Playing stupid

It appears that there is a new generation of cop shows hitting the air waves lately. I admit I've been watching some of them.

Naturally these programs universally portray cops as the protagonists, which clearly is the truth with almost every confrontation they show. In reality, though, cops are not always the good guys. Even in these videos, the cops are not always the good guys. Some of the cops blatantly disregard so many laws, it just blows my mind. But the ex-cop narrator never says a word about the cops' unlawful actions. He just blows his wad again and again as the sadistic abusers of authority "protect" people by victimizing them.

Anybody ever heard of that United States Constitution thing? It goes a little something like this:

Amendment IV
The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.

I can't tell you how many times I've seen video of cops violating this undeniable right of the American people. One example I saw recently involved a female cop who stopped a male driver for a minor traffic violation. The driver stopped the car and cooperated fully with the cop until she took his wallet from him and began looking through it.

That episode, to this point, constitutes an unlawful search and seizure, a clear violation of the Fourth Amendment to the United States Constitution. The cops have absolutely no right to take my wallet or your wallet or anyone else's wallet during a routine traffic stop.

After the cop took the driver's wallet and began violating one of the most basic rights given to EVERY HUMAN BEING who sets foot on American soil, the motorist was not very happy. So he tried to take his wallet back from her, as she had absolutely no justification to take it from him in the first place. However, believing she has every right to strip this man of his Constitutional FREEDOM, simply because she is a cop, the cop resisted, and the previously calm situation became something resembling a fight.

In the cop's mind, the situation had now become an "assault on an officer" or "resisting arrest," so she treated it as such. That is, after she provoked a peaceful man to forcibly--not violently--assert his rights, she had the balls to pretend her unlawful actions did not cause the whole episode. Of course, the cop never got in trouble for it. In fact, it appears as though the "justice" system thought of her as a hero after a subsequent illegal search of the man's vehicle netted a hefty amount of cocaine.

Oh, but the cocaine justifies everything, right?

No, it doesn't. And the fact that this kind of thing happens every day ought to scare the shit out of every American. The fact that most viewers of these cop shows don't know their Constitutional rights ought to scare the shit out of every American. The fact that our "protectors" are a bigger threat to our safety than "criminals" ought to scare the shit out of every American.

This stuff ought to scare you so shitless that you actually feel compelled to do something about it. Write a blog entry. Write to the producers of these shows. Tell your local police chief that your community will not tolerate abuse of authority. Press charges on the cop who stripped you of your rights. Just don't continue to allow this kind of behavior because it will happen to you someday if you keep playing stupid.

Pissing off cops is not illegal. Calling cops names is not illegal. Asserting your Constitutional rights to cops is not illegal. Fighting back is not illegal.

Protecting your liberty is not illegal. It is mandatory.

I don't dislike cops. I dislike bad cops.

Aimless
The Quasi-Aimless Trailer

For your editing pleasure

I've been really bored lately, but Stephen Colbert has saved me.

Last night on The Colbert Report, Stephen made some comments about Rahm Emanuel, a pussy congressman with no sense of humor. Emanuel has advised new arrivals in congress not to appear on Colbert's "Better Know A District" series because The Colbert Report edits the interviews to make the representatives look really stupid or outrageous. It's all fucking hilarious, and I would totally get a kick out of it if they did it to me. But many congressmen are pussies who cannot deal with looking stupid for a minute, even though everyone knows these interviews are doctored and otherwise manipulated.

So Stephen put himself through the same thing. He participated in a fake, scripted interview with someone on the show's staff so people like me can take the footage and edit it into something that makes him look like a total asshole. It's already god-damn funny, but it can be edited into something ridiculously funny, and I'm going to give it a try.

I might be really good at this. Not necessarily a good editor, but good at finding the right things to edit because I tend to get really focused on things that interest me. Couple that with the perfectionist and crossword puzzle freak inside, and I might end up making a totally bad-ass video. We'll see. I'm downloading the source video right now on my dad's Mac.

I think this is a contest, but I'm not sure. Time to get to work.

Aimless
The Quasi-Aimless Trailer

Goodbye to another friend

My little buddy Homer's heart stopped beating today at 3:14 PM EDT. He died peacefully.

Homer was very full of life until about six weeks ago, when the feline leukemia started kicking in, causing him to eat less and lose weight quickly. Even though I knew the end would come soon, I never gave up on him.

The thing that really sucks about this illness is that you can tell the cats really want to eat. When they hear you open that can of cat food, they immediately perk up and get all excited. Then, when you put a spoonful of food in their bowl, they just sniff it and look up at you like, "No, seriously. Give me something remotely edible." So you open another can of cat food and try again. Same result, so you do it again with a different flavor. But the cat still doesn't eat what you give him, so you start picking human food out of the refrigerator and pantry. Tuna, pepperoni, mozzarella, Skyline chili, hot dogs, etc. Occasionally you find something the cat will eat, but usually you can barely get the cat to eat anything.

Eventually the cat becomes nothing but skin and bone. With almost no fat or muscle remaining on the poor critter's body, he becomes very lethargic. You know the end is near, so you just shower him or her with as much love as you can.

I fucking hate this. I am so god-damn sick of losing all my little buddies like this.

Fortunately Twerk ("Tee-werk") tested negative for the disease last summer (when he had to have his leg amputated). Having tested negative, we made sure he got all the shots he needed, so he should live a long, healthy life. Regarding the amputated leg: He doesn't know the difference. He gets along just fine without it. I've noticed lately that sometimes he appears to use his right hind leg as a substitute for his missing front leg (like when he buries treasures).

Homer wasn't ready to go. He stayed around for at least a week longer than I expected. Fortunately for my sanity, he didn't seem to suffer. Even an hour before he died, after he'd become completely immobile, he would flip his tail when I said his name. That makes it a little easier for me to handle, but I still hate this.

