IHOPE

90% of the ideas I have on a daily basis, especially when involving food, are bad. I had some errands to run on the North Shore early this morning. I took a little drive after and took some photos of the ocean and that kind of thing. I hadn't eaten anything and as is the case anytime I am somewhere awake and it's between 7:00 AM and 11:59 AM, and I'm hungry I could eat breakfast. I realized I was hungry and this was the point where I should have driven home. I have ten eggs in the fridge right now, english muffins, bacon, sausage, milk and magazines to read. Everything one needs to eat. Another idea I threw around in my head was to go to Red's in downtown Salem. It's a small little diner type place famous for being a place that people talk about. Food is as good as food at those kinds of places can be but there's a good atmosphere and they have a great selection. Didn't feel like dealing with downtown Salem and parking and the possibility to running into someone I know and having to explain to them I'm moving and what I'm doing and then listen to what they're doing, etc. No thanks. At this point I pretty much have left Massachusetts, so.

So I don't incriminate myself I will change the name of this restaurant I did decide to visit to...International House of Poor Ethiopians, or IHOPE. I went in this same exact restaurant a few months earlier when I was in the area for errands. I recognized a few of the waitresses and the similar clientele from the last time I was there. Lots of disgusting people presumably from Lynn? Check. Lesbian woman that looks like Phillip Seymour Hoffman? Check.

I text my friend Aarne “Do you think I am going to regret this IHOP meal?” he replies “Not at all buddy!”
So I get the coffee that comes in that vessel allowing you to have three or so cups. I text Aarne again “Coffee tastes like it was brewed and burned three months ago” he replies “that’s part of the charm! no more boysenberry either!” I remember this. IHOPE does not have Boysenberry syrup anymore. Syrup made from a berry nobody has ever heard of. People who have been studying berries for thousands of years, reading ancient texts about berries found by long lost generations and there has never been something called a boysenberry. Somehow spellcheck thinks boysenberries are real. I wonder how Google feels? I can’t be bothered really.
The food comes. I ordered the eggs “over medium” which in reality means the yolk won’t be runny but not hard and dry either. The eggs are completely runny, like cooked less than over easy. The hash browns are okay, sauasage: ice cold. MMMMMM. Then I eat some more potatoes and realize there is something in my mouth that isn’t potato. I pull out what looks like a pubic hair. Aarne and I have been texting back and forth and he wants me to steal the boysenberry syrup for him. I don’t have a jacket or bag with me and as much as I’d love to stick something down my pants and steal it from this shit hole an object filled with syrup is on the short list o things I will not stick down my pants. Plus, I have bigger plans in my head. He reminds me that the only time one should be eating at a place like this is between 1:00 AM and 4:00 AM. This is exactly true.

I decide I am going to leave three dollars on the table for the tip; when the hostess and the manager leave the front counter I will leave the restaurant with this bill for $13 in my pocket. My car is a dangerous 50 or so yards out and the walk will be a clear view of the front counter. I have never done this in my life. There are also a couple of policemen on another side in view of the restaurant directing traffic. As soon as I see the hostess and manager woman in the seating area I rise and walk determined to the front. Get nervous for a second and consider just heading into the bathroom and coming out and paying when one of them returns but no I take a little glance behind me and see I am free. I get outside and start walking calmly towards my car, then start jogging towards it, fumbled with the keys like women in movies getting chased and then hop in and poof, I’m gone. Fuck you. Shit what a rush of adrenaline. And the whole thing premeditated! Like I couldn’t have been more guilty of something than if I walked up to a group of cops and shot one of them point blank in the face wearing an “I hate cops and am about to kill one” t-shirt with a picture of my face on it and then having this writing on my computer and now on the internet.

I am now escaped and free, but am paying the price. I go to the shopping mall to check out some shit and “lay low” for a while which is what they do in movies after committing a crime. Then I remember you’re also not supposed to buy anything lavish like fur coats, expensive watches, etc. Then I also remember I didn’t rob a bank and am not in a mob movie. I walk by a mall cop and believe he is “on to me” so I break another direction and lose his ass in a women’s clothing store that I can’t find the name of. I leave the mall and a state police car speeds past me with it’s lights flashing. Keeps going. I AM IN THE FUCKING CLEAR!.

Now a normal person probably would have just said something to the waitress or manager and sent the food back but really, if you believe sending your food back is your best option you are horribly wrong. There is no possible way something isn’t going to be done to your food especially at a low quality place like this where the combined salary of the whole workforce there is probably $100,000/yr. And besides, I hate complaining about shit. Aside from right here.

So my score on a scale of 1-10 of IHOPE: 1

"But I've seen your double dares everything extraordinaire I know the things you do are gonna come back"

Eight days, nine days, I can’t really remember and it doesn’t matter anyway. This recent trip had something to do with a recent relationship. Per usual online and in real life I’ll never talk about my relationships good or bad, and if I do you can assume I am lying. You should probably do that with a number of things I say. I think.

We set out on this trip last Tuesday, at the worst time to set out on a trip, late afternoon. I should have seen this is a sign this trip would make me feel like Marlow in Heart of Darkness. It was hot and rainy and we were filling a U-Haul with all of her belongings. I was responsible for what would seem like difficult tasks like pulling a washing machine and dryer up stairs through a spider web and God-knows-what infested bulkhead out of the basement up into this U-Haul truck. I had this horrible pain in my upper back for a few days before this and all of this moving actually made the pain go away. I was slightly disappointed in this as I’ve kind of grown to live with being in pain every day of my life, at least when it comes to my back. My arms and shoulders felt nice and worked from all of this lifting as well. I decided once all of this is over with and I am settled somewhere I will start lifting weights again, especially now that I have quit smoking. I immediately was reminded of how great it feels to have arms that feel like rubber from lifting heavy objects.

