Manhappening, Kansas (IV)

*This is not a paid advertisement of Boulevard Brewing Co.

Manhappening, Kansas (III)

Today I took even less steps away from my sister's place. Just playing music folks. Trying to write songs about you and how you make me feel.

Am I wrong to dream of a world where all of my friends are friends with my other friends? I started an attempt to make this happen with my virtual friends today, but I think I just made a lot of people mad. Not angry mad, but crazy mad. Sleepy mad. I still may move forward with it though, who knows. If you don't know what I am talking about, just ask me. You can always ask me anything you like.


I was welcomed to Kansas properly tonight. No, not a ho-down. No, not a disco. We watched Dorothy and friends in their adventures to Oz. But wait, it was not "The Wizard of Oz", because we watched the sequel "Return to Oz". What a wonderfully strange movie! I really enjoyed it, though I did fall asleep toward the end. I particularly appreciated the chicken Billina and the soldier Tik-Tok's views on lifelessness. I cannot believe Disney actually claims this movie.

'sgreat.

Manhappening, Kansas (II)

My sister asked me if I would teach her how to play Chess. "Sure!" I said, though I warned her that she is learning from a sham instructor. I suggested that she take down a page or so of notes. She agreed, reluctantly. This morning, I went over her notes from last night. Here are a few excerpts of what I read:
"Knight - Moves in an "L" shape, two one, can jump friends and enemies, only one to jump folk"
"Queen Bomb - Moves like a freak..."
"King Monster - Like a fat lazy bastard..."

I setup a little recording studio in my sister's room and did not step more than 3 steps away from her house all day. I sat in despair as the creative juices all sat in my stomach and gave me gas, instead of turning into song. I would have settled with something interesting to write on my blog for the day. I thought about just posting a video of a car tire spinning continuously.

And then I wrote a song! I was happy.

Manhappening, Kansas (I)

I mounted a red-eye Greyhound that burned holes in the night through central America (United States of) and brought me to Junction City Kansas this morning. I slept well: scarf pillow, footrest full extension for optimal knee relaxation (sarcasm), and the attention-hogging Kansas landscape blanketed in darkness to keep me from distraction (quasi sarcasm).

I feel I have learned a few fundamental properties of the American universe in the last few weeks, but have yet to really discuss on the public interweb. First thing, when you don't have a cellular phone, and you use your laptop for all forms of communication (barring smoke signals, drunken gazes, and high fives) you develop a true sense of free wi-fi hotspots. Places like hotels and coffee shops become a staple of your signal stealing. The main point is I have yet to be in a situation where I could not find an unsecured signal. I am not sure if people don't know how to put a password on their wireless, or just don't care. So I let my sister know I made it to Kansas and this place made it too easy:

 

Secondly, people like the guy/gal with a guitar, particularly in the more rural areas. Many ask what kind of music you play, what kind of guitar you have. This is usually a segue to what music they play and what guitars they have, without having to ask them or appear interested. It is interesting that the guitar is one of those items that everyone and their grandma owns, yet it is an item that is strange enough in the public sector to illicit contact from strangers. It is a beautiful thing, and this alone earned me a free ride today from Junction City to Manhattan from a nice guy at a gas station. I didn't even have to play him a song!

Tonight my sister made chicken enchiladas while we drank beer. I am in Kansas, which means I am close to one of my favorite breweries, Boulevard Brewing Co. I was disappointed to not find a few of their brews in the store today though, and ended up with New Belgium Brewery's new attempt at an Indian Pale Ale. It is not bad, but I would prefer Boulevard's "Double Wide IPA".

I am here in Kansas with one mission (other than hanging with my sister), and that is to record some music. A friend once told me that Leonardo Da Vinci said "The idea is divine, creation is just servitude" (paraphrased). That thought has left me lying happily, naked on my back on the beach of laziness. It's time to try something new.

Denver (4 and 5)

Beautiful Denver. The snow is turning to steam on the black top. I can see some sidewalk and grass, as if she is undressing. Oh Denver, I'm blushing.