I spent the final six hours of Homer's life right beside him, petting him and holding his paws. I hope that made it easier for him.

I love you, Homer. I'll miss you. Goodbye.

Aimless
The Quasi-Aimless Trailer

Keeping it real

I occasionally have to remind myself that I really don't care how much traffic the Aimless web site receives. Although sometimes it may appear as if I want everyone to know about Aimless--that I want everyone to think I'm doing something fabulous--really, I don't care. I have no reason to care because Aimless is a very personal project. In fact, it all grew out of a desire to just disappear, to become invisible.

Aimless has already been a success, even though I don't have much to show for it yet. I mean, I didn't even want to be alive a year ago, but I kind of enjoy living right now. Maybe it's because I am living, instead of just pretending to be alive, like most people do. Maybe it's because I decided for myself what constitutes real living, instead of buying into "conventional wisdom," which is total bullshit.

Still, I do care how much traffic the web site receives. Not because I want people to adore me or because I want people to think I'm important. No, it's because I want to reach the right people. I want to reach people who would like to be a part of Aimless, people who want to benefit from helping me create a professional documentary instead of a glorified home movie. I want to reach people who possess the ability to recognize how much I have to offer the world around me, regardless of whether it's through filmmaking, operating a profitable pizzeria, or just being a good thinker or writer. I want to reach people who understand the economics of life and living.

If I wanted to improve my odds of impressing people in high places, I could censor myself by deleting a lot of blog entries, like the one I wrote recently about getting fucked over by National City Bank. I could stop saying 'fuck' so much. I could subscribe to the myth that Wal-Mart actually saves people money instead of stealing their money. In other words, I could sacrifice my integritah and suck up to people with whom I'd rather not associate. It's the American Way.

Yeah, well maybe that's why American life has become so fucked up for most people.

I love the United States of America. I love the American people--liberals and conservatives alike. I love the Grand Canyon and the Rocky Mountains and Death Valley and New York City. I love rattlesnakes and great hamburgers. I love crazy people and homeless people, too.

I don't love the US government. I don't love illegal wars. I don't love banks or Wal-Mart or McDonald's or Barr Laboratories. I don't love fascism.

A lot of people believe the path to happiness lies in working your way up the corporate ladder, "networking" and impressing rich and powerful people along the way, either through merit or deception. I take a lot of shit from people like that for refusing to play the game. But isn't it funny how very few of those people seem remotely happy?

I think it is. (Not necessarily funny, but ironic.)

When you're a fraud, it doesn't get you anywhere. Not in professional relationships, nor personal relationships, nor romantic relationships. And by pretending to be the person you think the higher-ups want you to be, you also lose out once you finally encounter someone who's looking to team up with the person you would have become if you had only remained true to yourself.

Being a corporate ass kisser doesn't connect you with the right people. Being a "BUM" leads you to the right people. I know because I have met some of the most awesome people on the planet by being a bum. I may not have met the right person or people yet, but I have met good, honest, incredible people. And that was all in the span of about ten days.

You know why I think Dave Chappelle is so great? Not because he's famous or because he's funny or because he'd loaded. No, I admire Dave Chappelle because he is honest with himself and his world. He walked away from $55 million because he believed deep inside that the consequences were not worth the reward. He has taken a lot of shit from fans, "friends," and critics for walking away from Chappelle's Show and disappearing to Africa (because his decisions did not conform to "conventional wisdom"), but I'm positive he did the right thing.

I don't know Dave Chappelle, nor have I ever met him, but I do see him up close on a regular basis, and I see a happy man who can hang out in his hometown every day without being mobbed. I see a man with a beautiful family and a supportive environment. I see a dude who really has his shit together and has survived the temptations that ruined and killed so many other famous actors and comedians. I see a man who does good things for this world.

I most likely will meet Dave Chappelle sooner or later because I know a lot of people who know him. And who knows, maybe Dave will end up helping me with Aimless. One thing I do know, though, is that I'll never ask Dave Chappelle for money or monetary support, nor will I expect it, even if I end up knowing him well. And I take pride in the fact that I don't have selfish intentions.

I'm going to leave this place in about four weeks, to be a bum again for a long time--months or years. Except this time I'm really going to have nothing. No emergency credit card, no ATM card, and probably not even $100. I'll almost certainly be carrying the same crappy camcorder that I had with me in 2006, and it's very unlikely that I'll have a laptop by then. So what! I'll get by. I'll reduce myself to nothing and I'll get by. And I'll be much happier than I am right now, despite the pain, fatigue, hunger, and general discomfort I'll experience almost constantly.

I can't wait to get on the road again.

Thank you Brad Perkins and Luke Swilor for digging Aimless. Thanks also for posting stuff about Aimless on the drum corps forums, Brad. I really appreciate it, and someday I intend to show my appreciation instead of just saying I appreciate it.

Aimless
The Quasi-Aimless Trailer

The Daily Show

I want to be on the Daily Show. Not next week, not next month, but eventually. Perhaps whenever I Aimless my way to the New York City area. That would be cool, and I happen to believe I'm doing something worthy of earning me a few minutes of hanging out on TV with 'the man' Jon Stewart, as will become more evident in time.

Hell, I could even make an appearance "in character." I'd just take my dad's cheapo-ish camcorder onstage with me and tape the whole thing. That is, unless someone out there who fancies himself or herself a wise investor starts realizing that they could cash in by providing me some better equipment. Then I could take a nice prosumer camcorder on the show with me.

Now who's done that before?

I don't mean "Who has appeared on the Daily Show before in character?" because I can answer that one myself. What I mean is: Who has appeared on the Daily Show, creating their own independent video entertainment project at the same time as being the guest of the day's Daily Show? It's entertainment within entertainment. It's exponential! It's even better than having Chris Dodd on the show.