We would be driving from here in Massachusetts to Oklahoma City, which is in the state of Oklahoma. We would also have her two cats with us which is a whole other world of shit if you’ve ever driven with a cat in a car you know it’s probably the second worst thing to have in your car while driving long distances. The first would be another person. Driving with another person on long distances is definitely a test. A test I know I will always fail at. Like a test I didn’t even take a class for let alone study for. I think the only people you (well, me) could travel long distances with in a car is a prostitute that doesn’t charge you money and one that doesn’t have any diseases. Like a prostitute on her (or his) first day of work ever. I could travel with this person. The other person I could travel I a long distance with in a car would be a person who just died and their body is stowed away somewhere and you are basically just transporting the body. I hate having to stop when I don’t need to stop, and thankfully she isn’t one of those people that need to go to the bathroom if a drop of water is ten feet from her. You ever meet one of these people? Every time they take a sip of a drink they have to visit a restroom immediately after. I couldn’t travel with one of these. I like to push myself and try to do things like drive seven hours without stopping. I drove the first night. Of course it was raining, hot and we had cats making all sorts of noise in the car. Traffic in Massachusetts was for the most part and hot miserable rain soaked. This type of traffic is the worst kind of traffic. At one point a person pulled next to me yelling and pointing at the car we were towing. Oh yeah, we would also be towing a car on the back of this U-Haul truck. I have never been able to back up anything with a trailer. From time to time one of those know-it-all types will say something snide like “Well all you have to do is turn the wheel one way and the tires go this way, turn it the other way and they go that way” This couldn’t be further from the truth. You’re looking through these giant oddly shaped mirrors so everything is backwards. There is noise and sun in your face and the whole thing is a horrible experience. This situation would rear its ugly head the next morning. Back to this guy yelling at me to pull over: I pull over and can’t figure out what is wrong with the car we are towing. A few miles later another guy pulls up, this time I can actually hear him. Not sure if you know this but when you are going any speed over say….20 miles an hour and yell to someone at a car next to you they can’t hear you like in the movies. Now that I think of it I can’t think of one movie where this has happened. I hear “your ramps are down”. Turns out we were dragging a ramp. This was fixed. Six or seven hours later we arrived in Syracuse, NY. I would not drive this truck again until a day after we arrived in Oklahoma City because I apparently “follow people too close” to which I let her know “well, you drive too close to shit on the right”

I don’t have a laptop anymore so writing for this trip would have to be by hand, which at this point is not fun. I learned to enjoy it once I was on the train coming back. Here is what I wrote night one:

“Depressing motel, area of country and situation I am in right now. But with all things negative a positive always comes along and fixes that straight away. This kind of travelling where I am not relaxed isn’t really my idea of fun but, eh… The fun comes later. When I think of back home, and when I say back home I don’t mean ‘back home in Massachusetts’ I mean where I have spent ‘time’ the last few months and felt happiest, like myself. It’s nice to have people in my life that don’t owe me anything that I can feel completely comfortable around. I actually feel like myself. This feeling crossed with that mysterious feeling of the unknown and distance is an oddly satisfying feeling I’ve been spending time with for the last few months. I like this feeling much better than the uncomfortable feelings I sometimes feel in reality. I keep thinking I want to write a letter but then realize just living and being is good for right now. I have too much in my head to think about anything else, especially if I am happy the way it is now”

Driving through upstate New York, I have done it so much in all parts of it…well, all parts off of Route 90, which isn’t much. I like it up there. Some of it, when you start moving more west anyway, feels like it is five years ago, or even twenty years ago. There is this lonely and sad feeling of claustrophobia and emptiness that appears late at night there driving past orange lit parking lots for hours at a time. I love it and hate it up there at the same time.

From upstate New York to Oklahoma City, the trip was pretty uneventful, long stretches of road where neither of us talked for hours, I dozed off for a good chunk of the time. Other times we had the radio tuned to talk radio and everything there is right wing and/or religious. I don’t really follow politics or care much about any of the issues they talk about, but really listening to some of these people I have to imagine any sane person with even a little bit of education that I know in real life would agree with me that literally every single thing some of these people were talking about was complete crap. One show we listened to in Missouri (the state where I thought [for the second time now] that I was about to be raped at any minute by some cackling redneck) had a show talking about how bad video games were. The woman prefaced the story with “Video games, like other horrible things like abortion, pornography and homosexuality…” The people calling in were worse. I briefly thought of calling in but realized even trying reason with folks down there is probably not even fun. Dennis Miller has a show, where he complained about Barack Obama and so did his callers. My idea of politics especially after this recent election is its just listening to people complaining and arguing about how they think things should be done. I’m not sure I can think of something worse than this. Conversations about the weather may be a close second. I didn’t really let listening to these fools ruin anything for me; there are people out there who think their opinions matter, what can I do about that? Yeah, ignore them.
I won’t bore you with the details of the rest of part 1 of this trip as it’s also something I don’t feel like reflecting on right now especially that momentum has already started moving forward.

"I trust no emotion
I believe in locomotion
But I've turned to rust as we've discussed"

I caught a train out of Oklahoma City early Tuesday morning for a brief four hour journey south to Ft Worth, Texas. The night before I left, I slept about two and a half hours. Monday night. The next time I would go to sleep would be Thursday night/Friday Morning around 3:30 AM.

The double-decker train was an empty train, a pleasure compared to the rest of the trip which was back to back full trains. Arriving in Ft Worth it was hot as piss outside and although as the case with most train stations it was a shady area of town, I only got approached by one guy asking for change to “buy an ice cream”. I hate having tons of change in my pockets especially if I am going to be sitting for long periods of time I handed him a handful of dimes and pennies and he made his way into the train station and did indeed come out a few minutes earlier with an ice cream. Who doesn’t love an honest beggar? I would also meet an honest beggar in Chicago who asked for money for “The Jack Daniels Foundation”, I of course gave him a crisp dollar bill. I did quite a bit of writing on the trains, and since I didn’t really have a full night of sleep over three days some of it made no sense. Here is some of it:

“6. If enemies are not close. You will automatic win any battle. For I will move far from.”

