In Which Our Hero Begins To Walk The Road

Been feeling a little quiet recently. Decisions being made and all, it's been sinking in and I'm starting to think about the best ways to go about accomplishing my new goals.

It's not a small thing. I need to plan. I need to not be impulsive about it. I am a fan of instant gratification, but that's a good way to fuck up a potentially great thing. I need to take my time and do things right. This really changes almost everything for me on a pretty fundamental level, and while that's exciting, it's also pretty scary.

Don't get me wrong, I'm still going to do it, I'm just going to exercise a bit of self control. My friend helped me put things in perspective yesterday. I was kind of complaining about how miserable I am with my job, and kvetching about how I don't know if I'm going to make it until July, which is when my company gives me a big bushel of money as part of the retirement plan. Which I get to keep when I go. So I wonder aloud if it's worth it and she says YES, she's been far more miserable for far less money, and that kinda shut me up.

Because really, I'm a very lucky guy, and I got no business looking gift ANYTHINGS in their mouths/beaks/ingesting orifices. I mean, really. The amount of money I'm talking about is enough to pay (cheap) rent for almost a year. I got no business taking chances with my future if I can help it.

Hobo Went A-Hoboin'

Up north again. I saw some things. Let's put together a few perfect days, shall we?

Saturday began with Space Nakji and The Cutest Girl In All of Denmark and some excellent breakfast. (San Jose Mercury News Headline: "Debate Rages Over Spanking")

I then drove them up to San Francisco, and then drove back to Santa Cruz to meet up with Rekabek. Her sister Gertrude and her boy Gaylord shared their cabin and view with me



we went for a hike to the ocean









and then the sun set and we walked back in the twilight



Later that evening I looked at the stars and smoked a pipe on the deck of the cabin. The smoke curled and blossomed like memories of the future and it felt like home for a short time.

The next day found me back in San Francisco.









Highway One twists down the coast. It's the most beautiful stretch of road I've ever driven.









and then the sun set and we swept south again.



My home may still be here in Southern California, but my heart and mind are drifting northward day by day, faster and faster...

Boy Howdy Have I Got Updates For You

I spent the weekend up in Santa Cruz and San Francisco. I took about a thousand photos, and I'll post a photo essay tonight. In the meantime, here's a list of things I learned this weekend:

• The proper pronunciation of "taqueria"


• There are some really nice highway patrol officers in Santa Barbara


• Drinking beer in a warm car by the ocean with great conversation and great music? Awesome.


• Big Sur is just as gorgeous as everyone says it is. And then some.


• Never make fun of how a Dane says "turtle"


• "Alexander the Crepe" is made mostly of asparagus. Which is great if you like asparagus


• If your apple butter is moldy (and not "a leaf"), you sometimes have to school your boyfriend


• The Starbucks in Daly City is FAR EASIER to get to than my GPS would have me believe


• Two people I'd never met before greeted me by saying "Hi Hobo!"


• The best garnish for cupcakes is bacon

UPDATE! I almost forgot! Remember when I told you that I now have a record player? And how I only have Bach records to play? WELL. That situation has been remedied in an EXTREMELY SATISFACTORY WAY. There we were, walking down Haight St. on Sunday night. It was chilly, we'd just had Ethiopian food with friends, and boyfriends were thick on the ground. Then we saw it. A pile of records leaning against a wall. I am now the proud owner of these:





I can't WAIT to try 'em out!

The Rainbow Connection

Man. I still miss Jim Henson.

Longer updates soon.

Ah, Yes. Personal Reinvention.

If you don't read Dinosaur Comics, you should. Especially this one.

I hope you are having an excellent weekend so far. Try to avoid being attacked and/or devoured.

A Fictional Conversation for a Friday

I want a puma.

What?

A puma.

I am afraid to ask why.

Go ahead, it's ok.

It doesn't have anything to do with the neighbor boy, does it?

...it might.

You're hedging.

No I'm not. It's more of a shrubbing. Denser and lower.

You can't really blame him. He's only 8.

Attila the Hun was only 7 when he invaded his first country.

That's a lie.

It's totally not! He did it after he got his Baby's First Pincer Movement set.

Really.

It's true! He rode a very small horse. A small, angry horse.

Let's get back to something slightly less ridiculous. Why do you want a puma?

You promise you won't be upset?

No.

Do you promise not to stab me?

If I do, I'll give you a head start.

Fair enough. I want it to poop on his lawn.