Jeez, they ought to be looking for people like me to invite onto the show occasionally anyway, instead of inviting a bunch of people whose only reasons for appearing are to complete the talk show circuit, to promote their big-budget films and books for big-business studios, publishers, and PR firms (and other shit like that).

So Jon Stewart, Google your name soon and follow the link to this blog entry.

Wait a minute, I probably ought to include some more words if I can expect this post to ever turn up near the top of a "Jon Stewart" search.

OK, I'll mention Stephen Colbert, too. Stephen Colbert: If you want to beat your mentor to it, I'm sure you could probably get me to appear on your show. Just talk to my people. (I am my people.)

Aimless: The Adventures of an American Vagabond
Quasi-Aimless Trailer

Biggest scam on the planet

Have you ever thought about how bad your bank rips you off?

First you give them all your money, which they turn into more money that you never see. Then they demand that you pay them service fees and maintenance fees and a hundred other fees. They charge you for the "convenience" of using certain ATMs, even though ATMs and the internet have saved them billions of dollars by eliminating labor, possibly putting you out of a job at the same time. And when they finally take all the money from your account, through these bogus fees and charges, they have the balls to send you a statement that says you owe them.

Your bank isn't providing any services for you. No, it's the exact opposite. You are providing services for your bank by allowing them to invest your money. In effect, you pay them to take advantage of you!

I do it, too.

Well, I did it until today.

* * * * *
I received a statement from National City Bank about a week ago. It was the first statement I'd received from them since I don't know when. The statement said I owe National City Bank $10.16--up from $3.16 a month earlier--due to maintenance fees on an account I haven't touched since November. (I admit it; I have a very high-maintenance bank account.)

Last time I took money from an ATM (in November), I received a receipt that told me I had a balance of about $18 in my account. Having received nothing from the bank between then and now, I was a little pissed off to learn that my $18 had somehow become -$10.16, or ($10.16) for all you accountants out there.

So I went to the bank today to take care of it. All I wanted was for them to turn the ($10.16) into $0 and close the account. I had no intentions of demanding a return of the $18 their employer stole from me. Just close the account and let me walk away, motherfuckers. And no, I didn't call them motherfuckers, nor was I the slightest bit rude to any bank employees. In fact, I informed the teller that I was pretty upset about the piece of paper I'd brought with me, and I told him right away, "If I end up getting defensive about this, I want you to know that my anger is not directed at you. I know you had nothing to do with this." But that doesn't matter anyway because, like I said, I was civil about it.

The teller was not able to solve my problem. He said he could reduce the balance to ($3.16), but he apparently did not have the authority to erase the entire negative balance. Additionally, he said the office manager was already gone for the day. The thing is, I wasn't going to allow National City Bank to steal even one more cent from me, so I asked him if he could give me an e-mail address for the office manager. After he mentioned something about the customer service department, I told him I don't want to talk to customer service people who are going to give me the runaround for two hours on the phone; I want to contact someone who can actually do something, so he gave me the office manager's card. Magically, though, the absent office manager's Wonder Twin powers instantly allowed her to take the shape of some other woman who'd been in the little cubicle right behind me since before I entered the bank.

The teller informed me I could speak to her.

(Just to be clear, I have no problem with how the teller interacted with me. He tried to do what he could, and he fed me the bullshit his superiors commanded him to feed me, but we all know he is essentially a powerless drone standing behind a counter with a computer. Like myself, he was civil.)

* * * * *
I walked over to the cubicle and began speaking with...

Andrea L. White
Office Manager
andrea.white2@nationalcity.com
National City Bank (Georgesville Square)
1699 Holt Road
Columbus, Ohio 43228

After I told her my objective--to erase the account balance and close the account--she started looking at her computer. Treating me like some kind of complete idiot (because, as everyone knows, all guys with long hair are stupid), she said all she could do is remove the most recent $7 maintenance fee because the previous fee did not occur within the last 45 days.

Unacceptable.

As I grew more persistent (yet completely civil), she grew angry because I wouldn't accept her fucking bullshit explanation. Then she made it personal. She insulted me. I can't remember what she said, but she became verbally abusive toward me. I said, "Look, I already told you I have no personal animosity toward you, but you just made it personal." Then, angrily, she told me to get out. She said she'd do what I wanted her to do; just get out.

As I walked out I said "Thank you" to her. Not even in a sarcastic tone. No, I said it because she did the right thing and I appreciated it, even though she had to be a fucking twat about it.

* * * * *
The customer is always right. There are some instances where that's not necessarily true, but this wasn't one of them. Not even close.

Fuck you National City Bank. And fuck you Andrea L. White, you stupid cunt. If you just would have done the right thing in the first place, you may have saved the business of a good customer who's gonna have a fuckload of money someday (that he'll probably have to keep in a bank). But you had to stand behind the criminals who employ you, over three dollars and sixteen cents that you would never have seen anyway. You had to lie to a customer, just to try to rip him off SOME MORE. Fuck you!

I'm not pissed off about this just because it happened to me. I'm pissed off because it happens to just about everyone. And you know why it happens to just about everyone? Because collectively, as Americans, we're too stupid to know when we're being ripped off, and because we're too chickenshit to do anything about it.

I'll probably put my money in a bank again someday, but it won't be National City Bank, and I won't allow any other bank to take a fucking cent from me, for any reason.

Aimless

Impulsive bastard

But here is the map of all the places I've driven alone. Believe it or not, most of these lines represent the routes I've taken to get from Point A (Columbus) to Point B (Las Vegas) or vice versa. Yes, even the Pacific and Atlantic oceans lie between Ohio and Nevada if you are creative enough.


Aimless

Impulsive bastards

I've been wanting to do this for a long time, but I finally took the time today to "draw" up a map with lines representing all the places Jeff and I have been together. I don't think any of our trips were planned. We just took off and ended up somewhere.


