My last days in Long Beach weren't stressful, but they should have been. I didn't care, and took my time packing. When you pack to move, its not worth doing so unless you do it at the last minute. I mean, you need your computer. You need to wear your best clothes. Listen to music. Keep all your stuff for as long as you can hold on.
I was told we'd be leaving on the 12th, a Friday, but then J.D. turned it into the 10th, a Wednesday. Finally we left on the 11th, a Thursday. (There would be much obstacles to scheduling on this trip, and all I can ever to is to happily flow with it.) Fine compromise. Ominous day . . . 9/11.
My hair, unwashed. I rushed to finish my comics from the library - Y The Last Man and Alan Moore's Wildcats. I packed my books except for a pile to take on the road, and began my re-read Illuminatus (which I last re-read on the train to California three years ago). First I packed my media mail, two days before leaving. Tons of books and a few movies and cds; and also art and printed writings that I could fake as media mails. Heavy trip to the post office later, and I'm 150.00 poorer. Then at the last minute - before learning the last minute would be delayed a day - I shipped my clothes and computer and UPS wasn't the cheapest after all so it was another 200.00 post office to mail that shite. It all only just arrived at my mother's house recently.
I would have liked to have a party, but nobody wanted to come. Raven called me on the phone, and Jenn came down to Long Beach to visit. I said bye to Alex and Alan and Ramsey multiple times before leaving for real, and then one Thursday afternoon J.D. called me on my phone as he lay at my doorstep in a ridiculously tightly packed little Volvo.
And there was a cat! I didn't realize we'd be traveling with a cat the whole time. My allergies. Actually, Mia was a good cat and I got along well. Often times I find myself crashing at a friend's house with cats and I sneeze and such at first, horridly uncomfortable, but by the time I wake up I'm relatively cured. Some cats I can get used to, and Mia was indeed one of them. Even though she had to stay within the front seats the entire week-long trek, standing on my lap, meowing nicely, but few sicknesses.
We drove and drove and drove. 22 to 605 through Orange County (no LA-Hollywood pit stops unfortunately, no more goodbyes) to 10 through Riverside. Somewhere outside of Indio I had to use my food stamp EBT card to buy a hundred bucks worth of dry junk food, as it was my last chance within the state of California. And we switched off driving, and had to dig for local radio music and AM talk shows to sustain us. Funny story: first we had the portable CD player but we couldn't find batteries. Then when we found batteries we bloody couldn't find that CD player at all. J.D. is a DJ and had a million CDs and tons of music files on his computers/external hard drives, but no iPod/mp3 player. Although we could play from his laptop, and lovingly did (although it was burdensome on the passenger rider's lap), but then the plug-cigarette lighter didn't work and the laptop ran out of power too. Finally bought one at a Wal Mart in a small town in Texas (one of those super centers that take over the whole town, which I'd hate to shop at but its J.D.'s bag). Late into the trip, finally a music choice. J.D. played his four-hour mix, and I also enjoyed Infected Mushroom.
First state: Arizona. This route would introduce me to many new states. We went to J.D.'s dad and stepmom's beautiful home outside of Phoenix. It was cumfy at night, but in the day quite hot. An elegant house in the desert. Lots of lizards. Super-kind family who really wanted to feed the hell out of me.
Sometimes I'm uncomfortable around rich people. These people weren't that rich I suppose, but way more middle class than I'm used to and it really was a beautiful house. But lately I wasn't so uncomfortable around such people. In fact, the whole universe seemed on my side of late. Its hard to contextualize, but in certain regards there was no more anxiety, just a smooth riding of the synchronicity wave that brought me to Arizona in the first place. I had nice conversations with everyone, except maybe the bratty little sister, and they seemed to like me, and they even had cable TV which is a luxury I've missed for years now. Watched cartoons and the news mostly.
But the biggest obstacle of all: Hurricane Ike. Why must the very first time I ever stay in Texas I have to worry about hurricanes? Well these things always take longer than planned, though we planned as safely as possible, and decided to not even leave until late so we could specifically get there on Sunday when the storm might pass. Later we went to J.D.'s friend's place nearby, as I learned that almost all his friends are cat-people. Mia, who had a big problem not peeing on the road, got to use a litter box. It was cool to hang out for a bit around Phoenix but we didn't crash, and we checked the weather carefully, and then we began the long drawn-out drive to Texas.