Today Sarah made me a bad ass scarf with my initials in it! I have never owned a scarf before. I am terribly excited to face some cold wind and laugh in it's face.

I have had a good time here, to say the least. In fact, a little too much, all thanks to my temporary suite mates. We definitely through it down on St. Ball Street.

Hope to see these guys, and Denver, again in the not-to-distant future. Thank you "Sarah and Rachel's Ball Street Hostel Bungalow, Denver".

Denver (3)

Denver Public Library, again. Hells yeah, though I didn't learn quite as much as I did there yesterday.

I did learn today that Denver has some very impressive public art works. Not only that, but Denver seems to have a strong dedication and feeling toward the promotion, support, and interest in public arts. It is a beautiful thing and makes me smile. Here was one I saw today, my favorite so far:

That, my friends, is a giant blue bear looking into the second story for the Colorado Convention Center.

Really dope.

Anyways, I just goofed around today. Wait, what is it that I have done every other day that I have posted on this? I ended up walking into this convention center to see what was up, and there was a Home and Garden convention going on. I talked to an energy consulting company, who focuses on solar power installation, for quite some time. This conversation reminded me of how much I loved engineering. I hope the god of engineering still remembers me and would allow me to calculate something for her again one day.

Tonight I consumed, for the second night in a row, a navel orange that was the size of a small human head. As I ate it, I hoped, deep down, that the Vitamin C that I was ingesting was making my head as intelligent as a small human's.

I will be lucky if any of you still read this blog much longer.

Denver (2)

Every aspiring artist has certain important, yet common, checkpoints they reach through their journey. For the lowly bar/coffee shop/open mic playing musician, one of these checkpoints is "drunk guy coming on stage uninvited to sing with you". I am not too proud to apologize for this particular performance of this song, I don't care for it. I do like the drunk guy's parts (he makes his first appearance saying "I'm gonna be your fan" right after the first guitar note and then in the second verse).

Mr. Simon is tossing and turning in agony, without knowing why, each time one of you plays the file below.

"Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes" (Paul Simon) - Mia's Lounge, Flagstaff AZ

Overall, my 30 minutes of poorly representing other peoples' music, and a few of my own numbers, was fun and a good experience. There were these 3 full-sized dogs that sat, played, and walked around on the stage with me as I was playing. Plus the drunk guy on a few songs.

At the Denver Public Library and appreciating it greatly. I am in my happy place right now.

Denver (1)

Apologies for the missing post of yesterday. Please allow me to fill you in briefly:

Amtrak through my warmly home state of New Mexico. Caught up on some dreams I have been needing to dream, re-mastered a recording of a recent Joanna Newsom concert, and generated images of the New Mexico landscape in my mind by absorbing photons with my eyes as they bounced off of New Mexican rock/plains/sky. That was definitely a glorified way of saying I sat on my own butt, in my own skin oils, on a train seat. It was great.

From LA, LV, AZ and NM

I currently reside for the next few days with my new family in Denver, Colorado. The cast includes Sarah, Stephen, Mark and Rachel (in order of appearance).
I am lazy tonight, here is a video:

From Denvemolorado

Flagstaff, AZ (dos)

Played at Charly's Open Mic Night last night. You know, my only beef was that nooobody was paying attention to the performers, and the shittier part is that almost everyone in there was a performer themselves. I can understand to some degree, you may have these guys who play the same songs there EVERY week and it gets a bit tiring, or you are trying to impress your date at the bar or something. Other than that, this attitude is what separates a conducive, artistic gathering and just another place to play. I can play in the bathroom of this hostel. Anyways, I liked all of the acts, thought they were quite dope, and it was nice because mostly everyone played original stuff (or just didn't admit to covering someone else's stuff). I played OK, a guy came up to me afterward and said he liked it and told me about another open mic that is going on tonight, well actually this very moment.