Jeff and I are both extremely impulsive and we both love to travel, so when you put the two of us together in one place, we're fucking gone in no time. Like that one time when I was 18 and Jeff was 20. It started out with me driving over to Jeff's house just to hang out or maybe go to a movie or something. Then I think it went something like this...

(Columbus, Ohio)
Jeff: You wanna go to Indianapolis or something?
Ryan: OK, why not.

(Indianapolis, Indiana)
Jeff: You wanna go to Bloomington or something?
Ryan: OK, why not.

(Bloomington, Indiana)
Jeff: You wanna like go that way (west)?
Ryan: OK, why not.

Somewhere between Bloomington and St. Louis, we knew it was on. We were past the point of no return. We ended up going to Six Flags Mid America in St. Louis and Six Flags Great America in Chicago. We didn't have any changes of clothes or anything, so I remember buying a "St. Louis" t-shirt somewhere near Six Flags.

Oh yeah, and we didn't tell anyone what we were doing or where we were. So when we returned, about five days later, I found out that I was reported missing.

When looking at the travel lines on the map, keep in mind that Jeff and I have lived thousands of miles from each other for most of the last 12 or 13 years. (When did you move to Vegas, Jeff?)

I moved to Vegas in January 1997, at which point Jeff and I were roommates for a year. It wasn't too long after that when Jeff moved to Ogden, Utah, then Yucaipa, California. Then I moved back to Ohio in November 2000. So the year and a half when we both lived in Vegas is the only time we've lived closer than a few hundred miles from each other since about 1995. (And we weren't on speaking terms for a while after our apartment lease ended.)

Ah yeah, you gotta hear the other stories.

Aimless

It's damn near time to vamoose

In my most recent post I alluded to an anonymous professional golfer who seems to be a regular reader of this blog. He e-mailed me shortly before I wrote the entry, so he's no longer anonymous to me. But because he chooses to comment anonymously, I'm not going to reveal his identity. (I will let you know it's not Tiger Woods or Jack Nicklaus.)

"Mr. Golfer" is not one of the guys you see on TV every week (if you watch golf). He is climbing the ladder to become one of those guys, participating mainly in US Pro Golf Tour events. To put it in his own words: "I am a professional golfer out of [Some City, Some State], trying to make it to the bigs."

Allow me to digress...

I can't remember if I have revealed any of my Aimless plans around here yet, but I've been planning to hit the road again in about mid-April. That will leave another six weeks of potentially cold or cool weather here in northern latitudes before summer temperatures kick in full-time. I won't be taking any heavy clothing (like, say, a jacket) with me, though, because it will just end up as unnecessary weight, which I'll need to carry constantly. So when I begin my next adventure, I'll be going where the sun keeps shining through the pouring rain; going where the weather suits my clothes.

So where might the weather suit my clothes in mid/late-April?

South.

South like New Orleans and Cajun Country. Yeah, remember when I was still in California and I said I hoped to spend a day in New Orleans on the way home? And do you remember seeing anything resembling New Orleans in either of the trailer videos? Well, you didn't see it because I wasn't there. And I have been dying to head that way for almost three months now.

End Digression...

While viewing Mr. Golfer's web site, I noticed he is scheduled to play in a USPGT event in Baatawn Roozhe from April 26 to April 29. For those who aren't very familiar with the layout of cities, regions, and states here in the USA, it just so happens that Baatawn Roozhe is right between New Orleans and Cajun Country. Do you see where I'm going with this?

Yeah, I've always been a big fan of the underdog and the little guy (except when they play the Buckeyes, of course), and I'd say Mr. Golfer is presently in that position (just as I am presently in that position). But Mr. Golfer might not be the underdog in five years; he might be Tiger's #1 rival by then. And wouldn't it be cool if I ended up being there to chronicle some of his ascent to the top? Cool for me and cool for him.

In fact, I think that's why Mr. Golfer "diggs" Aimless. I think he's rooting for the underdog, too. And I know I am a big-time underdog, even compared to him. I mean, at least he's making money being the underdog.

But I think Mr. Golfer may have been on the outside looking in, even recently. And just like me, he persisted. At times he probably wanted to give up, but he didn't, even though his dream sometimes seemed impossible. Not because he didn't believe in his abilities but because he hadn't met the right person (or backer). Then it happened.

I don't know. I'm just speculating. May have more to say about it later.

Mr. Golfer, I'll keep you anonymous if you want it that way, but I'd also be happy to link to your site(s).

Update: 3/10/2007: - Since "Mr. Golfer" has removed his disguise in the comment below, I guess that means he doesn't feel the need to remain anonymous. His main web site is lukeswilor.com, and he also has a blog at blog.lukeswilor.com.

Go Luke!

Aimless

Digg it!

Some anonymous professional golfer who lurks here recently told me about digg.com, so I just registered on Digg and entered some information about the Aimless trailer(s). I really don't know much about Digg yet, but it seems to be some kind of sovereign democracy. I guess if enough people digg your story, then even more people find out about it.

So I hope some of you folks might choose, with your own free will, to visit Digg and tell 'em ya digg the Aimless trailer.

Oh yeah, and I think I just decided I like the sound of Aimless: The Adventures of an American Vagabond much better than Aimless: An American Documentary. Seriously, the latter sounds really stupid. (I knew that as long ago as last summer, when I came up with it, but I just wasn't trying very hard then.) Well y'know, I'm always trying to improve things a tiny bit at a time. I think that's a pretty big improvement, though.

Aimless

Response to trailer comments

First of all, thank you everyone! Thank you for hanging around, thank you for waiting for the movies to load, thank you for your feedback, and thank you for giving my ego a boost.