“When I reach California I will burn this book finally. Words in here from 1992. Some guy in 1992 wrote about long forgotten women. Such messy writing that I purposely used so no one could read it if they found. Who knows who all of these spirits are in here, I can’t imagine I will ever need to refer back to this to improve anything in my life. I will throw this book in a barrel. Like in Repo Man when they have the ‘Plate-o-shrimp’ conversation. You know, like dudes under bridges in Los Angeles burning shit in barrels. Having a couple of beers”

“Feel like I will start seeing things any minute now. I haven’t had a proper night’s sleep in whateveramountofdays now. I feel like ripping this map in front of me into a trillion little pieces. I stare at it and the schedule for hours. Not minutes, hours. This is all you can do here sit and wait sit and wait sit and wait. People are off sleeping, sweating and smelling up that car back there. This thick warm bad breathy hospital silence lit by a thin strip of lights on the ceiling as you sway to the back of each car trying not to bump heads and legs spilling into the aisle. You get good at this acrobatic feat by the end of the trip. Even in the shape I am in, like if I tried to operate heavy machinery, it would not be pretty. I can’t believe that this trip take 24 fucking hours to get from Chicago to Boston. It sounds like some sort of trap the Gods of confusion set. Let’s make this guy think something is true that isn’t true. Wait, what? Some moments here I blink my eyes but they don’t re-open. I enjoy sitting in these cars writing even though I just saw stars while writing that last sentence. I saw an Amish woman at a pay phone at the Chicago train station”

The first half of this trip was pretty depressing for the most part. The second half I met a number of people that I spent a good amount of time with and finally as painfully tiring the trip was I felt like I was having a good time and was able to keep my mind in other places other than where it actually was. This first group of people I saw for a couple of days walking around and hanging together. A young man about 22, but maybe younger. Big tall, could be menacing, but a baby face. At least 6’ 4”. Also, had one leg and was on a crutch. There were two other girls, around the same age. One was a nerdy looking girl, glasses with a jeweled chain on them to hang from her neck whatever those are called I have no idea. Other girl seemed young and sheltered, kind of an unfortunate look that I won’t go into but let us say she kind of looked like this bass player from a Canadian rock band I won’t mention the name of. I kind of got the vibe that this girl was sort of a pain in the ass and these other kids did not like her. When I did meet the three of them, at the end of my trip to Chicago, or about four hours left in that journey they were mean to her. Right to her face. The young girl did not understand sarcasm and was getting ruined and not knowing it. I felt kind of bad and then remembered this is how young kids are, they judge and judge and pick on and pick on until they eventually settle in on some set of standards which is: Be a dick. Don’t be a dick. I picked the latter when it was my time. On the other hand, these other two, the nerdy white girl who did in fact know things about Star Trek and asked me “is that Gandalf?” regarding a tattoo on my arm seemed to have been around, and this kid with one leg. He was writing in some little notebook. At first when I saw him I said to myself “jeez, fucking trench coat mafia over here”. Same sort of reaction you have if you see like a Juggalo (or the more rare but better Jugallete!). You always say to yourself “Oh yup a juggallo…where’s the hatchet man thingy? Oh yup there it is on his thing there, does he have the…oh yeah there’s that thing too they all have.” And then you go on wondering what Insane Clown Posse even sound like and wondering why people hate ICP fans. There is clearly not one good reason to care about these people good or bad is there? This kid though, here I am judging him the second I see him, meanwhile I looked like an even bigger asshole on a number of occasions from age 10 to say age….39 so yeah. He was a nice kid, the nerdy girl was nice but I could see was a little too “oh my god I am in art school, check me out” for me. The annoying young girl would be on my next train from Chicago to Boston. She was going to Ohio somewhere with her mom. These people looked like they stepped off the set of Little House on the Prairie. The girl may have been annoying, but was 18 and probably never left the little town in Arizona she was from. She sat with me on the next train in the lounge car while a line of folks waited for food, coffee and drinks. She was very loud and told me a story of some young kid who ran his car into a metal fence at her school and blah blah blah eventually winding her way to September 11th somehow telling me in an un-ironic way “now that is a day I will NEVER forget”. I replied, “well yeah, you’re not supposed to forget that day”. She mentioned they had it on the television at her school when it happened and I told her we had a similar situation when I was in high school when the space shuttle with Christa McAuliffe blew up. She said “was that Apollo 13?”. I said “I’m not that old, jeez”. The whole time the line of people can hear every word of this painful conversation until finally she leaves and people stop looking at me and having eye-rolling contests with me. I never saw her again.

I met some interesting artists and musicians later in the evening, a tall pretty girl from Portland, Oregon originally from New Hampshire. We both thought we looked familiar but I think she was much younger which leads me to believe we probably do not know each other at all. I talked with her and these two artists from the Oakland area, one also played guitar and trombone with Citizen Fish. Very cool down to earth people I enjoyed shooting the shit with for a few hours.

The last day of the trip my head and body were gone. I spent the better part of the day dozing off for a few seconds here and a few seconds there. I probably looked like I was on drugs. The last time I felt semi-normal on this part of this journey was for my long layover in Chicago where I left the station, went to the Sears Tower, shot up the elevator but the lines were too long for the deck so I just went back to the lobby and had steak and some sangria before heading back to a Starbucks to charge my phones and then back to the station to wait. It was nice not moving back and forth on a train. Had a couple of good phone calls and then back to hell.