I am signed up to play in 45 minutes. It is a 30 minute set, which is longer than I usually play. I am definitely going to have to pull out some tricks from the past. I have to conjure the ghosts of my college nights by the fire pit in my backyard. This should be interesting. This open mic is cool because they gave me coups for 2 free drinks. I gave them away though, not feeling like drinking tonight (gasp!).

Sorry for the very "open mic night" intensive post. It does not reveal the entire reflection of my current stance in the galaxy. For example, I did burpees in the grass outside of some apartment complex today and this afternoon I listened to an older gal attempt to persuade me (somewhat subtly) into buying an R.V. with her and traveling across the country. She believes I am desirable because I studied mechanical engineering. Perhaps she desires the beard. I also found out that a relative of mine is running for government office here in Flagstaff. Check it out:

Flagstaff, AZ

I would like to take this opportunity to thank the laws of Physics, for giving me a way to describe my rapid acceleration away from Las Vegas, and always being there for me whenever I need someone to talk to. I debated whether to share this next part with my Blog readers, mainly because my parents are frequent worried visitors, but 'tis the truth, and the truth shall set you free.

First of all though, here is a warning for those of you who do not have experience using Greyhound. Regular price tickets (not Priority tickets) are on a FIRST COME, FIRST SERVE basis. Not just for buying tickets, this is also for getting on the bus AFTER you have already purchased. This means that, in the event that a bus is oversold, you may not get on the bus you bought a ticket for. And what does Greyhound do in this event? They tell you that you can have a refund of your ticket, or you can wait for the next bus. So what happened to me? Well, I had no where else to be yesterday, so I walked to the bus station at about 2 pm. The next bus out to Arizona was at 8 pm. So I just hung out with families, vagrants, liars, and cheats at the bus station for 6 hours, reading and thinking. As the line to get on the 8 o' clock piled onto the bus, and about 10 of us were left to get on, the driver says "Sorry folks, I am all full. You will have to go talk with the ticket counter to see why they oversold this one." The ticket counter only has to explain their first come first serve policy, which none of us were made aware of until this moment.

I had some options as far as how to kill time until the next bus, which was 10 hours away at 6 am the next morning:

1. Get a hotel or hostel room
2. Find ways to entertain myself out around Las Vegas all night
3. Stay/sleep at the bus station

I got a bite to eat, but otherwise set up shop at the bus station and waited it out. The Las Vegas Greyhound station is not exactly a place you want to be for any period of time, but it is definitely good experience in that you see how many of these other people are practically living (whether by choice or not) and depending on Greyhound. Since I was there for about 16 hours, I saw many of the same faces and realized that some of them have no intention on getting on a bus. They live there, at the station. There are employees who monitor the place to some degree, but don't do anything about these guys. One guy was sketching and/or writing stories on a notepad the entire time I was there. I tried to be "artistic", but found it difficult, which is something I am concerned about.

Where am I?

Many of you are probably saying "What did you expect?" or "Sorry that Greyhound was not your pumpkin carriage.". I would argue with you that technology today is so cheap and so efficient in terms of scheduling and organizing, and I am amazed at how disjointed Greyhound is. Greyhound could easily be my pumpkin carriage, full of people bragging about how they robbed a guy while in Vegas.

Flagstaff AZ is a nice place, and I need to get out and get some mountain air. There are a constant flow of tourists here to see the Grand Canyon, or to ski the nearby mountain slopes. This consistency gives this place a nice mix of German and English girls. Bye.

Las Vegas (the unexpected chapter)

Son of a gun. I missed my bus out of Las Vegas last night, due to my own negligence. For the last month, I have found my mind clear enough to be able to memorize times, dates, names, and pizza toppings with great lucidity. It is very interesting that once I dove head first into the Las Vegas lifestyle, my mind must have reached a state of toxic fallout strong enough to allow me to make up a completely new bus time. I missed the bus by several hours.

Costly mistake.
Cons: My Amtrak to Denver will be refunded, minus a 16 dollar processing fee. For lunch today, I will be eating a 30 dollar Greyhound bus ticket with ketchup and mustard. For whatever reason the exact same trip, but one day later, is almost double the price! So, my travels to Denver are now delayed until prices go back down.