Regarding the Pink Floyd tune: I don't think you can hear it (or notice it) without headphones, but Pink Floyd's "Any Colour You Like" was playing in the background of the restaurant where the "interview" took place. When I began editing everything, I was going to cut that clip right after I say, "...and I don't think he believed me," then include a split second of black space before continuing with the "AIMLESS" signs (with the music as it is). But after I watched it some more, I realized that the timing of my words was almost perfectly aligned with the change in the music in the restaurant. So I decided to let the clip of me continue all the way to, "...stop somewhere where they can get gas, while I get..." [AIMLESS] [AIMLESS] [AIMLESS]. I doubt that I could have planned it half that good. I think the Pink Floyd song is just about perfect for that sequence, too, for so many reasons.

Come on, Jay... You don't know the second song?!? Hell no, it's not Jeff Buckley. It's Harry Nilsson, the song from Midnight Cowboy. I love that song. Whenever I hear it, I can't help but picture Jon Voight riding a bus from Oklahoma (or wherever) to New York, so I had to use it.

Interestingly, though, that short clip of Memphis probably shows the spot where Jeff Buckley died. And when we were driving over that bridge, I pointed over there and told the trucker that's where my favorite musician died. Then I told him the story of how he died.

Who's holding the camera? In the restaurant sequence, Jeff's good friend Don MacKay operated the camera while Jeff and I talked. In the shots that show me waiting by the on-ramp, I "staged" the scene by placing the camera in various spots on the ground, or sometimes on the concrete barrier. Unless there is something I can't remember, the rest of the shots of myself are simply an arm's length away, like the final clip, where I say, "It looks like I'm not gonna be where I'm trying to be... when I want to be there."

Anonymous: What's Digg?

I wish I could post the trailer without all the compression and stuff. It makes a big difference. Whenever I figure out how to burn it to DVD, I'll try to get copies to anyone who would like a copy. If I have to mail any, I may ask for a small donation just to cover shipping. We'll see.

Also, the movies display darker on PCs than on Macs, which affects several of the clips pretty severely. I should be able to fix that pretty easily, but I kinda don't feel like it right now.

Lots more to say, but I think I'll stop for now. Again, thank you everyone.

Aimless

Trailer Part I is up!

I'm sure I still have a lot of work to do, to compress the size of the file and stuff like that, but Part I of the trailer is here, as is Part II.

Part I and Part II are supposed to be one file, and I'd like to make it that way, but I'm not sure that will be possible, due to the fact that it would be such a large file. We'll have to see how much I can learn about compression and codecs and shit like that. If I make the files any smaller, they either look like shit or sound like shit, and I've made enough compromises on quality already just to get them where they are right now.

I really want your feedback so I can find out what I'm doing right and wrong. Positive feedback, negative feedback, or any other kind of feedback.

Now check out my dang-dern videos. I have put my heart and soul into all of it.

(The videos may be kind of dark on PCs. I'll try to fix that ASAP.)

Aimless

Seriously, it will be here soon

If I can only figure out how to turn this FCE project into a reasonably-sized QuickTime movie (instead of a 41.7 MB QuickTime movie), the trailer will be here ASAP.

Aimless

Trailer is almost finished

I'm pretty much done with the trailer; just have some fine-tuning to do before I make it public. Right now I feel really good about it, with the exception of maybe a few small things. I may not be able to polish everything as well as I'd like, but I still feel good about what I've created. Currently the trailer is six minutes and twenty-eight seconds long, but it will end up a little closer to 7:00 after I add some text to the end.

One thing I really like is that the final clip is very deceptive, however unintentional. It is probably the best footage I have of me talking to the camera. Unlike much of the other footage of me talking to the camera, this footage feels like I didn't even know the camera was on (even though I was holding the camera an arm's length in front of myself). It's as if I was just thinking, but my thoughts made it onto a videotape. The best thing about it is that I can feel a lot of empathy for the guy who happens to be me. And if I can feel that kind of empathy, I can only imagine what someone else might feel, especially someone who doesn't already know the outcome.

The trailer is almost entirely in chronological order. I guess it's actually something in between a trailer and a mini documentary. I don't want to talk about it anymore right now because I'm going to end up spoiling it for someone.

Aimless

Referral spam: Please help!

If anyone knows how to combat referral spam (or referrer spam), please help me. I spend about an hour every day sorting through my referrer logs and adding new misspellings and whatnot to my .htaccess file, but it obviously does not work. It does drive away all the "referrers" with URLs containing the words and letter combinations I've added to the .htaccess file, but they come up with 50 to 100 new ones almost every day. After only a month, my .htaccess file is getting HUGE.

I really don't understand why they put so much effort into targeting this blog. I mean, I don't have a "recent referrers" list and I don't follow the links to their bogus web sites.

Someone please help!!! Thank you.

Aimless

Tony Gemignani

Today at the pizza show Tony Gemignani walked up to me and initiated a short conversation. If you don't know who Tony Gemignani is, he is the guy you've probably seen on TV doing amazing tricks with pizza dough, from the Emeril show to Jay Leno to buttloads of other shows I don't even know about.

I wouldn't say I know Tony, but I did already know that he knows who I am, because he approached me at last year's pizza show after recognizing me from Pizza! The Movie (which I hadn't even seen yet). That was pretty cool because Tony is the "star" of the pizza movie. Hell, Tony is the superstar of the pizza industry. Not just the American pizza industry; the global pizza industry.

So, as I already mentioned, Tony walked up to me today and said hey. After maybe 30 seconds of talking to him, he said something to me about my trip. I suspected he was referring to Aimless, so I said, "You've seen my web site?" After confirming that he has seen it, he seemed pretty interested in what I'm doing, adding that he thinks some parts of my blog are pretty funny. He asked if I've ventured anywhere near his parts yet, to which I responded: "No. I've been to LA already, but not your area (Castro Valley, California--near San Francisco). I have thought about going up to your place, but I haven't really had the opportunity to do much yet."