The evening is when I met these folks above. The next day, the last day where I never even attempted to go to sleep until I eventually reached the critical/best point of being exhausted the “now I’m completely wired and don’t even know what it feels like to be tired”. From around noon on the last day until we arrived in Boston around 10:30 PM I was wired. I spent about three or four hours with this African-American woman maybe in her early 50’s. She was a writer and also a minister . We talked about life for a long time and it was great. She was an intense person and we connected on all sorts of subjects. One of those people you meet along the way that gives off a cool vibe. She has a book available online that I am going to check out. One thing I enjoy about taking these trains is you are trapped on this thing with these people and you are kind of forced to talked to them for hours at a time as long as they are willing to do the same. Most of the time it turns out to be a great conversation. As I was saying to the woman “everyone’s story is interesting on some level. If they have the gift to tell a story then that story is even better”
I spent the remainder of the day with a guy named Dennis. He was from Milwaukee and was heading to Dorchester to see his mother who was sick. Dennis, turning 50 drives a tractor trailer, and has been with the same woman for I think he said twenty-six years. He kind of looked like Snoop Dogg, which I’m sure he would take as an insult as he told me he didn’t like rap music. He had some great stories of driving trucks in different parts of the country. We both mentioned different parts of the country we enjoyed seeing. He clearly has more miles on me and more states but I feel like I have enough experience to talk about a number of places in the US anyway. One thing I really like with sitting with some of these strangers for hours is how much you can learn about people if they are willing to tell stories and are as bored as you are with just sleeping in your seat all day. So hanging with him until the last few minutes of the journey was great as we were still swapping stories about areas of Massachusetts. Good times indeed. There were a number of other people I spent some time with but most of them weren’t as interesting or were kind of messed up.
Best part of this trip was probably the last couple of days. It was a long mentally and physically exhausting trip that I still haven’t fully absorbed. If anything it was an exercise in patience and a preview of the lengths of road I have to travel myself in August. I forgot how long some of these drives get. A three hour chunk of driving through nowhere has the feel of a five hour chunk of driving. The August trip has an ultimately happier ending for the most part, and I will have a laptop by then for documenting that trip as I go with hopefully less stream of conscious than this, which I am not even going to proofread. Here it is.

pics from the trip are here

Dear God,
I had just finished getting my blonde dreadlocks up in a ponytail when Bill called me to tell me he would be by any minute. We were going to see TOOL IN CONCERT. I still had no idea if I wanted to wear my Nine Inch Nails shirt or my White Zombie hoodie. OR MAYBE BOTH! I was going to a Tool concert for the fifth time. Let me tell you, Tool is one of the best bands because they are awesome musicians and the singer is like all fucked up and writes awesome lyrics. He is totally twisted. Like this one time on a Tool record they had this guy speaking in German, he sounded like a Nazi or something. It turns out the guy is reciting some recipe! HAHA! That is so cutting edge and intense when I had my cousin who was in the army translate it for me I laughed so hard I spit my Bud Ice all over his copy of Rancid’s Let’s Go! (Which was okay with me because Rancid are not that great, they play punk music which doesn’t take any talent at all to play, like the guys in Tool would never be caught dead playing this simple cheesy three chord stuff and running around stage with leather jackets.)
On the way to the TOOL CONCERT we had to pick up our friend Cynthia. Cynthia is pretty cool, she’s kind of fat but has an okay face and likes pretty good music so it’s all good. One time I almost made out with Cynthia at this party after an Evanescence concert but her mom text messaged her that their dog was sick so she had to go. So we pick up Cynthia and of course she needs us to stop so she can grab a pack of Marlboro Lights and a Diet Mountain Dew.

We arrived at the TOOL CONCERT and it was awesome. All sorts of awesome people there ready for the best band ever to play us a concert. Then they came out on stage. I went into the pit for the first few songs but had to use the bathroom during one of the songs off that Laeturalus or however you spell it album which I don’t like that much. I mean it’s still an awesome album because the music is performed by the guys in Tool who are all top notch musicians who play technical music. Some of the songs on Leaturalius though were so weird I had to force myself to like the music on it which is all good. I just assume the songs are catchy in some weird alternate universe that only Maynard, the lead singer of Tool knows about. LOL.

They had an awesome light show going on during the concert.

After the TOOL CONCERT, we went to the back of the arena and tried to meet the band at their bus but they never came out. Cynthia met some weird guy with one of those Bluetooth things in his ear though. We hung around outside of the bus for about two hours smoking cigarettes and high fiving some of the other Tool fans walking by. They had also just witnessed an awesome concert by TOOL.

We then left the concert area and went to a Denny’s for breakfast. It was awesome in there. These gay club people were in there that probably listened to rap music or something stupid and talentless like Justin Timberlake. All the girls looked like sluts and the guys smelled of cologne. These people probably have no idea that Tool exist, or maybe they heard them on MTV and thought they were cool for listening to that song Prison Sex which is a good song and all but it’s one of the popular ones so it’s not like a song the real fans like. At one point in Denny’s we were laughing and making noise and throwing things around. We barely had enough money to pay the bill so we only left 80 cents for a tip on a $23 bill. LOL. I’m sure the lady was okay though as the place was packed. All those stupid disco clubbers looked like they had money.

We dropped Cynthia off and then Bill dropped me off. I’d have to say this was one of the best nights of my life I’ve ever had thanks to the TOOL CONCERT.

I arrived in Monterey Wednesday afternoon and headed straight to Cannery Row. I spent the last few months reading a number of John Steinbeck books, two of which took place in this very area, Cannery Row and Tortilla Flat. Although the camaraderie obviously isn’t the same as it was in these stories, walking among the shops at dusk as most of them were closing their doors for the day I felt a small sense of community between the shop employees who spend hours a day together, much like you feel at any nine to five job whether you like the people you work with or don’t. Some of the older, weathered looking men running the little carts selling various tourist related items will most likely die here, doing what they love; spending time on the water happy to service folks from all around the world. It was depressing and admirable at the same time. The bittersweet emotions experienced here in my brief pass through will be something I’ll always remember especially as it was the one place I was looking forward to visiting the most on this trip.

Both of my meals on Cannery Row I ate outside, the lunch right on the water overlooking the harbor (the pic above was the view from where I ate), and later on my dinner at an okay barbecue place that overlooked a walkway. An odd mix of bohemian bicyclists, homeless men who weren’t pushy like the ones in bigger areas like Los Angeles and San Francisco gathered on the bricks. You could see some character in these folks by the way they carried themselves, unlike the city versions which are generally guys with funny signs “I need money for beer, I won’t lie”, etc. Good for a laugh, but I’d rather give a cigarette to one of these Monterey guys than a quarter to one of these guys in the city.

I got to San Francisco late afternoon on Wednesday, checked into my hotel and then made my way down to AT & T Park to see a San Francisco Giants game. They were playing the first place Arizona Diamondbacks, and from what I read today they were eliminated from any playoff spot after this loss. The game was good, the park was really nice, and I scored a ticket at the box office for $42 about 25 rows back from home plate.