I did get to see my folks for a bit longer last night and eat a good breakfast with them this morning, so I am not complaining. BUT I GOT TO GET THE HELL OUT OF LAS VEGAS! as fast as I can.

So, I am off to the bus station to head to Flagstaff AZ for a few days I think, until I can get on the train for Raton, NM to catch a bus to Denver. Here we go.

Las Vegas, NV (2)

Maybe I took it easy because I knew that I was going to force myself to tell you all the details of last night, but last night was fairly innocent.

I figured if I was going to gamble at all I would at least justify doing it by only gambling the money I made playing music on Las Vegas Blvd. So I played across the street from Caesar's Palace and had a great time, made an enormous 3 dollars. After about 30 minutes a guy in a suit and a police officer told me to pack my stuff and move down the road because I was not in a public performance sector. I asked where I was allowed to play and they said "Anywhere you see the guys flipping the cards for the night clubs". So picture it, here I am playing guitar and singing in the middle of a line of about 15 guys along the sidewalk giving out these cards promoting strip clubs. I got some interesting attention, to say the least, but not a lot of money. One of the card guys tossed a dime in my guitar case and asked if I knew "American Pie". I said sorry that I did not. I wished I did.

I gave up after a while and walked the strip. A glorious idea came to me as I was walking. I could just pop into this Walgreens to buy alcohol instead of paying the overpriced bars and casinos. To my dismay, this particular Walgreens did not sell alcohol, but I did buy some bagels and a jar of peanut butter for the next couple of days. Nothing felt better than walking down the strip, eating bagels and scooping PB out with my index finger. I did find a little shop that sold beer at a more reasonable price, so I bought a couple Heinekens. After my parents got out of the Cirque Du Soleil I met them at the Carnaval Courtyard for some live music and live drinking, in true American fashion. It was good.

Now it was off to gamble away my four dollars. My dad wanted to play Craps, but it was a 10 dollar minimum so he fronted me some money. I won 40 bucks, and to this moment I have no idea how because I still don't understand a lick about Craps. My dad and I discussed philosophies of different natures. To convey the level of my intoxication, at some point I explained to him I am not afraid of death. He was soon tired of this nonsense and off to bed. I played the slot machines with my 4 bucks that I made. Here was my strategy: I told myself that as soon as I am up, no matter how little, I had to cash out and move to a new machine. You could commonly find me at the cashier's desk turning in my slip for $1.12 or $1.26. I never really got anywhere with this strategy, though I didn't expect to. I still have a couple dollars left today, plus the 40 I won which I may go gamble as soon as I am done pushing away the majority of my blog readers by typing out all of this useless information in somewhat nauseating detail. After the slots, I stumbled out into the streets to play some more music. It was mostly a failure (especially since I played with a broken string from earlier in the night), and to say it was a failure in comparison to my usual outings really says a lot about the atrocity that is my street performances. However, while I was packing up three beautiful, gorgeous, heavenly (remember, I am drunk) gals told me not to pack up and to play a song they can sing along with. We made up some lyrics and sang a few songs. They asked for my autograph so I wrote some poems on $1.12, $0.76, and $1.26 cash out slips to give to them. I hope they got the money, because I'm sure the poems are worth much less.

Today was back to square one for me, in terms of my spiritual journey. I gorged at a buffet, slept until noon, and payed $30 for one of those "Aqua Massage" outside of a mall. The rest of the day has been great though, just drinking beers and talking with my Dad. Headed down to the casino now, dinner, and then the Greyhound for Kingman, AZ.

Las Vegas, NV

Ahhh, Las Vegas. The city of lights, the city of dreams, the windy city, the first city established in the United States of America, and last but not least, the city where I was born in another life. Staying for the night as I swing on to Denvemolorado. Admittedly, I am just here to see my parents because they are here for the weekend!