Fourteen hours of endlessness. You hallucinate on the road. You truly do. J.D. dozed off next to me and I counted away the hours, one cigarette every :30, and begged for something decent to come on the radio. I became very grateful for decent reception of the plainest oldies station. Perspectives flattened, lights on billboards turned into cars. Clouds turned into trees. Sizes didn't make any sense. Four hours in and I had to wake my buddy up, tell him to drive.
In the morning we pulled into Fredericksburg, where cell phone reception was minimal, and drove through the small town desperate to communicate with Sarah to figure out how to get to her ranch. Somehow we made a connection, and she'd meet us in a corner, and then we waited a while and the cat walked around outside and then I met Sarah.
I don't really like nature. Its dull. Its a nice scenery to be sure, and then you're over it quick, and then I'm just bored. But I should embrace what I can, wherever I am, especially when letting go of control and going wherever I am taken. So the flow took me to a ranch in Fredericksburg and that's where I hung out the next two days. Sarah's parents were ridiculously nice, like many Middle America people on this trip (I'm so very not used to it), and fed the hell out of me. We all went hiking, and smoked cigarettes and other things, and observed the unique plants and animals and there was giant piles of cow shit everywhere. Sarah was nice, and I guess she used to be a raver chick back in her and J.D.'s college heyday but nowadays she seemed more nerdy and shy. Kind of an anime geek, and I can totally relate.
Fourteen hours of endlessness. You hallucinate on the road. You truly do. J.D. dozed off next to me and I counted away the hours, one cigarette every :30, and begged for something decent to come on the radio. I became very grateful for decent reception of the plainest oldies station. Perspectives flattened, lights on billboards turned into cars. Clouds turned into trees. Sizes didn't make any sense. Four hours in and I had to wake my buddy up, tell him to drive.
In the morning we pulled into Fredericksburg, where cell phone reception was minimal, and drove through the small town desperate to communicate with Sarah to figure out how to get to her ranch. Somehow we made a connection, and she'd meet us in a corner, and then we waited a while and the cat walked around outside and then I met Sarah.
I don't really like nature. Its dull. Its a nice scenery to be sure, and then you're over it quick, and then I'm just bored. But I should embrace what I can, wherever I am, especially when letting go of control and going wherever I am taken. So the flow took me to a ranch in Fredericksburg and that's where I hung out the next two days. Sarah's parents were ridiculously nice, like many Middle America people on this trip (I'm so very not used to it), and fed the hell out of me. We all went hiking, and smoked cigarettes and other things, and observed the unique plants and animals and there was giant piles of cow shit everywhere. Sarah was nice, and I guess she used to be a raver chick back in her and J.D.'s college heyday but nowadays she seemed more nerdy and shy. Kind of an anime geek, and I can totally relate.
We shot guns while drunk, my very virgin first, a .22 caliber rifle. We drove around the acrage in a beaten-up ol pickup truck which had a broken right door. I checked my email on their old computer, a priority. Observed the old Texan architecture. Ate fresh tomatoes. We watched Independence Day the first night while I was a bit altered-stated and I wouldn't shut up, deconstructing the hell out of it. J.D. went to his Grandma's the next day, and I switched up my luggage and stuff to her car.
I was kind of confused. Did Sarah live here? I wanted to go to Austin too. Turned out that Sarah was only here for the weekend and indeed lived in North Austin. After being fed homecooked meals yet again, we went down there. She drives really fast. Manual, something I still have yet to learn how to do.
J.D. had a ton of music stuff to do with his college buddies in Texas, and I was to crash at Sarah's place for the following two weeks. I depend so much on the kindness of acquaintances lately. To give me a floor and a roof, to buy me beers, to drive me around. Right now at this juncture in my life, though I very much make sure I make it up to people in gas money, I am quite a freeloader. But Karmic balance isn't about paying back the exact amount you were given to that particular individual, its about knowing that someday you'll do the same for someone else. That's why Raven lived with me for two months and didn't pay rent. That's why CouchSurfing is so great, to host and to surf (of which I've done exactly one time of both). That's why we all mooch off our parents and know that one day the next generation will do the same to us.