That's...unexpected. I was anticipating some sort of devouring, or an attack of some kind.

No. I'm just tired of his cat pooping in the marigolds. I'd like for the puma to devour his cat, and then poop it up on his lawn.

You just wanted to say "poop" and "puma" in the same sentence.

Get out of my head!

Best Headline You'll Read Today (Not This One)

False Priest Arrested for Selling Pope Tickets

I wonder what the penance for THAT one would be...

Still Feeling Random

I'm working on a little post about an adventure I had in Belgium. Here's a taste: "My guide was a Swiss/Armenian fur trapper who'd lost a leg in Mozambique while attempting to capture the fabled Jumping Llama of Lebombo. He'd forgotten that the jumping llama can shoot fire from special fire sacs between its ribs. Not a mistake he'd be making again soon. He walked with a limp but it only added to his swagger."

Car-related matters continue to make me want to shriek, turn into a bat and entangle myself in someone's hair, just out of spite. Note for bat lovers: only a bat who is Not Well would allow itself to get tangled in someone's hair. Because really, what do bats care about your hairdo? Unless it's a toupee. Then it could be a cozy liner for a bat nest.

I think I made the best compilation disc ever last week. I attempted a theme - the transition from melancholy to a sort of exuberance. I can't stop listening to it. Especially Ray LaMontagne's "How Come". Been singing along to this one at the top of my lungs for days now. Give it a listen and let me know what you think.

Finally, here's a photo from the archives:

Random Things

I need to start putting the cap on my toothpaste. Apparently a spider crawled in there and was very surprised to suddenly find himself on my toothbrush this morning.

I changed six lightbulbs today. It was either that or get night vision. I decided that surgery was too drastic.

I got a haircut and then smoked a pipe. Here is a photo that captures both events! Wow!



I decided to let my DirecTV subscription lapse and go with Netflix instead. The advantages of this are two-fold. First, Netflix is cheaper and I can get any movie I want lickety-split. Second, Netflix is already paid for this month and DirecTV isn't. Yay!

I was talking to my Mom yesterday about my impending move, and she was surprisingly supportive. She even mentioned that I might be able to make some cash by selling prints of some of my photography. It's worth thinking about!

I think I get my car back this week. It's been in the shop for a while, and I miss it.

I've managed to keep my resolution to take a photo every day and to write something every day. Here's a photo I took last Tuesday in Central California:



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I grew up just a few miles from where that was taken. It'll be nice to a) be someplace consistently beautiful again, and b) have the time to appreciate that beauty.

Spin Me Right Round, Baby, Right Round

I just bought a record player. Not just any record player. This one plays CDs. And it has a radio. AND it plays tapes. That's right. I can now listen to my Journey and Huey Lewis tapes. And maybe all of those mix tapes from high school, if I can dig 'em up. Wall of Voodoo and the Violent Femmes, anyone?

This purchase also means that I can play records, of course, which is the main reason for the buy. I need to expand my collection a bit, though. The only records I have belonged to my great grandfather, the one I never got to meet. So I'm sitting here in my bedroom, writing a little missive to the aether while Bach fills the air with violins and harpsichords, and I think about the man who is a part of me, who I've seen only in photos, and I wonder what he was like. Did he sit quietly with his eyes closed, hands flat on the table and let the music wash over him? Did it snatch his breath away sometimes, like it does to me?

The needle is painting a track through ghosts, and I wonder what they would say to me.

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

Ok kids, I'll keep this brief, because it's 3:30am, I haven't slept yet, and I'm not likely to. Here's the skinny. I went up to Santa Cruz this weekend, and a curious thing happened. The further I got from Southern California, the better I felt. My shoulders started to unclench, my heart rate slowed down, I started to smile for no particular reason. Then I hit the trees and general gorgeousness of the Santa Cruz area and the smile became a grin, and I started feeling really happy and weirdly content. I've never really felt that way before.

The good vibes continued as the fantastic Rekabek showed me around the place. We took the Hobo Tour, I learned about beets, and several adventures were had.

I also went to San Francisco to see Birdmonster play on New Year's Eve, but due to a shortage of cabs, I was unable to attend, and spent the evening reading this in my room at the hippie hotel.

So the point of all this? I think I'm gonna pack up and move up there sometime within the next six months. My job and my location are not making me happy right now, so it's time to do the hobo thing and move on to someplace new.

Oh, and here are some photos for you:



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