If this city was a human being (or humanoid), we would probably have more in common than I would like to think. Because I disagree with the "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas" slogan, I plan on telling you, fellow blog readers, everything that I do here. Not just the some-what interesting things that I normally tell you to try to make me (myself) seem cooler than I really am. This means tomorrow's blog post promises to be interesting, as I am about to go down to the bar and drink on my parent's room tab.

Today I flew into the Greyhound Bus station to catch the Las Vegas Metro bus to Las Vegas Blvd and the Flamingo Hotel where I am staying. I got on the first bus that stopped and asked if he goes to Flamingo Rd. He said no, but told me that I could ride the 108 to get there. I saw that the fare was $2. The 108 bus came a few minutes later and I got my billfold out to find that I had a $1 and a $5. "Shit". I got on the bus and inserted the $1 into the machine and started walking to the back. "It's $2 dollars man",  the driver said. I played the fool, "I thought it was only $1". "No, it is $2 dollars", he said. I turned to the back of the bus with my innocent mask on, "Does anyone have change for a $5?" No one responded and kept their heads down. "Just get to the back", the driver said. I said my thanks and walked back.

We crossed under a freeway and stopped at the Las Vegas Premium Outlets shopping center. I looked at all of the people getting onto the bus, internally judging many of them for their exorbitant amounts of newly purchased accessories and clothing. (I judge them because I think I am better sitting over here in my corner of the bus with my beard and my filth and my very immature and sad judgmental qualities.) Until this point, I was perfectly cool riding the bus for the $1 I put in, but as people settled down, my personal Jiminy Cricket tells me that I should break my $5 and pay the rest of my fare. So, I begin asking people around me for change, and in an effort to ease there possible worry about money dealing with strange men on the city bus I pull out my $5 to show them. No. No. No. Some of them did try to look for the change, most did not. So I give in, "At least I tried" I tell myself. We carry on down Main St, stopping for extended amounts of time at each stop, I suppose to stay on schedule.

Now I am beginning to consider that I am not entirely sure where to get off of this thing. Normally I would talk with the driver, but he is not going to be thrilled to chat with the bum who can't pay the whole fare. So, a selfish drive to gain acceptance from the driver now re-sparks my efforts in breaking the $5 bill. I turn to some folks sitting behind me, and BINGO, they'se gots the dough.  I walked to the front, "OK sir, here is that other dollar I owed you. Oh and can you tell me where...". He gives me the directions I need and I return to my seat. Not much else happened on the bus except I farted on accident when I was adjusting my pack and guitar to make room for my legs.

Let me wrap this up: I walked into a gas station to use their Yellow Pages to find the address of the hotel, I walked a few blocks to the hotel, was too lazy to walk another block around the corner to the hotel entrance so I climbed a a chain link fence to climb a brick wall to jump down about 7 feet to the other side where the hotel parking garage is, found my parents hanging out in the hotel's casino bar, and came up to the room to wash my underarms (because I don't use deodorant or antiperspirant) and change my shirt. Oh ya, and I can confirm there is a major difference in the smell between the underarm with hair and the one without.

L.A. (2 and 3)

Not blogging yesterday has left me with too much to write about. Because of this, I will keep it brief (also because I am in a hotel's lobby stealing their internet signals. They are on to me).

Yesterday I went to the beach and, like I always find myself doing, commenced playing with the sand. I dug modest holes, fragile trenches, and simple mounds. Then I found an area where water had washed up at high tide and was slowly making its way back to the ocean along the beach. This blew my mind. I made my own channels, re-routed streams, etc. Mainly though, I thought about my life and how these simple physical things can serve as wonderful analogies. This stream is time (as defined by a majority of the human populous), this sand bank is a community of people. Wait no, this sand that is knocked loose inside of the stream is knowledge that is passing through time, and the stream is time, and this rock is a major historical event. No, wait... and on and on. I am terribly lucky and wondering when the luck will run out.

