travels

On Friday I had to wake up early to drive Alan to the bus stop in Downtown LA so he could go visit his family for the week. His car now drivable, for me, with him out of town, I thought of the places I could go ... I danced around the possibility of seeking about the East LA for chemical experience purchases. Opiates for happiness, or amphetamines for productivity. I suppose it’s an easy conclusion to draw that this is not good idea, but why do I not deserve a few hours of happiness every once in a while? And, more importantly, I need the energy to stay up for a few days and catch up on my self-imposed writing projects. My self-imposed deadline is coming up, and I’m self-imposed stressed.

I don’t really know what I’m doing with this sort of thing, so after driving around aimlessly and failing to eye a drug dealer I soon gave up, and drove to Echo Park for coffee. I called Raven, and met her in Hollywood for an empty breakfast. I wasn’t going to buy anything at a restaurant when I had an EBT card offering free food. Hung out with her and boyfriend Brian for a while. He’s cool enough. Talked about conspiracy theories and psychedelics. Evidently, they can’t get me any acid and Brian doesn’t believe in David Icke.

The day before I met up with Raven briefly at the WOW art gallery show. It was a loud video game-themed show show, bizarre and 8-bit and somewhat fun, even though there was a long line for my friends. I got in a bit early though, when James St. James noticed me. But it was too crowded and partying for meeting anyone and having a conversation, not even worth the time for gay minor celebrities. Outside in the front with the smokers was nice, but it was one-way in or out, so to meet the interesting cats it wasn’t worth the finalized risk until late at night.

It was far nicer to hang out with Raven in the daytime. I love driving her around Hollywood and talking about nothing. That’s friendship. I gave her a ride back to the art gallery, and I talked to James St. James about New York for a bit. I took Raven to Staples on an errand. I talked about old video games with some guy. But I had to go eventually, and I gave Raven my heart-wrenching goodbyes. I’m going to move soon and probably won’t see her for many months, if not years, and it might be an end. But then again, I know we have a deep connection and I have the strong impression that we will keep in touch forever. I’ve made very few real friends during my time in California, but this girl is one of the best.

While in the city trying to figure out what to do, I suddenly got a spontaneous text from Nancy. She asked me to go to San Diego with her. I was thrown off. I hadn’t seen her in a long time, but it was somewhat good timing because I’m leaving soon and won’t get another chance to see her. I thought about going to the gym this weekend, and catch up on reading and do some damn writing, But fuck all that productive nonsense. When life offers you minor adventures, I concluded, you should do it.

I went back to Long Beach and showered and watched cartoons, and then Nancy called me and picked me up. It had been a while, and she was as cute as ever. We drove a few hours through Orange County into San Diego County and eventually in La Jolla we met up with her boyfriend Chris at California Pizza Kitchen. And I spent money I shouldn’t have. I happen to think Chris is a complete douche and very much wrong for her, but I try to be hospitable and not mention it. He’s the enemy of my Indigo people, a law student who only plays video games and has no creative taste in anything. I hate when girls date lower than them. She could do so much better. And also, it’s extremely awkward with our history. I mean, I’ve seen her naked. Does he know this? I ain’t telling him, and I’ll be Platonic friends with her, but I do find it weird when Nancy wants me to hang out with him. Well, we bought hair dye spontaneously and she wanted me to dye her hair (why wouldn’t her boyfriend help?). But I wanted to do other things while in San Diego. I promised we’d do it early tomorrow. Chris’s small apartment was in downtown SD small, and his roommate had the cutest Welsh Corgi. And, douche that Chris is, he hates the dog and doesn’t feel close to it all. I liked the dog a lot. And I had to go.

I called Jessica, Ohio friend that lives here, and she was happy to pick me up. Her crowd is far more interesting than the horde of rich Asian UCSD students Nancy hangs out with. Jessica was late, and San Diego has far too many highways, but when she finally found the place and picked me up we had a lot of good conversation. She’s going through a lot of spiritual experiences lately, and while I’m skeptical I am very curious to know more. Mostly her one-ness of the universe has revolved around the smokable nibbana of Salvia Divinorum. Jessica, and her very cool boyfriend J.D., are always happy to smoke me up. I really looked forward to the new experience. At their apartment in North Park there were a few people over, drinking and playing J.D.’s mixes, and it was quite fun. I don’t like pot so much, but J.D. gave me some crystallized hash and it was a good high. An interesting body buzz, and for the most part my mind was still sharp. I can’t stand being confused and stupid, but I’m open trying everything and its rude not to accept when offered, and this one wasn’t bad.