Anyways, the first night into a real city Sarah knew some friends going to a little redneck bar in North Austin, and I was invited along to play pool or whatever. Her friends were cool I suppose. One thing to note: while overall everywhere in America is pretty much the same there is one inherent difference between people in Austin and people in Hollywood. Sarah has a friend who's a professional drummer and toured with Poison recently. She was the one who mentioned it, and I hung out with the guy and he didn't name-drop at all. There is no question that if I was hanging out with musicians in Los Angeles they would casually bring up their amazing contacts within the first minute of conversation. There was definitely a different mindset here, though subtle, but to be appreciated.
Played pool, and I lost, as usual. Drank beers. Sarah got consecutively drunker. I met a black comedian there, and I got to talking to him, and he told me his dream to perform at the redneck bar: "I know its an all-white redneck bar, but I want all you guys to give me your best nigger jokes." Yeah, sometimes I love not being in the West Coast.
This guy really wanted to smoke out with us, and afterparty at Sarah's house, and after a few detours of waiting around in front of some ghetto house we all went to Sarah's and played guitars and chilled. I observed that bud in Texas is much crappier than in California. Dark and twiggy and rough, not the bright green smelly shit the Pacific Ocean accustoms one to. And that is 100% fine by me, because strong pot always freaks me out. It got later and later, and wasn't Sarah supposed to work in the morning? About 4:00 or 5:00 she kicked everyone out (except for me), and had to go to bed. "Isn't this a great introduction to Texas?" she boasted. To some degree, I suppose, but actually my whole life these last few years has nights like these in all sorts of cities, and honestly I wasn't that terribly impressed just yet.
I set up my stuff in guest room. Slightly awkward - Sarah sleeps naked and you have to go through her room to get to the bathroom at night. (Interjection: J.D. joked about me hooking up with her, and possibly staying in Texas indefinitely, and I sort of gave it serious thought. But, sleeping in the nude or not, she wasn't my type that way and we were just to be friends.) The next morning, hungover, Sarah called off work. She's a librarian by the way. It worked out for me at least, and now I got to have a guide for daytime Austin.
Woke up at noon and helped wash her car and went on some errands at the post office. She took me to a super-cool comic store. We went to a toy store near UT. Lots of cool stuff on Guadalupe near UT. Ate healthy Italian food. Neal Stephenson would be doing a book signing at a Book People the following week. Listened to Kimya Dawson and Connor Oberst and Tom Waits at the record store. The next day I discovered a truly amazing pad: Brave New Books; a conspiracy/9/11 Truther/Alex Jones/Ron Paul/Libertarian stronghold, and there was conversation there.And, oddly, there was no sign of Hurricane Ike damage. There would be all the way in Cincinnati, but nothing here. Just a cumfy breeze was commented upon. I rather dug Texas.
Then we went to famous 6th St where it was really hard to park. Right near the Congressional building (is it correct to label as 'Congressional building'?). I wonder how it is that this hipster Texan oasis just happened upon the Is there a link? So we hung around differing bars, watching blues music, and there were Miller Lite girls to give us more free booze. Truly, it was too much.
But I left too early. I didn't get to find MySpace friends. I didn't get to stalk Alex Jones. I didn't get to network with CouchSurfers. I did however, get to have my picture taken at the amazing Daniel Johnston mural of Jeremiah the theological frog, at the very last minute as J.D. whisked me off away. There was some drama between J.D. and Jessica, and he felt he had to go soon and whisk her off away.
It was unfortunate. Just as I was let loose on my own to wander the town by myself, taking the bus and reading Jodorowsky graphic novels, it wasn't meant to be. Expecting to stay for two weeks - and broke - I even applied online emailing my resume to a few places, just to work for a week, and one called me back! But I couldn't do it! So we repacked and said bye and had to go. I know I shall return one day. Austin is too cool not to.
We went all the way to the next town over (Belton or something it was called?), and then stayed the night there. Another of J.D.'s college friends, another cat-person, but it was great in that there was a quite a high novelty of intelligent conversation. His buddy Andrew had a lot to say on the subject of personal research into atheist philosophy and Judaism (even tried to bring me back into the fold), and his own direct experience of learning that secret society's invent their own history. I recommended he read Foucault's Pendulum. And, of course, all conspiracy theory researchers - and true philosophers - need to read Robert Anton Wilson.