This would never happen at Fenway Park! It is kind of surreal how much adoration the city has for Barry Bonds (who didn't play!), widely considered someone who cheated his way into the record books, and although I had nothing invested in this game or team
I still cheered for the home team, even though I was sporting my Red Sox hat. It was nice to see

a baseball game, something I didn't do in Boston this year. I stayed until around the eight inning and left as for some reason I thought it would be a good idea to not bring a jacket or sweatshirt with me on this trip to a baseball park that sits on the water in late September. I briefly considered buying a sweatshirt but then realized I would then be the owner of a San Francisco Giants sweatshirt, it would kind of be like if I decided to start buying every Barbra Streisand record from 1985 on. Actually it wouldn't be like that at all.

This afternoon I went to the city, walked around the Fishermans Wharf area, got annoyed at rude tourists who have no idea how to deal with a sidewalk (mostly French people), or saying excuse me. Sure Europeans brought us great art, food and music, when it comes down to general manners and "street knowledge" they make me wish I had a Tazer Gun. Imagine the joy one would receive walking down a narrow sidewalk while a group of braless women and men in sandals stopped and blocked you from walking, ignoring you when you say excuse me if you pulled one of these out and just shocked them in the neck, their bright blue eyes staring at you in horror as they fall to the ground as the contents of their mesh bag spills on the filthy sidewalk!

I had an okay lunch (clam chowder and some fried oysters) at a small cafe off the pier and came to the conclusion that, aside from the delicious lunch I had in Monterey (Sesame crusted Mahi Mahi with a papaya mango salsa), seafood in New England is much better. For those keeping track so far, baseball and seafood are better in Massachusetts than in Northern California. The other thing that sucked in this area was I was trying to get this fucking picture taken but this guy in the bottom left was chatting on his cell so it was kind of ruined. With the awesome zoom on this new camera I have I got a good look at him. I mean he even looks like an asshole. What could be possibly be talking to the person on the other end about? Who has that hairdo?!

After this experience, I decided to get in the car and find something a little less...something. I sat on this beach with an amazing view of the Golden Gate Bridge for a bit and then made my way to Haight Street to find Amoeba Records. I was in there for maybe seven minutes before leaving, deciding I would wait until I get back to Los Angeles before worrying about buying music. I tried to find a good used book store but the parking meter only allowed one hour so I bailed. The area was a little much for me, definitely one of those areas where you need to have sunglasses on to avoid eye contact with anyone. Once you make eye contact people want something from you, money, cigarettes, to tell you their life story, etc. I'm definitely at a point in my life where filthy looking people need to be avoided at all costs.

This evening my friend Gena came and picked me up and we went to dinner in the city and she game me a great tour of the city. I had absolutely no idea where the hell we were half of the time, and my sense of direction was once again none existent in a foreign city. She was a great tour guide, we saw hookers, transvestites, stood behind the Macy's sign on the roof of a very tall building which was basically the outdoor patio of a restaurant I used the bathroom in, The Mission, Coit Tower and every other thing I didn't see by myself. She has a good sense of humor and isn't easily offended so that was refreshing, especially as for the majority of this trip so far my conversation (aside from talking on the cell phone) was limited to ordering food and checking into hotels.

I took a bunch more pictures, but as it's now 3:29 AM I should probably stop and deal with the rest of the pictures in a couple of days. Back to Los Angeles tomorrow morning. I'm taking the faster route (inland).

Yeah.

I’m in South San Francisco now, too tired last night to do any writing. Yesterday I made my way from San Luis Obispo to Monterey along the Pacific Coast Highway. The drive was just long enough to start to grow tiresome, and short enough to not completely exhaust myself, and still have plenty of daylight to explore Cannery Row as well as some other areas of the beautiful Monterey seaside. After a brief breakfast at a chain restaurant where the hostess told me she “liked my ink”, I asked directions to Morro Bay, presumably forgetting I had my GPS thingy with me. I basically asked “will that road lead me to that big rock?”. The big rock in question was Morro Rock, a “volcanic plug” whatever that is (according to Wikipedia). The town was pretty cool, small and consistent with most of the towns on the water I encountered the last couple of days: fishermen types, surfers, laid back folk with blonde hair that probably know a thing or two about marijuana and Bermuda shorts. Here are some pics I took at the rock:
The rock, and then some surfer guy that looked like some sort of Russian villain from a James Bond film.

I drove a little more and came upon an area that said "elephant seal viewing area". I had no idea what this meant, and assumed there would be these gigantic seals on the beach doing tricks, etc. What I found basically looked like the Jim Jones massacre with a number of what I assumed were dead seals on the sand. After reading the little posts, this is apparently what they do...look dead.

I guess they're cute. Who the fuck knows.

After this area, the drive got real long, a lot of desolate areas, amazing views as one would expect in this area of the country. One thing I noticed after a couple hours and miles and miles of intense cliffs and ocean views was how much you ignore what's going on to your right, mountains stretching up to the sky, vast emptiness where nobody has probably ever walked, and probably never will. The pictures kind of speak for themselves. Spotted that little lizard on the ground by the bridge.

Also, and I definitely don’t condone this kind of thing, but I took some video while driving, as well as at Bixby Bridge, which was kind of scary as I really hate heights. So yeah. The internet connection in this hotel is as useless as anything so I can’t load anymore pictures, I'll do more tomorrow.

Happy September 11th! Is that what you're supposed to say now? Probably not...

Haven’t been able to get on the internet in Los Angeles, now in the confines of this Days Inn I have a connection.

Got to Los Angeles Saturday afternoon, on my airplane from Dallas to Burbank was Jamie Farr from M.A.S.H. fame; he seemed like a nice guy, talking to some folks while waiting for his luggage, his nose is as big as you would think, so perhaps the camera doesn’t add anything to noses on the television.

It’s early in the morning of the second day of my “trip within a trip”. I’m driving up the coast to San Francisco, and although I haven’t seen much actual coast as a good chunk of the drive yesterday was inland, I did get to see vast vineyards, strawberry fields complete with Mexicans with those hats they wear, etc. I’m staying in San Luis Obispo, arrived here yesterday afternoon. It’s a nice little town with plenty of little shops, college kids with presumably bad ideas in their heads, breathtaking views of mountains surrounding it. Of course by the end of the night last night I end up in some little area with a Starbucks, The Gap, Barnes and Noble, etc. I did find a great used book store where I found a book on the Beach Boys and the Nixon book All the Presidents Men which I’ve wanted to read for a while.