I only talked to Tony for about five minutes, but I got the impression he thinks Aimless is pretty cool. He acted very interested in having me visit his pizzeria whenever I make it back out west. That is, he seemed interested in being in Aimless. (He loves attention.) And I probably will visit his pizzeria because it could be good for both Tony and myself. It could be good for me because Tony is the best in the world at doing something that fascinates a lot of people, and it could be good for Tony because it'll provide more exposure for him, his pizzeria (Pyzano's), and his competitive pizza team (World Pizza Champions).

Tony is a really nice guy. Even though his skills have made him kind of famous, he is still just a dude. You can bet I'll show up in Castro Valley sometime in the next six months.

Oh shit! It just occurred to me that Tony knows George Lucas. At least I think maybe he knows George Lucas. Seems like I've read something about it before. I'm going to Google their names now.

Aimless

Trailer update

I can't even begin to express how excited I am about the trailer I'm putting together. It's already four minutes long and I anticipate that it will be about six minutes once I finish it. It's hard to look at it from the perspective of an outsider because I have such a personal investment in it, but I feel really good about it. Sometimes I watch it about three or four times in a row. Every time it reaches the end I find myself wanting more, so I watch it again. Now, if I can create that same feeling with you folks and all the other people who still have not heard of Aimless, I'd say some good things will happen.

This is really fun. I'm so focused on what I'm doing and I'm constantly learning all kinds of new stuff. Unfortunately I will not be able to work on it Friday, Sunday, or Monday, though, because there is a pizza trade show in Columbus.

I really don't even care much about the pizza show this year because I'm just not chasing that dream right now. But Otis is coming to town for the show, so I'm going to hang out with him while he's around (except on Saturday). There are also some industry people I don't see often that'll be here, too, so I can sacrifice a few days of work. Maybe it'll even be good for my head to get away from the computer and the house.

After watching these tapes over and over I've realized just how good a friend I have in Jeff. Not that I didn't already know it or anything; it's just been reinforced a whole bunch through the tapes. Jeff, you're really a great guy and a great friend. Your friendship means a lot to me.

Aimless

Cutting and editing...

...And changing my mind and unchanging my mind and unbreaking my heart and teaching myself yet another set of skills and wondering and eating pizza and all kinds of shit like that.

Yeah, I'm finally making it real. Yesterday morning I didn't know the first thing about cutting or editing digital video (or anything else about post-production), but today I'm coming along. And I like it this way.

Remember the introduction I was talking about? Yeah, well it's coming together, and I've already cut out most of the words from the transcription. I may put it all right back in tomorrow. And then I may take it right back out. But no matter what I do, it's giving me valuable experience. Learning by doing is what made me good at the things I do well. Oh, and being my own toughest critic helps, too.

Well, all I wanted to say is that Quasi-Aimless has moved from the spreadsheet and into the Final Cut. I'll probably be very busy working on this for a while, so don't expect a lot of blogging in the near future.

One last thing... I'm thinking I'd like to ingest peyote alone in the desert sometime in the next year. Not that it's any of your business or anything. If I do, I'll make sure to get some good footage of me tripping.

Aimless

Quasi-Aimless

OK, so I'll have to come up with a name for the trial run video I'm currently working on. How about Quasi-Aimless? I mean, that's pretty much what it is.

Here are a few definitions for 'quasi': 1) Having some resemblance. 2) Having a likeness to something; resembling. 3) Signifying as if, almost. 4) Prefix meaning seemingly.

Any other suggestions?

Aimless

What's your son's name?

If you were reading the "California to Ohio" series of entries I had been writing (and may continue eventually), you probably remember that I was only as far as Quartzsite, Arizona when I left off. I didn't meet Earl Wordlaw (my ride out of Phoenix) for another few days, so I really shouldn't write about him yet. However, there is a moment from my travels with Earl that I thought was perhaps funny enough to share with y'all, even though I still have not introduced him to you.

After a long day of driving on December 20, Earl and I were sitting in the food court of a truck stop in Las Cruces, New Mexico, just shooting the shit after we ate. I had the camera rolling, in hopes that Earl might share a good story with me or just say something interesting. Like usual, most of that footage was pretty boring. But when he started talking about his infant son, it got better.

Before I tell the story, some context might be necessary. First thing: Earl is black. I only mention Earl's color because it might help you "hear" the words a little better. Fact is, white guys like me speak a lot different than black guys like Earl, and sometimes I found it a little difficult to understand some of his words. I'm not saying Earl speaks like the dude from Fat Albert (Mushmouth?) or certain pro athletes; I'm just saying he sounds a lot different than Peter Jennings, just as my uncle in eastern Tennessee sounds a lot different than Peter Jennings.

So there we were in Las Cruces and Earl was telling me a story. At some point in the story he told me his son's name. I couldn't understand what he said. So Earl said the name again. I still couldn't tell what he was saying. And that's probably about when we get to this:

Earl: My son's name is _________. [Sounded like "McGeh" or something.]
Me: Mc...(?)
Earl: "McGeh."
Me: How do you spell that?
Earl: [To himself] Uh, how do you spell "McGeh"?
Me: You don't know how to spell your son's name?
Earl: She named him!

I didn't figure out what he was saying until I got home and reached that point in my tapes. That was probably a few weeks ago, if not more recent. After watching the tapes, I'm pretty sure he was saying "Miguel."

Anyway, Earl is a real good dude. It was fun riding with him. I hope someday I'll be able to do something really great for Earl.

Aimless

Setting up a structure

A few days ago I began watching my tapes all over again. This time through is a lot different than the first time, though, for a lot of reasons. First of all, I made some pretty detailed logs when I reviewed the tapes before. That was very mentally draining and time-consuming because I'd have to rewind the tape every time I passed something that appeared remotely interesting, to take note of the running time and what was happening in the footage. Then I'd have to do the same thing at the end of each moment of interesting footage. It was really not fun; it's so much more fun to just be out there making the tapes.