Also, thought I would tell you about an informal science experiment I started. I have shaved one arm pit and left the other in the absurdly manly state it was in. The goal is to find just how much the smell difference is with the hairs or not. NOTE: I am not all that concerned with the smell, it is my own and I sort of like it. I do understand though that others do not care for it, to say it mildly. Though, it has been said that some women are naturally attracted to the scent, at least I keep telling myself that. Also, there is a reason we developed the ability to sweat there, and the hair must have served a purpose in this effort. However, both the female attraction and the purpose of the hair are evolved qualities that may not be necessary, useful, or practical today. Hence the confusion, hence the experiment. Here's a diagram in case you are confused:

Today was even better yesterday, but not for any specific reason other than I saw the other little pieces of sand just like me who were being carried around by the water. I smiled at them, they smiled at me. Going to go out and eat dinner at some preposterous place tonight with my pal Maddy, her boyfriend Chris, and her roommate Holli. It is preposterous because it has a dress code, so there, I am not being cynical. It will be good though. Thank you very much Maddy and Holli for the hospitality as usual, it's been dope, and good luck on your further journeys.

The weather was awessssoooommmeeee. David Lynch was busy enjoying it I hope.

L.A. (1)

Los Angeles. Hoping to meet movie stars such as: Smurfette (of "The Smurfs", scheduled 2011), Kermit the Frog ("Terminator 2"), Terry Kiser ("Weekend at Bernie's" 1 and 2), and Profanity (has appeared in many many Hollywood picture films, both minor or major roles, as a substitute for Creativity when she is busy doing something else).

Dinner party tonight with strangers. I hope they know what happens to me when you put the word "party" in the event title.

San Diego (chapter 4)

You could call it an adventure. I personally would call it the "missing the midnight bus because you decided to stop and play guitar on a highway overpass for an hour, only to find that you can either: walk 5 miles back to downtown, hail a cab, or inner-city hitchhike" story. I tried choice three, but ended up with choice one, and let me tell ya, northeast San Diego is not exactly scenic, particularly from 12 to 3 in the morning.

The worst part was that I had caught the bus to this area of town to try to play at Lestat Coffee Shop's open mic night. Instead, I watched 30 other guitar players and listened to them explain what this song means and how it makes them feel when they sing it. I don't know why their explanations were all different, because their songs all sounded the same. Ok, ok. I will be punished for that negativity. Its bogus anyway, because many of them were very very good. Some of them I will hopefully continue to follow. I am just bitter because I was drawn to play only as an alternate.

Tonight ends my San Diego adventure, and I am ready for an end. This is not a city I hope to come back to for any long stretch of time. I did meet some good people though. Hopefully I learned something fundamentally universal, or universally fundamental.

It is off to Los Angeles to P&C with my ol' pal Maddy Claeys for a few. I wonder how the weather is.

San Diego (chapter 3)

San Diego, or at least the San Diego of today, seems to be a city that has come into existence far too rapidly to appear natural. Let me explain. You can drive, or bike as I did, to various points in the city and come across these major traffic arteries in areas that have nothing else, these dead zones. Sure, people have to get from one place to another, but how is there such development surrounding an area, but nothing in between? Furthermore, areas like downtown, "Hillcrest", and "Pacific Beach" are these neon-lit, shiny, bars and restaurants surrounded by more dilapidated or poorly developed city areas. Makes it difficult to find any character in an area like that. A friend confirmed that 5 years ago, none of this was here, and they have just pumped money money money into these areas, kicking the existing residents out, bringing in franchises of all flavors, only to watch business after business fail.
On the other hand, "Ocean Beach", "South Park" and "North Park" seem like areas that have come to be by their own means and in doing so have retained some existing soul.

Sorry, I usually just do this whole "today I did this, and that" so I thought I would throw some thoughts at you. I biked all over San Diego yesterday, it was wonderful. Then I played at Libertalia Cafe's Open Mic Night, with mixed reception :)  . I am off to do more of it. Here is a family photo of me and two distant relatives of friends.

From left to right: My sweetheart Phyllis's great Aunt Jenine, Yo Soy, and my pal Montezuma's cousin Jose Arcadio Buendia.