Later that night arrived a girl named Joy. She was also from Cincinnati but I never knew her before. Moderately cute, but a bit heavier than I’d prefer, but definitely much the hottest girl at the party who wasn’t taken. The night carried on with conversation and further synchronicities. Highly amazing perfection: I knew that Jessica was moving back to Ohio but I didn’t realize J.D. was going on a roadtrip next month to follow suit. And he mentioned going to Austin. “Really?” I was planning on hitchhiking to Texas on the way to Cincinnati as well. “New Orleans next,” I said. “Really?!” He was going the same route too, and a week after me in mid-September! J.D. he invited me to join him on the road. I was overwhelmed. Sometimes in the lowest point in your life it can be so perfect the way the Buddha provides. I’ve only known J.D. a short time, and I’m very fond of him, and this kindness is completely overwhelming. And he appreciates simply having a companion on this long American trek. Couldn’t be more perfect.

So, me and Joy grew closer as the night progressed. As suggested to me by my recent attraction research - I teased her, I acted cool, I was touchy against her skin, I played up my social status, and late into the night we found ourselves sitting on the stairs outside smoking cigarettes when I put my hand around her shoulder and made a move. I wasn’t so cool though, I was horridly nervous and shakey. She told me to relax. Our mouths melted together. I’ve been on a terribly lonely spell, and admit to not having actually kissed a girl in six months time (and it’s been longer since sex). I needed this so bad. We went inside and laid on the too-small couch and made out for hours. I love the taste of cigarette ash on lips. I got very hard, and she could feel it through my tight pants. “I’m so turned on by you,” she whispered. There were others in the room, so things could only progress so much, but without undressing and as subtle as possible she put her hand down my pants. Amazing, amazing night. I put my hands under her clothes and felt the crack of her ass and nipples under her bra and then all the way to down her scratchy wet slit. I bit her neck and left a mark, and she did the same to me. She nobly tried to pump me to orgasm. I love the feeling of fingernails all over my bare crotch. I love nudging my teeth against lip. The feel of skin against skin is the essential human connectivity and it’s a shame it doesn’t occur more often. But, all too often it can be so weird and uncomfortable if the conditions aren’t perfect. Hard as stone as I was, I just couldn’t get off with other people in the room. I was way too nervous.

Around 6:00 AM she had to leave with her friends. I regret so much. I could have very easily gotten laid, but I didn’t even ask to go to her place. I just assumed I should stay at Jessica’s. Plus, and this was a valid point, I very much wanted to smoke Salvia the next day. But dammit, I should have just lived in the moment and not thought about the future. It was already obvious that I would be very late to meet with Nancy the next day. Time didn’t matter. I should have pushed harder to somehow find some privacy with Joy. Well, I did get her phone number, and I did call the next day, but to no avail. Ah well, I am grateful for all the love I have been given, and have no right to ask for any more.

The next afternoon I awoke on the couch, alone, gross, and uncomfortable. I hadn’t been sleeping good lately. We hung around, and they made breakfast, and flies buzzed, but I skipped eating. If I was to trip out, best to do so on an empty stomach. It was time to sit comfortably, focus, and J.D. prepared me a rather intense hit, and I smoked two stinky puffs on the bong, and the world went inward.

Salvia is like an evil ego version of DMT. You trip very hard and very fast, but unfortunately you are still in your body. For me at least, it wasn’t like dimetheltrytamine when I was flying somewhere else disconnected from this reality. I was still inside myself, and it felt so disgusting. My tight pants were dirty and sticky and rotten, and I wanted to throw them off (luckily I didn’t; I wasn’t wearing underwear). I immediately started seeing things reproducing into a kind of scales. The whole universe flipped into geometricities. I saw McDonalds logos. Red and scaley. I could open my eyes and see these strange humans staring at me (it was only them), and I forgot where I was. Salvia is weird in that you forget you did it, and I assumed that I was freaking out on simple pot high and felt very stupid for it. I was struck with an immediate horror of self-consciousness, as I struggled not to embarrass myself. I was terrified that everyone would laugh at me. I was terrified that I couldn’t control myself. I couldn’t handle it. I mean, nobody cares and this was indeed a totally nurturing environment, but I have this problem with letting go. I didn’t fall in enough. I wished so much that I prepared better. When I realized what was happening, I hid under the covers. I sat in the lotus position. I thought maybe I was supposed to have some kind of Zen enlightenment, and prayed for it, but I didn’t come close. I closed my eyes and tried to focus on the pixel-digital pattern forming before me, but it was so intense and horrifying that I could only find myself counting down until it was over with. I told myself to count to a hundred and just wait it out. I only counted to fifteen. Jessica came and held my hand as my skull fell down and I breathed heavily. It’s very important to have someone hold your hand and tell you its going to be okay in these situations. I appreciate it so much. Eventually I found the courage to open my eyes and my heartbeat finally slowed down, and I at last was back in some semblance of normal reality.