Speaking of reading, last night I went out to the little patio they have here where you can smoke and sit at a little table and started reading this Cormac McCarthy book, No Country for Old Men which started off pretty frighteningly intense. I scare myself easy, so now when I’m driving through any areas that are devoid of humans I am probably going to think of this book and hope I don’t get trapped anywhere in the middle of nowhere.

When I arrived at this hotel yesterday I was walking up to my room and there was an older gentleman outside smoking, probably late 60’s, shorter than me, one of those button-up cowboy shirts, glasses with tinted lenses, kind of a hardened look of someone definitely from the west. We exchanged words, made a joke about not being able to smoke in the rooms and that was that. This morning I was up at 6:30 or so as I presume I’m still on Eastern time, I went outside to check out the Continental Breakfast (which is a scam right? I wonder if anyone has ever left a Continental Breakfast and said to themselves “wow, that coffee was delicious, and fuck, I’m full, I won’t be able to eat for another five hours. Those little muffins and the lukewarm milk really hit the spot” A far cry from the absolutely delicious omelet I had before I left Los Angeles yesterday, which I’ve just remembered was far too expensive. A $17.00 breakfast for one person. I ordered orange juice, and when the bill came it was $3.95. Jesus, come on. I guess I could make a joke about how it was a Jewish deli but I won’t make that joke.) and I’m sitting at the little table outside smoking and I see my little smoker cowboy friend from the previous day. He’s opening the back of a van with tinted windows, pulls out a black trash bag and goes back to his room. I’m thinking he’s either filling that with empty Coors Light cans, or with the parts of the waitress he drugged and mutilated last night. I guess that’s my cue to move along now.

Today, to Monterey, Carmel, Santa Cruz, etc. I’ll obviously take pictures today as this is when it’s supposed to start with the beautiful views, etc. It’s now a bit past 8:00 AM so I’m out.

Just found this on my lap top. it's now January. I evidently wrote this on my way back. Anyway, yeah.

4:52 AM in the Atlanta Airport listening to Mario Lanza on the iPod and people are running around getting ready for their day of work, or perhaps finishing for the day.

Thankfully, Richard Reed (the shoebomber- I think that was his name) taught me well and I snuck matches on to the airplane so I could smoke in this disgusting smoking lounge here in Atlanta that I’ve been to on more than one occasion. I don’t think I even slept on the plane. I was on the aisle seat next to a friendly Mexican gentleman who at one point asked me if he could use his cell phone on the plane. A few more hours and I’ll be home. Feels like I’ve been gone for five weeks. I can’t remember what New England feels like.

Last week of the trip we went to a Dodgers game (they lost), met up with some of my father’s friends and went to Universal Music in Santa Monica where I caught up with an old friend that worked at Rounder. We also went to downtown Los Angeles and looked at the giant Catholic Church, and the Disney theatre which were designed by some famous architects whose names escape me right now. The last night of the trip I met up with Laura and Noel in Santa Monica and had a couple of beers and watched Noel have her fortune read by two Siamese cats. A good amount of freaks down there, but not as in-your-face as they are on say, Hollywood Boulevard.

So on the airplane there was a young kid, about 19 maybe. Middle Eastern looking. The fucking kid would not sit still. First, I notice he’s wearing a wrist thing that says “Jihad”, reading The Koran. He was shuffling through his bags over and over for the first hour or so. At one point when the stewardess passed him he took pictures with a disposable camera of the cockpit area, which with me being initially only a tiny bit freaked out was a bit of relief as I imagined he was probably in on a plan to blow up a different plane. Perhaps I should report this to someone? Maybe I watch Fox News too much.

In Los Angeles now. I arrived last Thursday night around 9:00 PM. All told, 3,349 miles driven in six days. I didn’t spend much money on gas thanks to the economical car. The car, a new Chevy Impala was very comfortable which made the trip that much better. Having a small car for long exhausting road trips can be just that, exhausting. The same could be said for having a car with more than one person in it as well. It’s funny that they say you take a long trip by yourself on the road to “do some thinking”. After two or three days of driving seven hours or more a day the only thinking you’re doing is the math in your head when you see your next destination is 80 miles away and you’re driving 70-75 mph an hour which is basically an hour away. That and whatever song is being played on the stereo which if you’re by yourself and it’s a song you quite dig you’re probably immersed in music and not really thinking about anything. So, no I didn’t do any “soul searching” whatever that means anyway.

I have learned a few things since being here in LA for a few days now:

Evidently they do not have directional signals on their automobiles. You can just switch lanes whenever you want, completely disregarding the people behind you or at an intersection waiting to turn.

People are very impatient here, especially on the road. I was under the impression from past trips here that people were much better drivers here but I’ve come to realize that it’s very similar to the East Coast (the winners for Best Drivers on this whole trip are probably the people in the middle of the country on the highway. Granted you’re on a highway with five other cars for hours at a time passing each other over time, but people drive the speed limit and are in no real hurry to get anywhere). I wonder if everyone here is habitually late for everything and that’s why they are always in a hurry? Anyway, when I finally got into an area of California where traffic was heavy I was coming down from the high desert area and everyone was going 75-85 mph and I had to try and keep up. After driving at such an easy, laid back pace for six days it was a bit overwhelming to be among hundreds of douche-bags in Lexus’ (Lexi?) cutting in front of me at 80 mph with barely a car length in front of me. It brought a little bit of the Massachusetts driver back in me, or perhaps just my personality in general where I thought to myself “If I had my car I might be more of an asshole here and actually purposely hit one of these people with my car that is already banged up”. Anyway, after spending six days in a car being patient for the most part it’s a little bit of a bummer to be around so much impatience.

