Having my coffee in the morning with sunshine surrounding me, day in front of me, 
a new camp spot in Tugman State Park. Very well maintained. Clean and natural. I feel good! 
Took dogs to dunes in evening after setting up camp and watched the sun go down at the Umpqua Lighthouse. Its easy to dismiss a sunset for being too ordinarily beautiful. This one was close to being that. However, there were two pencil clouds across the sun and they were lit up like tungsten filaments (how inspiring). They looked like doobies or some deco design. It was another cool painting by Mother Nature, something I’ve not quite seen before. If I could paint it like I feel it; well that’s the s___t. I’d like to give myself permission to occasionally swear in my blog since there are only a few ways to give these communications the necessary expression. 
If I wrote a poem about it would you go to sleep?  Would you read a poem about a sunset without swear words? Ok I’ll write one of each. You can decide which is more effective.
Pacific Sunset 
Burning eyeball.
eyelids on fire,
Watching consumers
Praise dance sing!


Now I'll write a poem with expletives added for artistic expression:
Pacific Sunset
Assglare eyeball.
Rim of fire,
Scorching consumers
Bitch cancer die!

If people don’t read it does it exist?
Ramblin’ Route statistics show an average of 100 people a day finding their way to Ramblin’ Route blog. Yet seldom does anybody COMMENT! My writing is either perfect and needs no improvement, lost in the vastness of cyberspace, needs a bump up in interest level, or something else. Truthfully, I have been bored with my own way of rattling off this dog poop. How can I penetrate the fucking layers of my mind? Who wants a simple surface description like everything is wonderful? Is that what this world is come to? So much going on in my head that dissipates as fast as it flashes.  Writing is like sneezing. You have to stop living to write.
Need to borrow memory skill from Kerouac. I guess he remembered all the details of his travels and wrote them down later. On the road was one rambling scroll typed out. I forget how long it was...30 feet?
Shall I describe my cracked tooth and filling that popped out? How long before it rots my gums? How long can I wait to see a dentist before it’s not possible to fix? What about Dental insurance plans?
Almost everywhere I’ve gone has been awesomely beautiful. Overwhelming beauty.  Now I need something ugly to enjoy. American stock market has crashed while I was walking on a fabulously beautiful beach. The only crashing I feel are ocean waves. Don’t even want to look at my stock portfolio. Laugh at the values we place on things. Its fun to blow money at the casino and let it  come and go like the tide. Just looked on my phone and the stock market is up 200 points after falling 300 yesterday.  Enjoying life, yet I cannot stop searching for hidden meanings. I want more meaning in life. Discovering truth by comparison can be satisfying.  
Should I just give up and dumb down? Seem to find lots of happy dumbed down. Do you want an answer here? Maybe you can find something here of value. I call it Ramblin' Route for a reason.
Washington beaches seem so much more PRIVATE than Oregon beaches.  How can anyone hog this beauty for themselves?  Maybe ‘owning nature’ gives meaning to these obese starving creatures. A counter-response to the fear of meaninglessness.
What is the meaning of fat?  Stored energy? Extra padding? Low resistance to temptation? Being fat is cool. Being what you are is cool.
I was in the casino pressing buttons on the slot machine for a few hours.
Felt like a rat in someone's scientific experiment. How long will he push the button with no reward? Push button. Push button now.  What signal will cause a hesitation?
More fun to win money than to lose but can’t think of anywhere I would want my white privileged dollars to go than back to Native Americans whom my ancestors committed genocide on. We relentlessly hear about the genocide of 6 million Jews in WW2. Yes, that was terrible. What about genocide of 50 million Native Americans killed over 4 decades? Just as adamantly we are not reminded of Native American genocide. Casino money gives back to the tribe as it allows tribe to improve conditions for its members. Sounds a little like white guilt.
Now I am headed into another incredible day. Going commando.
You know something? When you’re walking around with big balls they can get in the way. I hope going commando will take the pressure off down there.  
Took today to walk dogs, drive up forested hills above Lakeside, grocery shopping, and hanging loose. JP had a great swim. I let him splash for about half an hour and he was still going strong. Cookin’ up some thick slabs of peppered bacon. (Michael got me started on the bacon). Got a bad carton last week, it was all fat! No meat to be found! Watch out buying bacon from these charming country stores. 
Fried it up and ate the fat anyway, cooking it extra crispy. I hate to admit it but it was good! 
Todays bacon looks well balanced with meat and fat. Bought it in Newport at a larger market.
Bought a nicely done tie-dye shirt from tent on side of road. Tee-Crafter was from California. She once had a nice place in Ojai, she said; some 40 acres of paradise. Was pushed out by a new electrical plant. Friends she had who stayed are dead and dying of various cancers caused by the electrical plant. She looked to be my age, late 50s. I have a friend living there so am concerned with this news. Heads up Sylvia!
It’s a joy to listen to music, read, and doodle. Today is overcast so I’ll get the rig organized and ready to go south tomorrow to Coos Bay.