So what do I do with this knowledge? The world is made out of geometric patterns. I kind of already knew it, but now I have experienced it. So now what? I desperately need to do this again under more ideal conditions. Do an hour of yoga firsthand. Shower first. Be in a nature environment, even nude if necessary, and connect to the trees as opposed a connection with computers. My mind was buzzing quick, and my knees were jumping, and I struggled to verbalize these feelings. I thought I’d simply go on a trip for fifteen minutes and be on my way somewhere else by mid-afternoon, but instead it was necessary to follow up with at least an hour of conversation. I was very late in meeting up with Nancy. There was much philosophy to go over. And meanwhile, the illusionary real world beckoned.

Hugs and rides and hash brown breakfast later, I got a ride back to downtown SD. It was so boring at Chris’s. I was required to stay with them for the duration, but I wish that I got my own ride and could have spent the majority of the time with more like-minded people. It was fun to dye Nancy’s hair though, a dark red that barely came out over her jet black Asian hair. There was half a bottle left, so we went ahead decided to dye my hair too. At least now my grey hairs are gone (of which I probably gained many during the Salvia experience). I showered, and Chris wouldn’t lend me any clean jeans, and then we went to the most boring mall in the world. We ate at Cheesecake factory to meet with her UCSD friends. I didn’t fit in, but I tried to be hospitable. I certainly need to be less judgmental, and patronizing with the occasional bourgeoisie straights couldn’t hurt. Again, I spent money that I shouldn’t have.

Afterwards we all went to a Korean karaoke club, which was a bit more fun. It was an authentic karaoke bar, like the one I went to in Japan years ago, where you rent out a room with your friends and the television screen plays discorporate footage from Asian TV dramas. Really, I prefer karaoke when its about pretending you’re a star with strangers at a bar. Though they didn’t have a good selection, I looked up a few and sang Let it Be, and Anarchy in the UK, and some others. I flirted with Nancy, my only friend there, and she made fun of my singing, and meanwhile Chris’s eyes burned me with resentment ...

Raven called me halfway through. She was freaking out while high and needed me to assure her that she wasn’t being mind-controlled by the government. Social control is much more prevalent and dangerous, I told her, and the primate political patterns that filter our worldview are far more deep than any technologies the Cryptocratic authority structure could ever muster. Social deconditioning is the only solution, I argued. But even still, never ever let them get to you. Never let fear take you over. And I talked some more, about my own Salvia experience, and Andy Warhol, and art, and love, and why we’re so weird, and it was a great conversation. I was saved from these other people for a whole half-hour. Please, call me any time when you’re in a schizophrenic nightmare and I’m happy to listen.

On the late drive back Nancy and Chris were arguing. It was all over petty nothingness, but the obvious subtext is that they were fighting over me and my presence. Awkwardness took a new level while I hid in the back seat. I hated being there. I wished Nancy would ditch him and we could go somewhere else. I still don’t understand what mindgames Nancy was playing by inviting me to hang out with her boyfriend in the first place. If only I could be anywhere else. Back at their place I heard mutterings of hatred in the night emanating from their room, and I couldn’t hear the details and didn’t want to know. I played video games, played with the dog, and had another uncomfortable night’s sleep.

Woke up early. I offered to drive. Nancy was supposed to drop me off Long Beach first, but the timing was off. She was to have lunch with her family far away, near West Covina or somewhere. So instead it was worked out that we should go all the way out there and I’d wait around while she ate and just go to Long Beach later. (If you knew Southern California, you’d realize how ridiculous all this driving is.) Made it just in time, and I hung out at an Asian neighborhood for a few hours. I had some coffee at Burger King. I read some Sartre. I listened to my iPod. Raven called me again. I was bored, and sat next to a tree to read, and eventually I fell asleep. Foreshadowing my inevitable future, I slept outside for an hour until I was kicked out by a security guard. I was so tired.

