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Moments like this

Real life, defined with a brush whose bristles are constantly changing, stiff or supple, short or longe, horsehair or steel-toothed, and the colors of the paint are not always colors but shades of grey...

This blog seems to be at an end. More like I want to start a new beginning, so I will elsewhere, as I have often done.

I miss certainty that I never knew I had, and I miss people I never knew I would lose. Such is the illusion of impermanence, one illusion I keep hoping not to be permanent ubiquitously.

I cannot control it, I cannot change it, I cannot make it anything more then what it is. I cannot do anything aside from throw sadness, madness, temper tantrums and too-small and weak fists at it's steel-reinforced concrete, breaking my knuckles and my hopes for some semblance of control--yet I still crave it, this reliable permanence, this predictable human temperament, wishing for Eden to be realer than the fairy tale it is.

...

I will write of the rest of my 2009 adventures here, but starting with my January dip in the Beverly Beach (Newport, Oregon) ocean with Allosaurus and the dogs Annie and Bella I will use a new blog, a link to which I will post.

Road trippin' with my two favorite allies, fully loaded we've got snacks and supplies

I have many road trips left to document.

San Francisco, Seattle, Newport, Bend, and the almost Bend Road trip...not sure I want to document that last one I took in the wee hours of 2010.

Also, many experiences I suppose. Art museum, death blows to my last romantic relationship, all the dates I have been on with various women since...or something. Dating doesn't make sense to me; I can't rightfully call them dates. I just find myself drawn to the women I am interested in, and try out being friends, and then maybe see where that goes. The rest is what it is, and happens how it does.

And Jeff, also known as Mongoose in my past writings; my musical brother, my friend of hidden suffering, my blood on the rocks of the bottom of the gorge he leapt into...

So much to do, so much to write.

"An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind"

Batgirl sits next to me describing her favorite Bat Men. I tell her the name I chose for her is appropriate because Alicia Silverstone has similar hair color in her role in Batman and Robin. Batgirl responds by saying George Clooney is hot. She later says Robin is hotter though. We both agree Christian Bale is the best Batman, and I list in descending order Michael Keaton, Val Kilmer and George Clooney. I then suggest Adam West was a better Batman (to be sure Adam West was awesome for the role).

I love Batgirl. Our sexual chemistry is no basis for a relationship, although the chemistry has produced nice results in the past. The relationship as friends is awesome and I love it. We are talking now about menstruation and IUD's.

Hormones interact with people in interesting ways. Batgirl, like Tigress, cannot stand the hormones in pills. Something strange happened with Tigress; our sexual chemistry seemed to change after she got it put in. I didn't want it as much, and I have no idea why. She still loved it, and probably wanted more then I gave her, but that was mostly due to distance as relating to our different living situations (Seattle and Portland). Unicorn also had different temperaments depending on which pill she was on, and different body shapes and weight. She went from a skinny B-cup all the way to her current double D curvacious self (I liked all versions of her myself).

Dumbass. Don't bring up images like that anymore.

Thanks, self! Good fuckin' advice! Let's let fuckin' go of this cliff, the ground may be fogged but as far as it my be, I will sink into the soil without falling down or cause cracks in the rock without blinking an eye, and I will continue walking.

***

Batgirl is finishing her Christmas wrapping. I have put my finger down several times over the ribbon for her to tie over, and I am happy to be back in this place, this place of reality where love is found without attachment.

This is what it's lke, what it's like to disappear, the music of the spheres still ringing in my ear

I miss Jeff. I miss what I used to have. I miss everything I have given up, everything I cannot go back to.

There are people who know I miss them, and there are people who, like Jeff, can never know my true feelings.

I would like to believe he can, I would like to believe he can read my thoughts as I type these words, see my tears as they stream down my face without sound, wonder at the music we could make if we only existed on the same plane...

___

In any event, Jeff, what I can do is celebrate who you are. To that end, I am starting a collection of memories, photographs, and other things related to you which I will be publishing as a Christmas present for your family and whomever else wants a copy. This is what I will be spending the next week on.

The blur that has been my life in the last month shows no sign of becoming more defined, the images are not any sharper, but my purpose is becoming clearer. To that end, I shall keep playing music, keep writing, keep learning, keep being, keep loving.

"I Write in the Sky Every Day"

Los Angeles. First impressions were from a downtown parking garage's rooftop, which I was told by an irritated garage employee I wasn't allowed on:

(Video coming later)

Darrin's apartment was my next stop. I felt particularly touristy as I walked the two blocks from his apartment to the parking garage, which oddly enough I had to go through a Carl's Junior and KFC on the ground floor to exit; the touristy feeling was probably owing to the luggage I was laden with as I walked to Darrin's (laptop, suitcase, guitar, and walking stick). I was relieved to find the building quickly and easily, especially given the sudden heat I was unaccustomed to after being used to temperatures hovering near freezing in Oregon.

Darrin's apartment is a nice place. Making it nice that evening was the food he cooked for us, combined with the strange but comforting feeling of having Portland in alien Los Angeles in the person of Darrin. Good place, good food.





***

After sleeping in a nice amount I woke up and decided to play my guitar somewhere that wasn't Darrin's apartment. So I got directions to Pershing Park, and was on my way.