So aside from the people in cars here being slightly annoying I’m having a good time doing nothing for the most part. I saw a couple friends from back home who are out here, Noel and Laura and one of their friends Ryan the other day. We spent the day in Hollywood, went up to Mulholland Drive (sp?) and at one point drove down Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills playing that Rage Against the Machine song “Down Rodeo (“So now I’m rollin’ down Rodeo with a shotgun/last time these people saw a brown skinned-man was when their grandparents bought one”). That was pretty funny. We went into a shop where they had old rock concert shirts…for $48! Also, some atrocious costume jewelry; for example we saw a fake gold necklace with some stupid charm on it for $199. I mean if the terrorists really want to win they might consider hitting Beverly Hills next time. I probably shouldn’t say much though as I probably spent about $80 on food this day alone.

Another thing I learned here, you can’t get a cup of coffee any time of the day without having to drive around for three hours. Being a spoiled New Englander with a Dunkin Donuts always within walking distance of me it’s kind of sucks that there is only Starbucks here (one within walking distance that’s open until 11:00) and very little else. I haven’t had a plain old iced coffee in ten days now. I don’t think I’ve washed my hair in as many days as well. Heh.

I took a couple hundred pictures that I’ll put up somewhere else when I get home. Using a laptop without a mouse is a pain in the neck so cutting and pasting, dragging things, etc is hard so I’ll deal with it then.

The balloon says "I love Hooters" on the other side but I wasn't quick enough.

Cold in Arizona

Weird, one would assume everything in Arizona is hot. Last night I go across the road to get some coffee from this strange gas station/gift shop (which seems to be the norm out here), bring it back to the room and it's all of a sudden lukewarm. I've been up pretty early every morning; this morning I went down to the restaurant in this spacious Holiday Inn I'm in for breakfast. They are offering a breakfast buffet, which in itself just doesn't sound like a good idea. I mean the idea of ALL THE BACON YOU CAN EAT sounds like heaven for a portly fellow such as myself, but umm...there wasn't anything good. I got the standard eggs, potatoes, bacon and a small little bagel. One thing I've noticed "out here" is the bagels are all tiny, it's like only little dwarfs eat bagels. Anyway, eggs: cold, potatoes: cold, taste frozen, bacon: warm, not that bad, bagel: tiny(!). Having control over how you toast was the only saving ground for the meal in the first place, that and the ability to sit there and smoke cigarettes in a restaurant while reading my book over coffee was nice.

I just drove practically 3,000 miles and I'm talking about fucking breakfast. I am really starting to miss my own cooked food. I haven't been eating fast food constantly or anything but, it's nice to have a good cook such as myself cooking for me when I'm at home.

Went to the Grand Canyon yesterday and it was truly humbling and beautiful just like anyone who has ever seen it generally says. It was later in the day so I didn't get to spend as much time as I would have liked, but the two hours or so there was enough...for now. I'll definitely go back there. The drive there from Flagstaff was breathtaking as well, snaking through vast areas of nothingness and trees, open desert, etc.

Today is the last day of driving. I'm about 450 miles out of Los Angeles, there isn't much between here and there aside from the Mojave Desert and creepy Needles, CA so it should be an easy seven hours of driving with minimal stopping. I've been able to do every drive for the most part without having to stop for a restroom. The beauty of travelling alone!

Wh0a

"If you're going through hell, keep going"

-Winston Churchill

It's ironic how getting away from a routine (eg work, band rehearsal, going to the same Dunkin Donuts every day at the same time, etc) is great for a day or so and then it turns into a routine. Not that this is a bad routine, seeing some amazing stuff I might never see again, spending countless hours a day not speaking it's refreshing and I haven't gotten up one morning on this trip yet and said "shit, this is going to suck today". I knew what I was getting into when I decided to take the trip so there would be no reason for me not to be completely ready to spend a day driving 500 miles. Watching those signs that tease you "Amarillo 189 Miles" and then what seems like forty minutes later "Amarillo 176 Miles".

I am pretty close to Flagstaff and the Grand Canyon tonight (In Gallup, NM) so tomorrow will be a brief three hour drive. There isn't much between Flagstaff and Los Angeles aside from Las Vegas so I may go there tomorrow night and stay there, or just stay in Flagstaff and do the seven hour drive on Thursday...as long as I promise myself to leave early so as to not hit the Mojave Desert after the sun goes down. That's really been the only rule I've been trying to keep...minimal driving at night. Not that breaking down in the middle of the day in the middle of nowhere would be that much better, it might be just a bit more scary.

Went to Albuquerque this afternoon and had lunch at some old Mexican restaurant and took some photos.

The seemingly annoying train whistle that happens every forty five minutes of so here is actually quite pleasant sounding.

Popular music in the car this trip so far: The Minutemen, James Hunter, Chuck Berry, Hank Williams, Steely Dan, Neko Case, The Roots new one, Pedro the Lion.

Don’t mess with Texas

In Amarillo Texas after a mostly bland day. I didn’t do any site-seeing today aside from what was outside of my window, got pulled over in Oklahoma City and had my suitcase searched, a million questions, and was left with “We do things a little bit slower here in Oklahoma” from the generally nice policeman. After that I pretty much didn’t stop until I got here in Amarillo. I found this hotel “The Ritz” that was $39.95 a night. I walk in this pretty big place and should have taken my initial feelings of uncertainty after noticing the sign wasn’t lit up. The grand lobby with chandeliers, etc made it seem okay. I pay my money and make my way to the room. I walk in and immediately notice these huge bugs that look like black cockroaches with wings on the curtain and leave the room. I tell the guy at the counter I’ve decided to drive through the night and found this Holiday Inn that is huge with a pool, courtyard, comfy chairs inside, etc for a little more money. No bugs so far. Also, not sure if this is a smoking room or not. It’s interesting smoking in this situation as it’s like you’re on a ski trip in high school and you’re breaking some kind of rule. Initially I smoked a cigarette in the bathroom with the shower on so the steam would kill the smell. I then smoked by the little porch I have here and then realized it looks out upon a courtyard and someone might see me. Then I realized I was 36 years old and from Massachusetts and could give a shit less what will happen if they figure out I smoked in here tomorrow when I am already 92 miles away from here…and I paid cash.