Finally we went back to Long Beach. Nancy was open to hanging out for a while, and we watched Youtube movies on my computer. I introduced her to Ramsey and then Jenn came over. It was the first time I saw Jenn since I wrote her a very nasty suicide email, but anyways she seemed cool. Writing mean letters is my literary specialty. Nancy was tired, and asked to take a twenty minute nap in my room. When I went to wake her up, all confident from my making out night on Friday, I sat next to her and put my arm on her and lied there and felt her beautiful breath. It was so perfect. She awoke. I went in for a kiss. And she turned away and softly said, “no.” I shouldn’t have done that. I tried again. Still no. I truly shouldn’t have done that.

She should be mad at me. I don’t get it. I don’t understand anything. I wish she would either love me or hate me, but I don’t know how to handle a perpetual lukewarm friendship. Still she wanted to hang out. All four of us walked to a coffee shop and had tea and talked about such subjects as urine-powered automobiles. Eventually Nancy left, on the long drive alone back to the Valley. We hugged. I probably won’t see her again for a very long time, if ever.

I relaxed for awhile, and promised to hang out with Edward later this Sunday, so we drove Alan’s car to Cypress. Ramsey and Jenn came. I had to give Edward notes on his novel-in-process that I’d been hoarding for a while, and met up with him at his grandma’s place, and I bought a pint of cheap whiskey. The best kind to buy. I was sick of hanging out the coffee shop in Cypress all the time, so we parked at Home Depot and walked around dreary Orange County. We were lit up by moonlight. Talked about literature, and the future, and theology, and argued over whether Vonnegut or P.K. Dick is better. Edward is the only other real friend I’ve made in California. Just like Raven, he’s from somewhere else. I got really drunk. I probably won’t see him for a long time either. I have absolute assurance that we will keep in touch forever.

Ramsey drove on the way back, as I was fucking plastered. I was supposed to write that night. I have so much to do, but I was all fucked and just went to sleep. Had to wake up early for a three-day office gig from this temp agency the next day. I slept little, another sweaty night, and powered by coffee I commenced to drive to Torrance. This job sucked so much. Quite a hellish experience, it turned out to be nothing but stuffing envelopes for nine hours straight. But I listened to my iPod, and read magazines, and read the new Wonder Woman too. Perhaps that’s why I was the slowest one there. The two other kids there were the perfect envelope-stuffing trained monkeys. I went to Wal Mart on break to buy Burning Man supplies, which turned out to be a terrible idea and didn’t buy anything. How I despise Wal Mart. I also learned that Weinerschnitzel is a bad place for vegetarians to eat. The next few work days at home were spent forsaking the productive to watch Netflix movies: I watched Juno and Persopolis, of which I liked the latter a lot more.

The next day they took me aside and asked my why I was going so slow. 16,000 envelopes to stuff over three days and I did far less than my third. The other two kids there were such perfect worker bees. Sit still and stuff stuff stuff and they don’t seem to have brains at all. The next day I was told not even to come in. At least I get paid for two days, but I could have used that other third day of pay. I do not understand the world. I do not understand how to be a productive member of this shit. I seem not to have a survival instinct. I try so hard, but not hard enough evidently, and it never works. If only I could fully disconnect from this game. There’s a whole psychedelic creative universe out there, I’ve seen it, and yet we are told to go to school and go to work and that’s all there is.

Now I have to organize what to do with my life. I have to pack up my room. I have to mail everything I own. I have to prepare for Burning Man. I have to get camping supplies. I have to finish my novel, and some other scripts, and to draw as well. I have to bloody get ready to move to the other side of the country in two weeks. I’ve done none of this. Nothing. I have so much to do, and most of the time I do nothing. The story of my life.

I suppose it’s been interesting times lately, but I cannot help but feel hollow on occasion. I like to travel, but rarely do I seem to ever make it to any destination. Hence I wander. And still I travel.

Topsy-Turvy-Nothingness

June started out stressful with roommate drama right off the bat. I thought it was going to be cool that a couple was going to move in, _____ and _________, and that makes two roommates so therefore rent would have been that much cheaper. But then they broke up and it was drama ever since. Probably all my fault, all the pressure I gave them by presenting the opportunity to move in together. They went back and forth forever, first _____ backed out and it would have been only _________, and then the opposite - therefore I needed to find a third roommate quick if I was going to continue to pay cheap rent. Just tricky to find someone cool with a living room situation.