This time I don't have to give everything my full attention. I can just watch the tapes casually (or sometimes just listen) and wait for the compelling moments to jump out at me. Then I take very detailed notes of what's going on during these moments. I can watch it from more of a distance, so the storyline is becoming more clear.

No, I'm not just trying to make a trailer anymore. I'm approaching everything with the intention of making a complete documentary, which might just happen. I mean, it'll take almost as much work just to make a five-minute trailer as it might take to make a 60-minute documentary, at least in terms of logging everything and figuring out which footage belongs in the final product. And there's just too much good stuff to set my sights so low as to only make a trailer.

The structure seems to be taking shape pretty clearly. I've already written an entry about the prospective opening segment, but now I have several other segments outlined pretty well. After the introduction, there's a segment (or scene) I've labeled "Richfield & Dennis Cox," which covers my first attempt at hitchhiking, as well as my ride with the first person who ever picked me up while hitchhiking.

Segment 2: "Cedar City to Vegas." Something interesting happened at a gas station in Cedar City. The next day I caught a ride to Vegas. (This will be mostly a short video collage.) My ride dropped me off on I-15, under the Tropicana overpass, then I started making my way toward UNLV, where I expected to find people I know.

Segment 3: "The Dude by the MGM." There was an older guy drinking a beer by the bus stop on Tropicana, east of the Strip. I talked to him for a while. He had a few interesting things to say. He didn't want to give his name.

Segment 4: "Hamilton's Drunk Ass." I met Hamilton at a bar on Maryland Parkway my first night in Vegas. He was rather wasted. Some of it is pretty funny. Hamilton let me crash at his place that night (or morning).

Segment 5: "Joe Sacco." I think this is the best footage I have. I'm not going to talk about what's on it right now.

Segment 6: "Transition to Leaving Vegas." Nothing real great here. I'm going to try to find a way to use this as a bridge.

Segment 7: "Boulder City and California." Most of the good footage from Boulder City will be used as audio in the opening. This scene is kind of a continuation of the bridge from Segment 6 because my two weeks in California wasn't really Aimless; it was a vacation with my good friend Jeff, who treats me 50 times better than he should treat me. Plus not much interesting stuff happened while I stayed with Jeff.

Segment 8: "Leaving California." This begins with Jeff dropping me off in Cabazon, where I met a couple interesting people by the highway. John Martin was holding up print advertisements next to the westbound off-ramp, as a favor for "Sinners Forgiven," and Walter Dexter was selling mistletoe to exiting eastbound travelers. After getting a ride to Palm Springs and subsequently trying to find another ride to Arizona, I had something interesting to say to the camera.

Segment 9: "Quartzsite." This is as far as I've gotten in my second round of watching the tapes, so I can only speculate what will be in this scene and the following scenes. I dislocated my ankle in Quartzsite on December 16. It still hurts.

Segment 10: "Phoenix." Haven't watched this yet. It may merge with the previous scene.

Segment 11: "Phoenix to Memphis." A lot of miles here, but there probably won't be a lot of good footage because I was with the same person the whole time, mostly driving.

Segment 12: "Christmas Eve." This was an emotional day. You won't believe the shit that happened to me on December 24, 2006. I'm not really sure if I have good footage of what happened on that day, but I do know how to write about it.

Segment 13: "Christmas." I'm not going to reveal anything about Christmas Day until I've finished the video.

That's pretty much the structure. Keep in mind, a lot of things are going to change as I progress. It may end up being nothing like what I've outlined here; I really don't know.

As soon as I finish my second round of logging, I'm going to start working on the trailer so I can get something up on this web site. After that I'm going to work on making something a little longer that will not be called Aimless. When I finish that, I'm going to give copies to libraries and people who want copies. When I give copies to people, I'm going to ask them to make a copy or two themselves to give to someone else.

This practice video will be much better than most of the crap we have to choose from on TV.

Aimless

Ciabatta

I've baked a few loaves of ciabatta in the last few days and I must admit I'm getting pretty gosh-darn good at it. Gonna put another one in the oven in about 20 minutes. I started the pre-ferment (sponge or biga or poolish or whatever you want to call it) for this loaf at about 10:00 this morning, then left it alone for about 10 hours before adding the rest of the ingredients and mixing the dough. That was a couple hours ago. Since then I've knocked down the dough a couple times. It is currently on its third rise.

If anyone out there wants to give my formula (recipe) a try, here it is:

Pre-ferment
4 oz. All Trumps high gluten flour (by weight)
2 oz. 110-degree water
1/8 tsp ACTIVE DRY YEAST
1 pinch of sugar

Dough
6 oz. All Trumps high gluten flour (by weight)
6.5 oz. 110-degree water
1/2 tsp ACTIVE DRY YEAST
1 pinch of sugar
1 tsp salt

I'm not going to type the procedures for making the bread right now. I may do it some other time or if anyone asks me to. But my pizza-making procedures (and you can't buy a better pizza) are already available on the Aimless Pizza Page.

Aimless

I don't like being ripped off

I'm going to send two similar letters tomorrow to a couple people who ripped me off after I agreed to do some favors for them that no one else was willing to do.

The first incident happened last June, after a 22-year acquaintance named "Stromie" (Ron Stromfeld) told me his friend John Hetrick was looking for some temporary help at his beer/wine drive-thru. Having already scheduled a vacation with his family for late June, John was looking for someone who could keep the place open while he was away for a week. Because I've always thought highly of Stromie, I stopped by the drive-thru and talked to John the next day. After talking with him for a little bit, I agreed to help him out because I had nothing better to do.