I must say I am extremely glad I got to see a sunset here in Texas on the drive here. The road here from Oklahoma City was so straight I forgot how to use my steering wheel for a minute at one point. With nothing in front of you, behind you, or on either side of you it’s impossible to even explain how huge the sky looks. I can’t imagine there is a camera with the ability to capture it how it really is. I took a couple pictures while driving and while at a rest area (it sounds like someone is moving a gigantic safe across the floor in the room above me. Not sure why I picked “safe” there and not “piano”, “dead horse”, or “Wilfred Brimley’s corpse”).

Every guy I saw at a rest area, gas station, etc today looked like the kind of guy that would just punch you in the face after telling you how abortion stops a beating heart. That or they looked like the wrestler Stone Cold Steve Austin. Which I guess is the same kind of deal.

Car is at 2,071 miles now. Windshield and front grill of the car are dirtier than a landlord's soul.

Your tables so green



In Mt Vernon, MO this morning. Got here pretty early last night after an 8 hour driving day where I could have easily kept going into Oklahoma City. Regardless, I’m at a little over 1,500 miles now which for all intents and purposes is halfway there. Today will be spent going through Oklahoma and maybe staying in Amarillo, TX depending on the time of day…I may keep going into New Mexico. I plan on doing a good chunk of today on Rt 66 which I’m traveling alongside on Interstate 44 right now.

Yesterday was pretty eventful. Went to the Indianapolis Speedway Museum, got a brief tour of the inside of the track (the track itself was closed for a “private party”, which was kind of cool as there was one car going around the track, the sound and speed of that car was pretty intense and I can see why people like that racing so much). I took a bunch of pictures there.
















I decided to attempt to see this rock bridge outside of St Louis that is a famous Rt 66 stop, used the directions I had and got off the exit and realized I was in East St Louis which is basically one of the worst places in the country. Like Gary, Indiana, Compton, etc. There was trash everywhere, creepy looking extremely skinny people with no shoes walking around, run down houses, etc. I immediately got back on the highway and decided to go to the St Louis arch instead. I stood under it and took some pictures. What an amazing structure. Symbolically it serves as “the Gateway to the West” which was nice as I was quickly growing tired of the cornfields of Indiana and Illinois. Also, was proudly rocking the Red Sox hat wondering if I'd run into any Cardinals fans....did see a guy with Rams flags all over his truck and face painted blue and gold.





In Springfield, MO last night looking for a room to stay and I got a really weird vibe from the people and buildings there, kind of like the East St Louis thing but nicer looking. I drove another hour or so to where I am now and go into the truck stop and of course every person I walk by says hello and/or starts talking to you which is a welcome relief from what happens in the Northeast.

I didn't have internet access last night, thiswas from this morning, or wait last night. I don't know really.

A couple more pictures from the museum underneath the arch, and the Casino Queen on the Mississippi River.

John Mellencamp really loves this state?

What a long Frigging day yesterday…not in a bad way, just long. Left Rochester at 10:45 AM, my trip odometer was at 409 miles, it now says 1,050 so I made six-hundred and something miles in 13 hours (about three hours of stopping at the places below). I’m in Indianapolis, IN right now. I was pretty wired for most of the long drive so I may be able to beat that today. Once I hit Indiana last night around 10:00 PM th e speed limit changed to 70 mph which in reality was more like 75/80 and if you look on a map at Route 70 in Indiana it’s as straight as the day is long. Perfect temperature to have the windows open for the majority of yesterday’s ride as well.

Was up pretty early and went to The House of Guitars in Rochester for a bit which was just amazing, the stuff they had in there. It does not look as big as it does from the outside. I’d love to go back there when I have money to drop on a guitar.















I was going to hit the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame but missed it as I spent a couple of hours at this place:
















I imagine I’ll remember seeing that before I would remember seeing Robert Plant’s dragon pants or whatever. I can’t believe how close you can get to the edge of it, and the railing isn’t really that high.

This hotel I’m in now, which I assume is a respectable chain (La Quinta), and a little more expensive isn’t that great. The door to my room doesn’t lock, aside from the chain… but I can’t really leave the room…although I just did for the Continental breakfast, which is basically a fucking scam. They trumpet the continental breakfast like it’s the best thing that can happen to you on the road. The reality is, at least for someone like me who doesn’t get there at 6:00 AM, it’s the stuff in your kitchen that you don’t want to eat for breakfast. So I just walked down there around 8:30 this morning thinking nobody would be there and perhaps I could get a little coffee and come back here and write. I walk down there having literally just got up, in the clothes I slept in: gym shorts and this bright-ass green t-shirt, no shoes on looking like I just shot a whole bunch of heroin. There are of course 3 families sitting down there and a couple of women who look like church people. I grab a Styrofoam cup, go to the coffee thing and push it and it’s empty! I look around a little, look at the people, put the cup back down on the counter with the little drops of coffee in it and come back here defeated. Fuck. I went back a few minutes later and it was full. I kind of felt like The Dude from Lemobowski walking down there. I do have my bathrobe with me, perhaps tomorrow I’ll go to the continental breakfast in my robe.

This morning I’m going to go to the Indianapolis Speedway Museum before hitting the road. I don’t really know the first thing about auto racing but my boss and some of my friends do so I’m sure they can explain what I end up taking pictures of and why it’s important! Heh. I think today’s goal is Springfield, MO. I looked at a map and kind of forgot Illinois existed. It appears I have to drive through a pretty substantial piece of it.

Things I learned yesterday:

People that visit Niagra Falls don’t know the unwritten rule that when you walk on a sidewalk, walkway, staircase that is crowded you walk on the right side. Just like on the road!

People from India LOVE Niagra Falls.

Niagra Falls is pretty ghetto aside from the actual waterfall area. You get to the town and it’s pretty run down.

The guitar solo section of Rush’s Freewill is awesome.

When driving to Los Angeles from Boston never look at a map of the whole United States when you are only in Ohio and feel like you’ve already been driving for five days. Fuck that’s depressing. I always make it a rule to just look at the maps of each state as it makes it seem like less driving.

Oh yeah, gas prices out here!