____ was lingering for a week, and that was fine, but his situation with his friends finding a place in LA near the studios didn't work out and he was going back to his folks soon. But in a monumental luckery that I don't deserve, he left his car here and said I could use it for the rest of the month. Helped out with getting to work for sure. I called this other guy - ____, a Russian - who was next on my list and at the last minute it worked out and he moved in. But then _________, who already paid, said that her ex would be the one to move in instead. He had no job and she already paid; and sadly I had to be an asshole and stick up for my own financial stability, and I made an ultimatum that neither would move in and I'd have to find someone else

Then suddenly ______ decided to move in! My world has been topsy-turvy ever since. He texted me mysteriously one day in the early dates of July - "Hey you still need a roommate?" "Like next month?" I responded. "In two days," he answered. Hmmm . . . I thought. Maybe just maybe this would work out. He met me after work one day in the horrible heat of dead Cypress, Orange County. How surreal. There was ______, my boy since high school, except with his head shaved, and he had a big clunky van leaking transmission fluid but my bike fit inside it nicely.

We checked out the beach in Huntington, and came back to my place where he got along with ____ and ____, and then he showered, and then immediately the first night we checked out Hollywood. _______ told me about a bar, but by the time we got there she was leaving, and we went to another bar for karaoke. I did White Stripes and then Bob Dylan, it was pretty great. And ______ walked around Hollywood and realized that it's just the same as any other hip urban scene in America. "Everywhere is everywhere," he said, and I do concur. And we put two more things of transmission fluid in his big clunky van, and drove back to Long Beach, and slept on my floor.

The next day was Saturday and we decided to go to San Diego. ______'s friend _______ just moved there a few days ago and we figured we'd visit. I only donated twenty bucks to gas, but still I joined him. And as ______ has now discovered, everywhere in Southern California is much farther than you'd think. San Diego wasn't a bad two-hour drive, and we did get to use the carpool lane, except when got lost in downtown San Diego for a bit. That's really the only part of SD that I know, via Comic Con, but soon we got to _______'s boyfriend's apartment and I learned of new parts. Firstly though, we got really really high. I hate that I keep doing this. They had some good weed, and I hate how I am always offered good pot and I can't handle it. I'd rather get shitty pot. THC just doesn't work with me; other drugs certainly do, but not this one. I am curious as to why everyone else seems to love pot so much, but I always have bad experiences again and again. Next time I am offered I will experiment with sobriety, and see how I act around a bunch of high folks. ______ though, who I've never seen high before, was at the pinnacle of comedic sponteneousness. Good for him I guess. To me he turned into a surreal cartoon character, betwixt the fake TV landscapes of the city, and again I reiterate that I just didn't like it. I embarrassed myself while we were driving, my perspective all off, and I yelled "NO OH GOD YOU'RE GOING TO HIT THAT CAR!" at a simple parking backing up. I felt pretty stupid. I'm just too self-conscious for downers.

So we went with _______'s boyfriend, who seems a cool guy, to Normal Park or somewhere, and I was unable to communicate. Everyone was talking about smart shit and I had no idea what. It was like being a stupid little kid. I danced at the bar for a bit, it was a daze, and thoughts went swam thru my head too fast to catch. While they ate a restaurant I ended up passed out in the car vibrating at too high a frequency for any kind of fun. Then I slept on their couch, ______ on the floor, and so on.

Next day we decided to go to Mexico. I kind of wanted to go to a Erik Davis event in LA, kind of in a hurry to get back, but oh well this was presented and I went with it. Last time I was in Tijuana was with ______ a year back, and it was rather awesome then, and here I was again. I didn't bring my passport though, and ______ didn't even have one, but we were assured it was no big deal. Later on when walked thru gates I was asked "Are you American?" "Yeah," I said, and was let in. It was pretty easy. As long as you're white, transport is simple.

We went to some bars, cheap booze, I got absinthe too, rode on an electric bull, and walked the perverted alleyways of Revolucian. I really dig Tijuana. It's like, reality. America is the fake version of the world, this is the real undiluted anarchic madness that the rest of the planet has to deal with. Everyone yelling at you to buy shit, sex for sale on the street with no hidden qualms, everybody sincerely wants to sell you drugs (I didn't buy anything though), pharmacias at every streetcorner, and fake jewelry to buy for your loved ones. I love it.