There was much drinking and staying up late and even talk of suicide (why must the most intelligent people in the world be both depressed, and also college dropouts?). And I crashed early and J.D. crashed after me, and there was free food again, and then the real driving was to take place.He seemed impressed by me, a mere film school dropout, with my self-taught well-readness. People seem to think I'm smart for some reason. I don't know why.
J.D. was pulled over three times. He laughed it off, good for him, even as there was pot in the car and one time an open container (but a car that packed, nobody would search it and nobody did). I didn't get pulled over, just drove at cruise control 70mph. We ran out of gas at in the morning at a nowhere Arkansas hotel (hate to say I told you so but I told him to get gas the night before). I spent about 180.00 on gas, every other fillup. Drove through Bill Clinton's birthplace. Fretted over his cat not peeing. Went to Memphis' Beal street for waffles and such. J.D. went through Kentucky for the first time. Finally, my territory.
And then, after showing off the coolness of Louisville by highway, slowly but surely due North, 80 turns into 71, only a few more hours left, I thought it was early at midnight but actually I lost an hour in the timechange, and 1:00 AM there was the Cincinnati downtown beautiful cityscape. Home? I suppose I can call it that. And what did we find there?
Also, I learned that I am going to move to China soon.
I still haven't washed my hair.
I still haven't washed my hair.
----------------
August 29th, a Friday, Black Rock City:
It was good to see her though. There was minimal drama, and lots of love. But they had a lot to talk about and it wasn't for me to listen in too closely . . .
The next morning we stuffed into the Volvo, me driving and her on his lap. Went to Frisch's for breakfast. I inadvertently put my foot in my mouth when I told Jessica that she better treat J.D. right. I only wanted to be a friend, but this caused much doubt. Whateva
I got to my Mom's house, they had to go sign for a one-month apartment, and I was officially here!
Mom's house still had no power from the hurricane! Everywhere the streets are filled with rubble and tree branches. Who knew this city was so disastrous?
And its nice to visit Mom and my little little sister every once in a while, but its a bit hellish to be here indefinitely. Hugs around, then the novelty ends, and its constant bickering. Every morning I sleep at 4:00 and am waken up by arguing at 8:00. Nowhere to go but to walk to the library to read and to use the internet. When Mom works I can't use her car. Nobody wants to come here. Kenwood/Madeira drains my soul. Fuck it though, I won't let it succeed, and this is my philosophy right now.
But I don't care. I refuse to be depressed. Even among all the mosquitoes, I refuse to let it get me down. Its interesting, after the mystical experience described above I haven't felt that hollowness the way I used to everyday. The 3D world is screaming at me to fall into despair, because I am a loser and everything sucks, and I just cannot muster the reaction to take it seriously anymore. I may be surrounded by crazy immigrants I am related to, old friends are recovering junkies, I have no money, and yet the universe remains such a joke I find it so obvious that it will work out just fine.
Well, the first few nights out and everybody bought me beer. Hung out with my cousin, saw old friends (some recovering junkies), and had conversations at bars. Jeremy and Randolf's mansion. Randolf's music show. The beautiful Jen drove me around. I talked to her about children. Chloe doesn't want to communicate with me. Talked to Zac on the phone. Seeing Trevor was trippy. Seeing Joel is cool but sad. J.D. had a dj gig already and Jen took me to a little rave in downtown. Cousin Leah drove me around and wasn't feeling the party scene at all. I got a girl's phone number at the hipster bar in Northside (and what am I to do with it?). And so on and so forth. Guess I could write a more detailed play-by-play schedule of each little subadventure but I don't really feel like it.
Overall, Cincinnati is on the up-and-up. Just a microcosm of LA, and everybody hates it here just like there. But all cities in America are pretty much the same, I can assure you, and I've checked this very thoroughly. This is just as good a place as any. Just not for me, right now.
Many people I know are doing great. Some aren't. They are evolving. They are paranoid. The world seems to be coming under (must I repeat the news?), but that's no excuse to not do well.
