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Even when I first came up with the idea for Aimless, I never expected the project to make me rich or famous. I always knew I was a major underdog because I am an amateur with amateur equipment and no connections.
All I had was hope. I hoped people would help me spread the word to reach a larger audience. I hoped people would recognize my insight so I could somehow reach the right person (or persons), who would subsequently become the connection I needed to make something out of this. I hoped calling it as I see it (instead of watering things down to present an entirely safe, rah rah, "America: Fuck Yeah!" story) would be compelling to people.
In other words, I ran Aimless much like the typical small business owner runs their failing business, hoping to reach a market that may or may not exist. Unlike small business owners, however, I could afford to do this because I didn't have a couple hundred grand riding on the success of my project. I had essentially nothing to lose by doing it my way.
I am very well aware that my style of conducting Aimless breaks almost all the rules of operating a successful conventional business; I always have been. But there has never been a "business" like Aimless, and I will not allow myself to tell a manufactured happy story instead of the real story. I will not disguise my true thoughts and feelings (which I know make me look like a total fuckface sometimes) to make myself appear as a heroic protagonist.
I am not a heroic protagonist!
There is so much completely stupid programming (presented as educational documentaries) on TV these days. To begin, we have Ghost Hunters, UFO Hunters, Paranormal State, and that show about psychic children. On each episode of each show, the premise is that someone is investigating something paranormal and will eventually present some kind of evidence of that paranormal activity. They keep you in suspense, making you believe there will eventually be some kind of answer or breakthrough, and then the show ends. It's like a soap opera, except they just leave you hanging forever because there is no next part; there is no answer. Yet with absolutely no evidence that there was ever even anything to investigate, the "investigators" always leave the spooky place and act like they accomplished something. (In reality, there's not even a problem, except for the things people made up in their heads. The only thing that makes these shows appear remotely, almost, sorta legit is the spooky noises dubbed onto the video in post-production.)
It's fucking ridiculous and totally unentertaining.
Then you have the "Modern-Marvels-turned-drama" shows, like Ice Road Truckers and some others I can't even name. Ice Road Truckers was a great topic for one episode of Modern Marvels, but it is a fucking stupid soap opera, just like all the other shows in that genre. Even Deadliest Catch, which I used to like, has become completely pointless.
I can't even begin to tell you how much more interesting an Aimless TV series would be than all the crap on TV today. Yes, even with my filthy mouth and unrefined demeanor. (Check out Anthony Bourdain. He's the fucking man!) You wouldn't believe the shit I see. You wouldn't believe the shit I do. You wouldn't believe the people I meet. And shit wouldn't even need to be edited to make it seem outrageous; my travels are 100 times more outrageous than any of that ultra-edited bullshit they're trying to make you believe is real.
I mean, I watched a new travel show last night with a host who is a "veteran travel guide." He told me Hoover Dam is on the border of California and Arizona... Your TV so easily makes you stupid.
All I'm saying is that Aimless would blow people's minds if they had access to it. No bullshit. No editing tricks. No catering budget. No lodging budget. Just an incredible expose of one guy's life as a traveling bum.
Unfortunately, I'm the only person who knows how incredible and entertaining it would be, and I don't know the right people.
Even without use of my normally good hand, I make the best-tasting pizza I've ever eaten. Even after a three-month hiatus in pizza-making, I make the best-tasting pizza I've ever eaten. Even with substandard equipment, I make the best-tasting pizza I've ever eaten. Even after eating literally thousands of my own pizzas, I make the best-tasting pizza I've ever eaten.
I'm not one of the best documentarians on the planet. I'm not one of the best bowlers on the planet. I'm not one of the best bloggers on the planet. I'm not one of the best hobos on the planet. I'm not even one of the best tramps on the planet.
But I make some of the best pizza on the planet and I know how to sell it and I know how to create happy customers that would return again and again for my pizza. Unfortunately, I don't have the resources to make that scenario a reality and I don't have anyone to back me in my efforts to make that scenario a reality. My parents have the resources to use me to make themselves rich (or at least very comfortable). They love eating my pizza, too. But they also think I'm the stupidest motherfucker that's ever walked this planet. Don't ask me why; it's just something they decided when I was just a kid, and nothing will ever change their minds about it.
If you've ever read the "supportive" comments from my dad, usually under the handle of "Twerky," "Gorf," "Anonymous," et al, it's all bullshit. Five minutes after he picked me up two weeks ago, he told me it's good that I was coming home because I've just been wasting my time out there. Less than 24 hours later, he told me to get out of his home.
Fuck You, Larry Steven Powell! You are no longer welcome to read this blog. You are no longer welcome in my life. You are a fucking piece of shit who has fucked my head for as long as I've been alive. I don't even know how to handle success or friendship because you've treated me like a failure (and physically abused me) since the day I was born. I know why I hate you, but I have no fucking idea why you've always hated me. I will be out of your precious house as soon as my hand heals, and I ain't never coming back.
That sad thing is, I'll probably cry when you die.
I'll probably hit the road again whenever my hand heals because I no longer have a home. Will I blog? I don't know. All I know is that I have a better chance of meeting someone who'll recognize my talents on the road than I do here. But for all I care, I'll be dead within a year.
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Aimless
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