I felt bad that we were hanging out with girls, but still we went to the strip clubs. Such vulgarity. "No cover charge!" we were assured, "and free margaritas for the ladies!" Ugly Mexican chicas displaying it all, guts and tits and pussy, and for barely no money! It's disgusting. It's real. It's humanity. Let us be honest about. So we drifted to a few more places, usually at my insistence but nobody else argued. No guilt. I cut myself off from the direct obvious sort of whoredom though, and I never did get a massage. Next time I go, I promise to myself, I shall not leave without an orgasm. Somehow or another . . .

Meanwhile, the weekday comes and I have to work. On Monday there was a meeting about how nobody is allowed to screw around on the internet anymore. I didn't really listen, but I cut back a little bit. Tried to minimize windows, keep my youtube bullshit to myself, not get in trouble. But mostly I just did whatever I want. My philosophy on rules and authority is to politely nod and say you'll behave from now on, and then when the boss isn't looking go do whatever you want. I mean, shit, I still got my work done. I simply googled superhero trivia and political columns inbetween. Data entry is soul-crushing anyways, I can't handle taking it too seriously. Glad to be a productive member of society.

When I returned the money to my estranged non-roommate _________, wrote a 300 dollar check, I then needed ______ to pay me for the room and board. We went to the US Bank across the street and then it turned out he had like a hundred bucks in the bank. Shit. Lesson kids: don't drive cross-country in a big van and expect to have money when you get there. So I guess he'll owe me 270 eventually, and its cool, but I really do need the money eventually. He's getting a job, so I've heard, and I'm sure it'll all work out, but it's still a bit worrisome.

On Thursday we took the bus to downtown LBC to meet at a couchsurfing.com party I heard about online. ____ joined us. I thought it was somehow related to the art walk thing they do here from time to time, and we walked around for a bit. I was wrong, thinking of the downtown LA art walk that was on Thursday, while Long Beach's is on Saturday. Nonetheless, I already committed to a psychedelic adventure. I'd been sitting on this eighth of mushrooms for a week or so, waiting for a fun opportunity to look at pictures and interact with people. For the first hour nothing happened and I was disappointed. But while sitting around at the wine bar I started acting stupid. It got wavy, but it in a fun way. Unlike pot I was able to keep my composure, and though the world got really fucking weird, I could still mumble something equivalent to intelligent conversation. I walked about Pine street on my own, bought cigarettes from 7-11 and forgot how the credit card machine worked, and giggled at the absurdities around me. Downtown at Pine street is really fucking strange at night. Flashing lights like a video game, go-go girls in the windows at the clubs dressed like furie sexy space creatures, and the sidewalk pavement revealed secret hieroglyphics to me. I even crossed the street all on my own.

We all walked about for a while, had some conversation, and though I didn't reveal what I was on I felt like I was exposing my new roommate ____ to a bad influence. He's such a good 19-year old kid, not into this shit, and he even confessed that he actually enjoyed high school. It's okay though, I'm trying to learn how to not to judge people around me. They're just different. Not better or worse, just a different species with other concerns. I was okay by the time we took the last bus home, babbling and singing all the way as the psilocybin died down and I had to get to sleep if I was going to wake up at 6 to get to work at 8 in the morning.

Friday I went to work like any other day. Woke up all damn early and typed away, while sneaking in a MySpace check or two, and listened to Democracy Now, and read from my Stephen Hawking book on break - on the hunt for trippy science fiction ideas, and it seemed an okay average day. Then a few hours in my boss tapped me on the back. I went to the office. "Ray," she said, "we told you that you cannot be surfing on the internet. It isn't respectful to not listen to your managers when you're clearly told what to do. We're going to have to let you go."

Fuck a job. Fuck them all. How are they going to condition me for two months in a lenient cool atmosphere - in which I do indeed get quite a bit of work done by the way - and then all of a sudden expect me to be a good soul-less worker bee in the span of this particular week? Just like that?

"I apologize," I said. Well, to be fair I was hired as a temp technically, and thus I will interpret this as a lay-off, not a termination. I packed my shit and headed out, the daylight up in the noon hours and the whole day ahead of me. I went down to the coffee shop across from Cypress College where I usually hang out after work (though I don't expect to hang out in dead Orange County much anymore), but it was too early for any of my friends to be there. I called up my shroom source though, and waited a while and then he came down with a half-ounce. I spent 85 dollars, which was highly irresponsible considering my inevitable future financial woes, and then ______ came down and we talked awhile too. We'd meet up at the bookstore poetry reading in Long Beach later on.