Currently I am doing very little. I argue with my sister to use the computer. I ignore the chaos field of my family. And my credit score is very terrible, and I refuse to give a fuck.
I am re-reading Illuminatus! and the Invisibles concurrently and this no doubt contributes to my naive assurance of the world as illusion.
Do not worry that I am lost. I prefer being lost.
Feminist critique of his-story states that the male experience of orgasm has led us into this lifestyle of preparation-to-goal-to-resolution-to death, and then repeat the Jesus process all over again. But Alan Watts has a Zen perspective that maybe life is more like a dance, with no particular goal in mind but a flow all the way . . .
Do you see what I'm getting at?
Everything is pretty cool in the universe. There is nothing worth taking seriously.
It is all arbitrary. It is all fun.
We must all move to China every once in a while, and disconnect. And reconnect. And we'll all make it big if only we'd allow ourselves to. Its difficult, but its also easier than you may think.
Just smile, you're in hell, and you've finally figured out how to work it.
Does information lead to wisdom? Maybe. Or maybe I'm just stupid.
;)
I was having a mystical experience in the desert and I met a guy at a firepit. He told me he lived in China for a while. I asked him how he went about that . . . and if I could ever do the same. Needed contact information.
"Can we get this man a pen, so I can ship him to China? Seriously!"
September 19th, a Thursday, on the road in some godforsaken state that I don't recall:
Still haven't washed my hair since the mystical experience, but the playa dust now long dried out, and I'd been emailing some Chinese people about the possibility of teaching English in Shenzhen. Emailed my resume, sent my number, answered questions. And then I got an overseas phone call.
"Hello is this Ray He-ch-t?"
Talked for about a half-hour about the program. To teach small children. Don't need to know Mandarin or Cantonese. Not a lot of pay, but lower price of living. Room and board payed. The economy is doomed here and you know it; move to Asia.
Okay!
And the following week was a week of bureaucracy, of mailing my passport to a travel agency in San Francisco, getting visas, figuring out flight times, reimbursements and such, and finally its all confirmed.
Perhaps I shall live in Asia not just for the four-month semester but indefinitely, and nomadically travel and work where I can. Put the novelist thing on hold. Lean a bunch of languages. Pretend I'm Christopher Doyle (look him up), cuz it seemed to work for him finely.
So far this works out very well, because honestly I cannot bloody stand being at my Mom's house.
You ever get in that ambitious conversation while drunk/fucked up. "Yeah, let's do this!" And then you inevitably never get around to doing it. Well this time I got around to doing it . . .
And this is Riding the Synchronicity Wave, for I have let go of control in my life. I must allow whatever will be to just occur, and enjoy the ride. No expectations. No structure. No plans. Unless the universe wants to figure it out for me.
And if J.D. didn't cut our trip short I would still be in Texas and this may not have worked out.
See. The cosmos knows what its doing. The Buddha always provides.
Anyways, the first night in I tried to show J.D. that Cincinnati could be a cool city. The downtown lights were good for my argument. And then we went to Hamilton to go to Jessica's. Butler County, I assure you, is no kind of example for anything. Poor Jessica."Can we get this man a pen, so I can ship him to China? Seriously!"
September 19th, a Thursday, on the road in some godforsaken state that I don't recall:
Still haven't washed my hair since the mystical experience, but the playa dust now long dried out, and I'd been emailing some Chinese people about the possibility of teaching English in Shenzhen. Emailed my resume, sent my number, answered questions. And then I got an overseas phone call.
"Hello is this Ray He-ch-t?"
Talked for about a half-hour about the program. To teach small children. Don't need to know Mandarin or Cantonese. Not a lot of pay, but lower price of living. Room and board payed. The economy is doomed here and you know it; move to Asia.
Okay!
And the following week was a week of bureaucracy, of mailing my passport to a travel agency in San Francisco, getting visas, figuring out flight times, reimbursements and such, and finally its all confirmed.
Perhaps I shall live in Asia not just for the four-month semester but indefinitely, and nomadically travel and work where I can. Put the novelist thing on hold. Lean a bunch of languages. Pretend I'm Christopher Doyle (look him up), cuz it seemed to work for him finely.
So far this works out very well, because honestly I cannot bloody stand being at my Mom's house.