San Diego (chapter 2)

I posted too early last night. Found some friends (a guy who I call JC Superstar, and a cute/smart/nice gal named Nicole). We went out for a drink. I made 2 dollars in the street. San Diego doesn't like my music, but I will still take their money and make their drunk women clap.

Easy day, played the guit-fiddle and ate beans as the hours dropped away. I went jogging for the first time since I left Austin, and I feel terrible :) . JC Superstar and I caught the bus to the northwest neighborhood of Pacific Beach, but we got separated because I walked out onto the beach and he couldn't find me. I pressed my feet onto pavement up and down the proverbial Garnet Ave anyway. Not feeling it, but had a dagnab good local beer though - Alesmith IPA. Sauce. The night amounted to me sitting, watching drunk people, and writing in my journal as I had been unreservedly drawn to a bench outside a closed down flower shop. Couldn't be better.

P.S.
Some guy saw me running in my Vibram Five Fingers and he scolded me on how I need cushioning in my shoes (which I disagree with). I asked him what he recommended and he told me these:

http://www.kangoojumps.com/

He was serious.

San Diego (chapter 1)

Song: "Devil Town" Daniel Johnston
Food: Peanut Butter and torts

Got the heck out of Santa Barbara before the city took what little spirit I had left in my tiny, black spirit organ. Had an amazing trip on the Amtrak down to San Diego, it follows the coast line very closely for a large part of the ride. It makes you feel like royalty, or that you have been given some exclusive pass to travel in the forbidden area, all for 33 bucks! I spent most of my time looking out the window or reading, re-reading, re-reading these 10 or so pages in a Kierkegaard book.

I've gotta stop bouncing around so much. My intention is to stay longer in places. Two nights in a city does not give me sufficient time to get out of "tourist mode", even with me staying clear of many touristy conveniences such as eating at restaurants and spending dough on other entertainment.

Three goals in San Diego:

1. Play a few open mics
2. Surf a few couches
3. Find a spot, place, rock, beach, or stump that I like enough to come back to several times.

I'm gonna put the D. Lynch weather on hold for a while as I am not really in LA, though it was fun. I encourage, no, I advise you to watch a Lynch film instead. Maybe "Elephant Man" is a safe start.

California Coasting (pt 3)

Song: "I Want You Back" Jackson 5
Food: Black Beans, torts of course

Said, "Peace out!!" to Monterey this morning, but not before eating waffles and playing guitar at the wharf.

Wow, what else...? I sat on the Greyhound and read, listened to people talking about their personal lives on their cell phones. The guy across the aisle just got back from seeing his baby momma and his daughter. He is heading to L.A. because he misses his homeys, for shizzle. I lost count of the blunders he made while talking to his new girlfriend, whom he also just visited. For example: "If I come back this way I am taking the train, these people on the bus stink". (Maybe it is me who he smells?) Then (girlfriend talking). Then, "No no, I mean. Of course I am coming back! I didn't mean to say IF. For sure, for sure. WHEN I come back, I am taking the train. What? Ya, because they stink!"

I am in Santa Barbara at the moment, checked into the lovely, exquisite, and heavenly "Santa Barbara Tourist Hostel". Good people here though, good music on the speakers in the lobby.

Now, the weather. Brought to you by Heineken:

California Coasting (pt 2)

Song: Frogs copulating
Food: Trail mix

Yodi! Why? Because the Monterey Hostel has all you can eat Belgian waffles, as long as you make them. So I went to town on these things early this morning.

Took the bus to Carmel as planned and the bus driver let me know when to get off for Big Sur. It must be painfully common for hippy lookin, wilderness warrior wannabes to ride his bus to get to Big Sur. It is a 2 mile walk along CA Hwy 1 to get to the first park area. I decided to try to hitch hike, heck I am in California. I held up the thumb for maybe 5 minutes with no luck, so I put it down. Then I came around the corner and looked up the road and there was a car about 100 yards up pulled over. I thought they must be having car trouble. I walked up and the passenger window came down. "Hi. Can I bum a ride to Big Sur?" The gal driving the car said, "That's what I pulled over for!"