I did have an obligation to buy this, I must add, because another guy at the bookstore said he'd buy a fourth from me. I divied up my portions, and later on when at the bookstore I sold it for fifty-five. That adds up to me buying the other half of the pile - my own fourth - for only thirty bucks, and that's not a bad deal. Somehow or another on the same day I got fired I sold drugs for the first time in my life. What am I to interpret of this? So I read a poem I had just wrote, ______ seemed to enjoy the scene, hung out for a bit, and ______ was there too, and then he joined us on the ride back to crash at my place for the next inane day.

Saturday was the topsy-turviest of all. I hung out with ______ and ______ and drove all about Los Angeles County, and if I may be permitted this corny statement I must say that it felt great to have real friends. I'm glad they get along, because this is the first time in years that I've had real friends to hang out with. Not acquaintances to party next to and then not care about, but real deep people with some kind of sincere human interaction between the subtext of conversation. Really, it was a cool day.

First we went to eat at my old restaurant job, where I pathetically asked my old manager if they needed any busboys, and to no avail (fuck that place too). There was a lot of shit going on in the city to sort, a bonfire beach party in South Bay, a show in downtown, but I needed to get to Hollywood first. It wasn't timed very well, and Hollywood was the opposite direction from South Bay - especially since the itinerary involved being in downtown LA later in the evening, and in the end we didn't even go down there. But in Hollywood I met up with _____ who I hadn't seen since we viciously fought over hierarchy positions. Well, we're MySpace friends again and it's all in the past. I fear she didn't get along with ______ though, even though they're both from New Orleans. ______ is guttural downtown literature, and _____ is all Hollywood popism, and I love them both but they're pretty different vibes. Still, ______ gets along with everybody and he was humorous as usual. I picked her up and drove around Hollywood Blvd for a while, killing time, and I wanted to go that art gallery and see if I could talk to James St. James. Lo and behold he was there, and I got him to sign my book, and I talked to him about writing for a bit. It was highly productive, and I got his email address and everything. I'm glad to know a semi-famous author, hope it works out in the future. He's quite swell.

Deciding not to go to the beach, we went down to the strangest-emptiest warehouse section of downtown for the Rock n Roll BBQ show, ate at Jack in the Box, I wandered into a porno store, and then we went to see the show. I hadn't seen ____, or rather '______ ______' in ages and ages. Not since ________ broke up with me! The Spanks were all totally nice. They put on a nice show too. But the venue was totally dead at this point, so early at only 7:00, and as people trickled in me and ______ scoured into the corner to pop some X.

He bought it from somebody at the coffee shop, and I paid him back the day before, and I was ready to see what this shit is like. I missed the mark back in the 90s when I was a kid, back when Ecstasy was far more fashionable, but we came upon it and I figured why the hell not. I took some two tabs of white 'Man on the Moon' and he took some orangy 'Buddha', and it took an hour to kick in. I worried that it wouldn't do anything. But then an hour later I slowly found my pupils dilating and my veins hyperactive. They mix that shit with different chemicals, and while I hear that the source of MDMA is dwindling nowadays - which I suspect might not work on me anyways due to my medical diagnosis of serotonin imb____ce. But my theory is that it was laced with amphetamine, white means "ice" I guess, and it was the speed portion that made it so much fun. I was shivering and talking a mile a minute of nonsense to every model girl about in the vicinity, teeth chattering, hopping all up and down, neck barely attached. Perhaps rolling isn't my thing, but then again perhaps tweaking is. Of course, this is a fucked thing to get too into, and don't let me end up like those anorexic crazy people on the corner that we all ignore, but every once in a while may I be permitted for a hyper sped-up nighttime experiential energy?

In my excited state, I decided to give ___ a call. I left her a message, "blah blah blah! And destiny is just around the corner!" Funny, no matter where I go and who I meet, it always comes back to Cincinnati girls. I mentioned that while tripping on a fourth of psilocybin recently I had visions of her. Later she called me back, and synchronously she had recently also gotten fired. She laughed about it, a great attitude to have for sure, and mentioned that she's thinking about going to Burning Man. "Yeah," I said, "and we'll hang out naked in the desert!" ______ came over and I let him talk to her. I overheard them talking about her kid, and his needing a father figure, and I said to him: "I'll be a father figure." He nodded and smirked. "Tell her I said that," I said to him. He covered up the phone and said, "I'm not saying that." Well, probably smart in retrospect.

I also called ________ and left a silly message. "We should all do drugs and love everybody." ____ left a message too. Then later while I was in the car he called me back: "Don't call me! You're a nihilist! You'll never understand!" "Man," I said, "whatever I'll respect your wishes and I'm hanging up now." I erased his number from my phone. It was unnerving, but a cruel side of me also found it entertaining how easy it was to rile him up. Ah well, whatever with that guy. Fuckemall.