On the way there, a tall gentleman named Isaac with dreadlocks, dark sunglasses and a gold tooth wearing business-like attire saw my guitar and struck up a conversation with me. He asked how long I had played, and shared of his own musical aspirations. He told me he wanted to make a video in one of the video demo recording booths in Hollywood (I am not sure exactly where these are at or where to find more info about them, no luck yet). He said his voice was his instrument, and proceeded to demonstrate by rapping as we walked.

I am not sure exactly where he was headed before he met me, perhaps the bus or perhaps elsewhere, but he ended up following me to Pershing Park as he continued to rap. I would describe his words more like spontaneous poetry than most of the formulaic and somewhat predictably-worded hip-hop on the radio, and he is a pretty talented guy. I asked him if he practiced often, and he thought a moment before he replied, "I write in the sky every day."

In the park, he rapped while I played guitar without conception of anything in particular, other than whatever came to my mind. I liked it, and he matched me without missing a beat whether I was playing major, minor, 12-bar or more free-form stuff. It rocked.

Pershing Park, unbeknownst to me until I got there, is a level in the classic skating game Tony Hawk's Pro Skater 3, one of the few games I have mastered in my life. Therefore, you can imagine how excited I was to see the actual park upon arrival. Here's a video of somebody playing the level on youtube:



I had many good times with this game.

Here are some photos of the actual park I took:






Before he left for the bus, Isaac exchanged contact info with me and gave me his email. He also gave me his cousin's business card, which points to http://www.stroymoyd.com. Apparently he had just supported his cousin's comedy act at UCLA. He invited me to perform at Unurban Cafe later, but I didn't end up making it...although in retrospect I wish I would have gone and played a couple songs for the open mic. Things turned out pretty fun anyway...

Later that evening I ended up at a party with Darrin's friend, and ended up hanging out with a random assortment of people, including a couple of somewhat attractive older woman who hit on me, a gay guy that also seemed to be hitting on me, another gay guy who didn't hit on me but told me I should go for Darrin's attractive female friend and also told me I should go for Darrin, explaining I can play for both teams before bemusedly knuckle-bumping me, and a kid who was the party hostess's son, who got me to play XBOX 360 with him. Oh, Los Angeles...

I ended up playing music with some of these characters, and it turns out Darrin's attractive female friend has a good voice (if I had everybody's names this would be less confusing, but I did not write this as soon as I should have, and I have forgotten names...not sure I would really like to describe them in too much detail for their own privacy reasons). The second gay guy also has musical talent, in addition to stories about things like having a bowl of M&M's being thrown at him by Jennifer Lopez, whom he describes as a "trash."

Oh, Los Angeles...

The next day, I made lunch for Darrin to pay him back for dinner the first night, macaroni and cheese and tuna with a bunch of random stuff thrown in (sour cream, additional cheese, miracle whip for the tuna. It turned out pretty awesome. Afterwards, I went upstairs, took most of my clothes off and chilled on the deserted rooftop pool area. I felt like I was on vacation.

That evening, I drove an hour out of my way to find the place where The Legend of Zelda: Hero of Time was screened at UCLA. It took awhile, mostly because I put the wrong address in my GPS and missed the first showing.

Luckily, there were two showings, and I made it in plenty of time for the second. I was distressed to find that parking was 7 dollars on campus in the garage, and ended having to drive a mile and a half away into a neighborhood that allowed non-resident parking. I was very pleased with myself...until I got lost on the way back to my car, which was annoying.

http://www.theherooftime.com/

This website has more info about the movie, and the public release in two days (December 14th) and where the movie can be streamed from. I met an interesting girl while I waited for the movie to start, who gave me her personal website's url (http://j4yx2.com) along with sharing other random conversation with me.

I gave another girl my number without asking for her name or even starting a conversation with her, just because I felt like it. I walked up to her, said "I have to give you my number." I then told her to get a hold of me if she ever wanted to talk to a random weird guy from Portland. I then walked away without saying anything else. She saved my number in her phone. I felt strangely good about the situation.

The movie, however...not so good. Pretty terrible, actually. But I loved it. I was interviewed by a writer for the Epoch times, who quoted me as "Mr. Triplett" in this review: http://www.theepochtimes.com/n2/content/view/25472/.
I struggled to not say how terrible I thought the film was, and focus on how much I loved it despite its faults. I wrote reviews on bad movies once upon a time, and loved slamming them in all their awfulness, but I don't have the heart to do that for a film shot on no budget, especially when the cast seemed to have so much fun with it.

Driving home that night was...interesting. After being relieved at finally locating my car (with the help of my GPS; would be in trouble without that) I drove around the beach for awhile as intense emotions punctuated conversations with close friends and family. More on that...never probably. I finally found a Wal-mart and slept for a few hours.

The next morning I made up my mind to return and set things right with Unicorn, without a clue as to how I was to do it. Didn't quite succeed, but that is another story I probably won't tell. After driving about 12 of the 15 hours, I found out my good friend Jeff Johnson was missing from his mother around two in the morning. Suddenly, everything changed.

Do you want to smoke out of the zong?

I don't care, Mr. Ferret, I don't care.

I am in Salem, and the time since Jeff died has felt like...a strange kind of fluid which is not at all fluid, a goo perhaps, a viscous liquid in which I am trapped, like sap that has no control over the outside temperature, a potential to be tapped like maple syrup or frozen into amber which mosquitoes may be drilled into for dinosaur DNA.

No, I have not smoked from a zong, or a joint, or any other mediums for illegal pleasure. I am, however, eager to chronicle my California road trips (I have been on two) and will do that soon, perhaps tonight. In the meantime, I have business to attend to.