You ever get in that ambitious conversation while drunk/fucked up. "Yeah, let's do this!" And then you inevitably never get around to doing it. Well this time I got around to doing it . . .
And this is Riding the Synchronicity Wave, for I have let go of control in my life. I must allow whatever will be to just occur, and enjoy the ride. No expectations. No structure. No plans. Unless the universe wants to figure it out for me.
And if J.D. didn't cut our trip short I would still be in Texas and this may not have worked out.
See. The cosmos knows what its doing. The Buddha always provides.
----------------
It was good to see her though. There was minimal drama, and lots of love. But they had a lot to talk about and it wasn't for me to listen in too closely . . .
The next morning we stuffed into the Volvo, me driving and her on his lap. Went to Frisch's for breakfast. I inadvertently put my foot in my mouth when I told Jessica that she better treat J.D. right. I only wanted to be a friend, but this caused much doubt. Whateva
I got to my Mom's house, they had to go sign for a one-month apartment, and I was officially here!
Mom's house still had no power from the hurricane! Everywhere the streets are filled with rubble and tree branches. Who knew this city was so disastrous?
And its nice to visit Mom and my little little sister every once in a while, but its a bit hellish to be here indefinitely. Hugs around, then the novelty ends, and its constant bickering. Every morning I sleep at 4:00 and am waken up by arguing at 8:00. Nowhere to go but to walk to the library to read and to use the internet. When Mom works I can't use her car. Nobody wants to come here. Kenwood/Madeira drains my soul. Fuck it though, I won't let it succeed, and this is my philosophy right now.
But I don't care. I refuse to be depressed. Even among all the mosquitoes, I refuse to let it get me down. Its interesting, after the mystical experience described above I haven't felt that hollowness the way I used to everyday. The 3D world is screaming at me to fall into despair, because I am a loser and everything sucks, and I just cannot muster the reaction to take it seriously anymore. I may be surrounded by crazy immigrants I am related to, old friends are recovering junkies, I have no money, and yet the universe remains such a joke I find it so obvious that it will work out just fine.
Well, the first few nights out and everybody bought me beer. Hung out with my cousin, saw old friends (some recovering junkies), and had conversations at bars. Jeremy and Randolf's mansion. Randolf's music show. The beautiful Jen drove me around. I talked to her about children. Chloe doesn't want to communicate with me. Talked to Zac on the phone. Seeing Trevor was trippy. Seeing Joel is cool but sad. J.D. had a dj gig already and Jen took me to a little rave in downtown. Cousin Leah drove me around and wasn't feeling the party scene at all. I got a girl's phone number at the hipster bar in Northside (and what am I to do with it?). And so on and so forth. Guess I could write a more detailed play-by-play schedule of each little subadventure but I don't really feel like it.
Overall, Cincinnati is on the up-and-up. Just a microcosm of LA, and everybody hates it here just like there. But all cities in America are pretty much the same, I can assure you, and I've checked this very thoroughly. This is just as good a place as any. Just not for me, right now.
Many people I know are doing great. Some aren't. They are evolving. They are paranoid. The world seems to be coming under (must I repeat the news?), but that's no excuse to not do well.
Currently I am doing very little. I argue with my sister to use the computer. I ignore the chaos field of my family. And my credit score is very terrible, and I refuse to give a fuck.
I am re-reading Illuminatus! and the Invisibles concurrently and this no doubt contributes to my naive assurance of the world as illusion.
Do not worry that I am lost. I prefer being lost.
Feminist critique of his-story states that the male experience of orgasm has led us into this lifestyle of preparation-to-goal-to-resolution-to death, and then repeat the Jesus process all over again. But Alan Watts has a Zen perspective that maybe life is more like a dance, with no particular goal in mind but a flow all the way . . .
Do you see what I'm getting at?
Everything is pretty cool in the universe. There is nothing worth taking seriously.
It is all arbitrary. It is all fun.
We must all move to China every once in a while, and disconnect. And reconnect. And we'll all make it big if only we'd allow ourselves to. Its difficult, but its also easier than you may think.
Just smile, you're in hell, and you've finally figured out how to work it.
Does information lead to wisdom? Maybe. Or maybe I'm just stupid.
;)
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