____ said that we should go to Hollywood for this other show, and he said that he'd even pay for us, and so we headed there. ______, only slightly drunk (tho I was not allowed any alcohol while rolling), drove the car and followed along. We went to Safari Sams, and missed that band, though I realized that _____ was the one playing there! How synchronous. It didn't go over well actually. I said to her: "So how's your immigration going? I was thinking, like, you should marry an American and that would be easier." "Like marry you?" she said. "I do!" I declared. It wasn't actually so witty at the time.

Later I talked to _______ on the phone, and it turned out she was at the other venue back in downtown. "Let's go there!" said ______. He drove, and then he ended up driving backward on a one-way in downtown as we realized to honks, and then I suggested we pull over and I drive the rest of the way. I had since popped a third tab, but it didn't work as well, and I was good to drive. When we got there it was fairly dead, and _______ asked for a ride to Pasadena to get her van. "I don't know," I said. "Okay!" ______ answered for me. So I agreed, but first we went to eat. I didn't particularly want to get finagled into a ride, but it wasn't the end of the world or nothin. We ate at 101 Café on Fountain, the night tying together as that was where I picked up _____ earlier. _____ briefly dropped by. I was thoroughly burnt out by then and only ordered soup, and ate two spoonfuls, and couldn't eat anymore.

______ drove to Pasadena to an auto shop. I'd never been to Pasadena before actually. Dropped her off and _______ gave me the worst directions of my life, to take the 210 to the 605 to get to Orange County. I should have gone down the 5. I drove thru an hour of emptiness to get to Cypress to drop off ______, who'd long been passed out in the backseat. Boring drive, but I was awake and sober and it wasn't too challenging. Me and ______ got home past 5 AM. And then I went to sleep.

Sunday I was completely burnt out. I woke up at noon, watched television, and then took a nap. I was supposed to catch up on reading and go to the gym and do all this productive shit, though I did read one comic and did go jogging, but most of the day I was fairly braindead and only watched cartoons. Hazards of pills I suppose.

The last few days I have been applying at tons of restaurants. Domenico's surely sucks, but I think I'd rather work part-time and get tips versus a soul-crushing office gig. I need time to write, you see. Of course, that would be the long term financial plan. I must be pragmatic you know. Lately I am proofreading Rob Woodard's new novel, and he's proofreading mine, and once it's as polished as its going to get I will send The Parade out to a new round of queries. Feeling rather uncreative lately, spent and used up and out of words; and I think all my destiny lies in this one novel. Its either this or I will never accomplish anything in life. Better make it happen.

And now I'm sitting on days and days worth of drugs, and I got to find some interesting events to get fucked up at in the coming weeks. I bought more Ecstasy from a local drug dealer I accidentally met, and I have plenty of mushrooms, some people I know are supposed to get some acid pretty soon (haven't done acid since I was sixteen!), and then there's the complex mail-order scheme I'm in on with ______ to get some dope down from his hometown.

Thus continues my quest to become a pathetic drug addict. It's a literary cliché, and who am I to argue with tradition? I used to avoid it when I was a kid, didn't want to become the stoner loser that is my father. But now I think that I shall instead avoid becoming my father by simply outdoing him. Sadly, ______ seems to hate me for it, and sent me an email declaring that we can never be friends as long as he is in law enforcement. But then again, we've been continuously emailing back and forth several times since he said it would be the last time; and I think he's not rid of me yet. We'll hang out soon again I suspect.

The true fact is, everything and everyone is a void. The truth is . . . that there is no truth. There is no morality, there are no honor codes to stand by. Let us get along and not kill each other, and let us be disciplined in whatever it is we do; and that's plenty for the world to go by. Don't be fooled into believing there is some inherent meaning in any of it. These silly human animals strut around pretending to do what they do, tricked into cosmic circumstance, but the best we can hope for is to reprogram the underlying absurdities of our brain's neurochemistry and make up a fun Reality Tunnel. Otherwise, God doesn't care and the primates are full of shit if they think otherwise. I intend to be an artist, and scam my way through life, and contribute nothing because there is nothing to contribute. It's all empty and dark and the whole wide world is a fraud. That's the good news. That's the trick that should make us happier if we understand it. And that's what I'm attempting to fool myself into believing, anyhow, and that's what I'll pretend to live by.