I had no idea how far we were going, or how I was going to get back. She is an aspiring musician, and she played me some of her stuff from her Ipod. It was really good. I told her we needed to play each other some songs whenever we stop. We did stop, not too far down the road at the River Inn. We played some songs - hers were wonderfully sad, mine bored her. She said she is heading back now, and I just jumped back in her car. Short trip to Big Sur, or so I thought. Despite the good company, at Bixpy Bridge (I believe it has some significant Jack Kerouac significance), and again not really knowing how far I was (14 miles), I asked to get out and walk the rest of the way back to Carmel. That was, definitely, the rest of my day. Full of picture taking (of my own) and stares (from the other tourists). I was not successful in getting other tourists to take pictures of me, but, for a reason I have not quite figured out, a car slowed down next to me and a young girl held a few dollar bills out the window toward me. I was tickled, told her thank you very much, but that I am OK.

What do you make of that?

I think you have had enough tonight, we will check in with the LA weather from Mr. Lynch tomorrow. New pictures uploaded to my picture album (link up in the top right).

California Coasting (pt 1)

Song: The wheels on the bus
Food: Wheels from a bus

Left Santa Cruz this morning on the Greyhound headed for Salinas, CA. While driving in I saw a sign for the National Steinbeck Center, so I got off to check it out. Then there was a sign to the "Steinbeck House", so I walked over to it too, mainly in honor of many of my pals. Craw, D, J, Trev, J-Mac, Mom, Caroline, Dad, and whoever else has talked to me about Steinbeck, I have a message for you: You're not missing anything in Salinas California, stay away. I hopped on another bus headed for Monterey, where I am now. Got checked into the Monterey Hostel and walked over to "Cannery Row". Ehhh.
This is me trying to simulate what I look like walking around today.

 

Well, there doesn't appear to be much of a "public transportation" method for getting down to Big Sur from here, so here is the scoop: I am going to leave my crap at the hostel, get on the bus headed for Carmel CA, and then hoof it as far south as I can (or until I find a place to stay). I will either do that, or find a fast food joint that has a playground and say that I went to Big Sur. So, count this as my blog post for today and tomorrow night.

How is LA David?

Santa Cruzing, USA (pt 7)

Song: "To Go Home" - Daniel Johnston
Food: Raisin Bran

I am in a race to finish reading "One Hundred Years of Solitude" for this book club I am in. All of the other people (only one other person) in the club are probably upset at me that I have not finished. Walked over to the Boardwalk beach and fused with the damp sand. From there, I walked to the University of California Santa Cruz campus. On my way, there was a tree, and I saw him, clear as day I saw him, and I knew deep down that if I did not make him come to life I would later regret it. So there I was, on the side of Bay street, creating my tree man.

UCSC, holy moly, what a beautiful campus. Mann, just enough trees and hills for my beard to feel at home, but still close enough to the beach for my god-like tan. I wanted to be a freshman, living in the dorms, and experiencing all of the beautiful confusion all over again. The ultimate goal of the trip was to see the second night of "UCSC Kinetic Poetics" featuring the flock printer himself, Buddy Wakefield. Unfortunately I had the night mixed up and the event is next week.
No worries though, we still had time to drive over to Capitola for Ugly Mug's Open Mic night. I walked in the door, signed up, and was on the stage in a few minutes. Ehh, it was, ehhh. Good experience, but I think my intense, whining music did more damage than good at this place. Great little coffee shop though.

Tonight ends my stay in Santa Cruz, and let me tell ya, it has been a grand time. Much gratitude to the warrior queen Andi B and her roommate Rebecca K for putting up with me in their kitchen, bathroom, and social lives for as long as they did. Thank you girls and may your souls receive substantial cuts in the buffet line of your heavenly cafeterias, one day far from now.

As I progress toward Los Angeles, I thought I would do a better job of informing you of the weather. And what better way to do it, then to have Mr. David Lynch present the information?