Thursday, June 07, 2007

For the record...

Most of the cops I've encountered on this journey have been very cool to me. I've said it before and I will say it again (unless it changes). Usually they go by the book, running my drivers' license to make sure there are no warrants out for my arrest and whatnot. Every time they do it, though, they come up with nothing on me (because I am not a criminal), and most of them end up expressing quite an interest in what I'm doing. They usually end up asking me a lot of questions about Aimless, nicely.

However, a few cops have been assholes to me. Whenever that has happened, I've written about it here because this is a web log of my adventure. Whenever it may happen in the future, I will write about it again, just as I will write about the cool cops I encounter.

If you don't like the fact that I write about every side of this adventure, then tough shit. There are no rose-colored glasses here, and I do not play favorites. (I mean, why would anyone say nice things about people who have fucked with them for absolutely no reason? The way I see it, I can ignore it, thus perpetuating it, or I can talk realistically about the things that happen to me, which may actually make a positive difference.) I also will not change my methods or my personality for the sake of attracting sponsorship. I just call it as I see it, and that is one of the things that makes Aimless great.

* * * * *

While I'm talking about cops, I want to tell the story of what happened two nights ago, when my ride dropped me off a couple miles from my aunt and uncle's campground:

Shortly after I began walking down the road toward the campground, I reached an intersection. Having been there only once before, I knew I didn't want to go left and I was pretty sure I needed to turn right. The other option--straight ahead--appeared to be merely a driveway or an entrance to perhaps another campground. There was almost no lighting, so I couldn't tell that it was actually a road. Then I took a right.

After walking about two miles down the road to the right, I was beginning to feel pretty sure that I'd chosen the wrong road. Then a Jefferson County Sheriff's deputy pulled up on the other side of the road. He ran my driver's license and all that, eventually asking me to describe the place I was trying to find. Once I told him, he assured me I wasn't going to find it on that road. So after all the routine stuff, he let me put my stuff (and myself) in the back of his cruiser, then drove me back to the intersection and drove down the road I couldn't see before.

Pretty quickly I knew we were on the correct road. I just didn't know if I'd recognize the entrance to the campground. Well, when we approached the first campground, I recognized it as the one I'd been to before.

Long story short... I found my aunt and uncle's camper reasonably easily, thanking the deputy before he drove off to continue doing his job. That was about 2:00 AM. If not for his assistance, I would have been pretty screwed, probably getting no sleep that night and waiting at least until sunrise to call my aunt (still not knowing if they were even at the campground).

I sincerely appreciate your assistance, Mr. Deputy, and I wish I would have asked for your name so I could properly thank you. If you ever read this, please respond so I can include your name in the credits.

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Aimless
The Quasi-Aimless Trailer
If you'd like to contact me, call me at 614-738-3867.

You see what I'm dealing with?!?

There is a new comment on one of my short mobile posts, probably from "Deputy Dawg" or one of his retard cohorts. I believe it's worth viewing again. Oh yeah, and I commented, too.

Maybe the comment from this anonymous moron pussy will better help you understand why I occasionally write some pretty angry-sounding posts. Just try to put yourself in my place for a moment and think about how it might feel to be hassled by these fucking pricks all the time.

I'll get me some footage soon enough. Maybe I will go back to Florida, because that kind of footage would mean big money.

Does anyone out there know how to interpret these things?:
152.163.101.13
152.163.100.19
152.163.101.19
206.188.0.22
66.94.237.181
cache-rtc-aa15.proxy.aol.com
cache-rtc-ae09.proxy.aol.com
cache-rtc-ae15.proxy.aol.com
fasta.monitor110.com

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Aimless
The Quasi-Aimless Trailer
If you'd like to contact me, call me at 614-738-3867.

Lidia [last name removed]

The reporter I mentioned a couple days ago is Lidia [last name removed]. (Yeah, she IS real purdy-like.) I got a chance last night to respond to her question: "What is your documentary about?" Unfortunately, I was so wacked-out sleep deprived that I was unable to spit out my thoughts effectively in my e-mail message to her.

(Damn, she's pretty, don't you think? I'm dying to get my hands all over her countertops and baking chamber so I can make her a hot, mouth-watering pizza.)

Obviously she could not do a story about Aimless right now even if she wanted to because I am now in Mt. Carmel, Tennessee (probably at least 200 miles from her). But I was never worried about that, anyway. If any news crew wants to do a story about Aimless, that's cool, but I don't have my heart set on it or anything like that. Lidia, on the other hand, has repeatedly invaded my mind the last couple days. I have not met her in person or spoken to her, but I did see her walk by, and sometimes something like that can be a bit moving.

Temporary obsession, I guess. It'll probably go away within a week, though, if she doesn't contact me again. Besides, in a week I should be back in YSO, where maybe I'll see Miss Pathfinder and finally conjure the courage to approach her. I may not have mentioned her in a while, but I think about her very regularly.

If you read this, Lidia, this post is a small example of what I was talking about when I mentioned freedom. Y'see, a year ago I couldn't have said any of this unless I was completely anonymous. Even then I may have held back a lot because I lived in fear of what people might think. Now I don't. And let me tell ya: You look good to me and you seem like you have it together upstairs, so I can't help being attracted. And it's not because you're on TV, either.

I think I've been pretty clear about that, so call me sometime if you suspect there might be any kind of reciprocation. Hey, I'm just out here trying to meet the right people; maybe you're one of them.

Update: Actually Mt. Carmel (near Kingsport) is only about 150 miles from Greenville via I-26.

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Aimless
The Quasi-Aimless Trailer
If you'd like to contact me, call me at 614-738-3867.