I am currently typing this article in Flagstaff, Arizona. I am wearing a battered up leather jacket and a skank wrapped round my neck saturated with desert. We hit hit the road less than a week ago, cramming five odd ball cats into a small New Hampshire truck. We alternate three of us up front, two sprawled the truck bed among our frame packs, the bookstore, and our gear.
The landscape from Tucson to Flagstaff molts and changes with the time it takes to stub out a cigarette. We began in desert herped with cactus and scorpions, making way through six lanes of Phoenix ashes, up thru Sedona and its empty blood hills and valleys, before coming into a vast pine forests wearing the shadows of mountains and the old America vibe glow of Route 66.
Books & Shovels has accumulated new publication since our relaunch at the Tucson Poetry Festival, and our shelves are continuing to grow on our journey.
Once the timer on this public library computer kicks me off, we shoot to the Grand Canyon for a campfire wine rumpus of sorts. Following the Canyon, we make way for the faux sparkle lust of Vegas.
We’ll continue posting updates as we make our way up to the Bay Area, photos of our adventures, and film from performances / funky campfire gatherings.