Not Bad for Day One

I had an interview today. For a job. A pretty good job.

We'll see how that pans out.

Interviews give me trouble sometimes. After they're over, I spend the rest of the day dissecting the whole ordeal, criticizing and nitpicking until I believe myself to be a complete idiot incapable of stringing together coherent sentences. Whenever anyone asks me to explain myself, I get a little flustered. Am I supposed to have a detailed outline with bullet points and segues and whatnot? That's more of a question that's answered easier over a beer or two... more interviews should take place in bars. Let's work on making that the norm.

So, we'll see how that pans out.

It would certainly be a boon for me to land a job so quickly. After all, the trip out here came with some unexpected costs, and I'm gonna be needing to find a place soon -- which is another subject altogether -- but, overall, I could go either way, to be honest with you. If I get the job, great, but if I don't, then that just gives me some more time to take the city in, which isn't a bad thing at all.

In fact, I'm gonna do some of that tomorrow as my friend Jen and I explore East LA. I'm sure it'll be a riot.

I probably shouldn't use the term "riot" anymore, being in Los Angeles and all.

It's too soon... too soon.


[Sittin' in a bar -- pickle in a jar -- in Jackson]

I Have Arrived

And I have sensory overload.

Everything is wonderful and new and odd and scary.

My new home.



[Let your love grow tall]

Who's Afraid of West Texas?

Still me.

However, I'm less afraid than I was. In fact, today's drive was a pleasant surprise. There were enough unexpected sights along the long road through Texas that it shook things up ever so slightly and produced many "oh, wow" moments.

Like this windfarm (which stretched on for miles and miles. Literally, for about a half hour, this is what I saw on every side of me.)



Can we just agree that Texas is awesome? I mean, come on. What's not to love?

I'll tell you what I love: Dallas. It's awesome. For a second there, I considered just unpacking my car right there and settling in -- maybe see if I can get a job as the new Cowboy's coach or something.

I'm in El Paso now, and I'm a little melancholy to be leaving this great state tomorrow. Think maybe I'll slip over into Juarez and see if I can't get some good tequila to perk me up... or just get kidnapped/murdered.

This time tomorrow, I should be in LA. It's finally here.


[The highway's jammed with broken heros on a last-chance power drive]

Roots

So, at the moment, I'm only a block away from the house I was originally brought home to as a newborn -- Mesquite, Texas.

And it feels good. It really does. Feels familiar, like it just "fits".

But I digress.

With my brand new alternator, I rolled out of West Memphis at 2pm with M. Ward blastin'. (That is, I was playing M. Ward loudly on my stereo. He was not, in fact, in my passenger seat carrying out the "shooting" part of a drive-by shooting.)

That last paragraph came to me at the very beginning of the day, and I've been waiting to write it down ever since. I'm not sure it plays, and consequently, I was too busy thinking about that all day to take in much else.

Not much else to say. It was an uneventful leg of the trip, which was most welcomed.

Tomorrow, though. Tomorrow, I go through West Texas. I don't need to tell you that West Texas is not only boring, but also terrifying.

So, I won't tell you. I'll let Anton tell you instead:

Needless to say, if anyone asks me to get out of my car, I will not. Not at all.

[Lord, I'm a fool for a lonesome train]

I Did A Song

Hope you like it.

"Graceland, Graceland [West] Memphis Tennessee" or "Stuck Inside of Memphis with the Texas Blues Again"

That car alarm has been going non-stop for five minutes.

I'm at the Ramada in West Memphis, Arkansas. If you're keeping score at home, West Memphis is almost Memphis... almost.

So, why am I in West Memphis? A questioned pondered by the great thinkers of every generation, and now, I ponder it myself. Luckily, I don't have to look too deep inside my soul to discover the answer. I just have to pop the hood on my car.

The alternator, as alternators do, has gone kaput, rather unexpectedly, in a state that I actually don't have a song lyric for. It's a shame. However, when I was trying to fix the electrical problem, which was initially incorrectly diagnosed as "bad connections" on the battery, I stopped at an Autozone in Osceola, AR. While the sales rep was fixing the loose ends, I though "Osceola, Arkansas with a broken connection" sounded like a pretty sweet song title, or at least a decent lyric.

So, I stuck with it and imagined someone like Jack White belting it out over a lo-fi piano recording, then, it was clear that my "broken connection" was something much worse.

All electrical systems failed. It was like I was being hit with an ion cannon. (If you're a girl and you understand that last part, I would like to propose, or at least get coffee). I pulled over to the side of the road and waited for a tow truck.

For three hours.

Apparently, when you're on the Tennessee/Arkansas border, things get confused, and it's impossible to explain to anyone over the phone exactly where you are.

And so, now, I sit in my hotel room, belly full of Waffle House fare, and I stick it out. Hoping against hope that the alternator can be replaced before Noon tomorrow, and I can be back out on that highway.

Headed towards the Lone Star State.

Yah!

[What do you do with the pieces of a broken heart?]

Michigan Seems Like a Dream to Me Now

I'm in Illinois at perhaps one of my favorite places in the world. Unfortunately, it's dark here, and chilly, which prevents me from running around fields of tall grass with no shoes and a sharpened stick. But I digress.

Today was a tough day emotionally. Lots of highs and lows. Lots of tears and mucus.

The music was classic travel music. A wonderful mix by my friend Amy took me out of Traverse City, and the Elizabethtown soundtrack brought me into GR.

Then, I said goodbye to two of my best friends. I don't know when I'll see them again, but I know I'll carry a piece of them with me in my heart for the rest of my life. They have meant so much to me these past few years. I can only hope to find friends half as good in LA.

After departing GR, the music switched to Arcade Fire, "Suburbs". That album was meant for the night, I think.

Driving through farmlands at night is a real treat. A large black expanse pockmarked with twinkling radio towers and family farms. It's like driving on the night sky.

Tomorrow is a long day. Fifteen hours, approximately.

And that's if I don't stop in Memphis for barbecue... If I don't stop...

[Graceland, Graceland...]

The Last Night in the Ol' Bailey Boarding House

Tomorrow, I set sail (metaphorically) for Los Angeles.

I'm packing now. Sorting through my possessions and deciding what to take, and what to cast off.

Chaff and the grain.

It's a strange feeling to pack your life into the back of a red Izuzu. It's surreal and a bit frightening, but sharpening as well.

The minimizing prevents me from getting too stressed. With less stuff, I feel there's less to worry about, and therefore, I'm left to focus on just the vital bits. It's a very streamlined way of living. Let's see how long that lasts in LA.

I realize that I haven't been the best warden of this blog in recent months. Chalk that up to a busy work schedule and a feeling of boredom and monotony in my environment. Hopefully, that wont be a problem in LA. I can't imagine feeling uninspired in a city so rich with new experiences and culture.

The blog will thrive again, oh yes. It will thrive.

The End of an Era?

My car died today.

I'm taking it pretty well, I'd say.

It was a teal Ford Escort, which served me well for the two years I drove it, but I never felt like it was "my car". I never felt I could love it, and care for it, and roll it into my identity. In fact, it was just the opposite. Often, I found myself apologizing for it, neglecting it, and feeling as if it was simply just a transport from point A to point B, as bland as white bread and water. Ultimately, that's what a car is for, I suppose; it just needs to get you from one place to the other -- that's bare minimum.

Now, I realize that I've been extremely lucky with cars, and that there's plenty of people out there that don't have vehicles and get along fine without them. Well, I'm not those people.

For me, a car is essential, I need it for my job, for my social life, and for my sanity. There's nothing more lyrical to me than an open road and a full tank of gas -- ten times a day, I'd trade anything to be in that situation. Maybe that says something about our culture, and I could spend hours dissecting the love affair between America and its cars, but I wont go into that, I'll just say this: "If the shoe fits: wear it."

The bottom line is that I want a car I can care about, something that I've bought with my hard-earned cash, something that I choose, not something that was handed down to me. Really, it's a rite of passage. It's about growing up.

And that's why I'm not too upset about it at this point. Yes, maybe I'm only looking at the sunny side of this and haven't fully grasped the consequences and financial impact this will have on me, but I do know this:

It's the end of the Escort era...

[I will survive]

Half the fun is getting there.

I'm just going to go ahead and term the entire trip as "the unintentional exploration of parts of Illinois and Indiana".

Such was my journey to the Farm.

I embarked from the fair Grand Rapids at around 6:30 in the evening, for, that is when I had finished with my work for the day.

The sun was high and golden, and there wasn't a cloud in sight. It was a beautiful time to be on the road.

The weather continued like this for the duration of the Michigan leg as I traveled South down the I-196 corridor. It was slow and calm and peaceful. My music of choice was the Elizabethtown soundtrack (specifically designed for such a trip) and I believe there was some Arcade fire in there as well.

Rounding the tail-end of Lake Michigan, I now found myself in Indiana, and a bladder full of raspberry tea, and so, a quick stop in Porter was in order to take care of the problem.

The pumps were packed, as was the giant warehouse of illegal fireworks across the street (let's think about that for moment). I parked my car and, while walking inside, spied one of those creepy, idiotic motorcyclists that still thinks Easy Rider is "liek teh best movie evar!1!!" Yeah, those guys. I wish I carried more random weapons in my car to appear more intimidating, but, I suppose that's what the New York accent is for.

My point is that you havent' really stared danger int he face until you've pulled over for gas at a truck stop in Indiana.

Moving along now, having missed my exit, I find myself in the thick of construction, and searching for a way out. Enter the iPhone, my trusty little electronic map (that requires batteries to use it. more on that later...) I use the iPhone to fine myself an alternate route.

Indiana 394 as it was just drifting into twilight. Ah, beauty. Rolling stones compelemented the setting sun perfectly, and a smoky-voiced Norah Jones took me through the maroon and deep purple of the dusk. This combination mixed with the country breezes wafting through the open windows and you have perfection, magic, enchantment, so much so, that I missed my road... again.... while I was taking this picture... like an idiot...

To be fair, this being the Illinois countryside and all, the road wasn't exactly labeled.

It was, however, only a few minutes after I passed these towers that I realized I was lost for that was when I saw the sign welcoming back to Indiana. Curses.

I looked down at my traitorous phone, trying to parse the necessary information to right my course, and when I looked up, all had gone dark, and I entered the woods. For just a moment, I was tempted to run my car into the ditch, fearing I'd just entered a waking nightmare and Freddy Kreuger would be showing up at any moment.

But I suppressed that, and promptly turned around (cursing, of course) and drove back. Then, I took the picture on the left, and made my proper turn. Then, my phone died.

So, I had to pull out the ol' sextant and chart my way home using the stars.

I made it to my destination, of course, but now, I have scurvy.

I can only hope my trip back is as eventful.

Cheers,

[Wouldn't it be nice if we were older? Then we wouldn't have to wait so long]