Not only did I agree to work for an insulting $7 an hour, but I also was prepared to work 60-70 hours a week with no overtime pay for a couple weeks. That is, until I realized this guy was a racist asshole who chose to make the job ten times more difficult than necessary. And yes, I eventually walked off. Before I walked off, however, I calmly returned the store keys to John and informed him that I would still be willing to help him out, but only if he'd start listening to my concerns.

His ego didn't allow him to contact me after that.

Because there was not enough time before his vacation to train anyone else, John ended up having to close the drive-thru for a full week while he was gone (unless he decided to cancel the vacation). Additionally, he decided he's above the law and chose not to pay me for the hours I'd already worked.

Bad move, John.

The second incident happened in November 2006. I've already talked about it in a couple recent posts, so I'm not going to retell that story here.

Here's a draft of the first letter:

* * * * *
Dear Mr. Hetrick (and Patrick Johnson, of course),

This letter is a reminder that you owe me $350 in wages for my labor at Arcade Drive-Thru in June 2006. Since it has become evident that you do not intend to pay me for my work, I have no option other than to enforce a concrete deadline for payment. You now have until February 28, 2007 to pay me the $350 you owe me.

If you fail to meet my deadline for payment, you will force me to contact the Internal Revenue Service and inform them of your extensive tax code violations. (Yes, I know enough about your business practices to get you into a lot of trouble.) I do not wish to resort to such extreme actions, but your noncompliance will leave me no other choice.

Sincerely,
Ryan M. Powell

* * * * *
I'm 99% sure neither of these guys will pay me what they owe me, even after receiving this letter. It's an ego thing. But you gotta do what you gotta do, and I WILL report them to the IRS on March 1st if I don't receive the money they owe me by February 28th, even though I have nothing to gain by turning them in.

Something interesting occurred to me after I'd already written the letter: these guys have both spent time in prison. Interpret that however you want; I haven't made any kind of interpretation yet. I'm just pointing out a coincidence.

Aimless

Again, what's the point?

I was just watching some of my video footage from November 18, taken several hours before I split from Patrick & Company. At 8:56 that morning, as we were screaming down a steep mountain incline, Patrick's phone rang. It was the lady we were going to meet in Los Angeles. She was calling to check on our progress, in an attempt to coordinate her schedule with ours.

Patrick updated her: "We are entering Utah."

One big problem, though: We were nowhere near Utah. We were still east of Vail, at mile 180 in Colorado. That means we were still 180 miles from Utah. It means we were at least 3-1/2 hours from Utah.

What did he think he'd gain by telling such a lie? Can anyone help me figure this out?

In addition to that lie, he started bullshitting her in other ways, making all kinds of excuses for the constant and continuous delays. Furthermore, he projected that we would arrive sometime that evening--early enough to meet up with her before she left town--even though he knew there was absolutely no chance we would arrive before about 3:00 AM.

I can understand why someone might stretch the truth a little in certain situations, especially if there is a chance that the little lie could become inconsequential. But it simply is not possible to drive a large Penske truck (that won't go over 70 MPH) from Vail, Colorado to Los Angeles, California in 11 or 12 hours. You can't even make it to Vegas in that timespan. So why dig yourself an even deeper hole by lying about your progress and promising the impossible?

Do you think that lady's ever going to deal with you again, Patrick? Well, she's not. The funny thing is you'll never learn anything from it.

Aimless

The opening

I have now reviewed and logged all of the tapes from my trip, and some things are starting to take shape. The clearest thing right now is the opening. As I speculated a couple weeks ago, I think I might begin with excerpts from the conversation I had with Jeff when we met up in Boulder City. I've pretty much transcribed the whole thing and strung together a reasonably concise recap of what happened between Ohio and Utah. To accompany my Boulder City "narration," I have plenty of on-the-road video footage from a lot of places between Ohio and Utah.

I don't think my storytelling is exactly what I would have hoped for. There's some excessive use of "dude" and "I was like," but I think it will functionally introduce viewers to what everything is all about. One thing that may make things difficult, once I begin editing the stuff, is the music in the bar where we talked. It's not overpowering or anything, but it is very present, and it may cause my story to seem very fragmented. Hope not.

Anyway, here's a transcription of the story I told Jeff. It was a little tough to organize the stuff into paragraphs because it wasn't spoken in paragraphs and because I don't exactly speak how I write. I think it sounds better when I hear it than when I read it. (There will probably be a short pause between most of the paragraphs.)

* * * * *
[Video begins with Jeff in the bar. Don operates the camera, making for one of the very few moments where I am in the picture without pointing the camera at myself.]

Jeff: "...So back up. When you called me a couple weeks ago and I was in Maine… Um, what started this journey here, out west? Details, because I didn't get all the details."

Me: "I was helping out some dude I kinda know, I met in Yellow Springs in June. Not a friend or anything like that. Just a dude I knew.

"I was basically doing this guy a favor. He called me up, and um, he said he has this trip, that he's going to California. He buys old theater chairs and church pews and refurbishes them and then resells them. I think that's what he does, but y'know, he doesn't do shipping; he does it himself.

"So he calls me up, says he needs somebody, asks me if I can do it basically now: 'Can you do it now? Can you go to California with me NOW?' And I'm like, 'Let me get in the shower; let me put my clothes in the laundry. And while I'm doing that, I'll think about it.'

"I had to drive to Cedarville, which is about a 40-minute drive. He said he wants to leave tonight. Well, we didn't leave tonight, so I ended up having to drive back home that night. Should have been an omen, I guess. Then I drove back down the next day and met the two other guys.

"So we headed out I-70... Dude didn't tell me shit about what we were going to do, so I have no idea what we're doing. Basically we're going to... eventually San Jose--first LA, then San Jose--and then back to LA, down to Texas, and back to Ohio, with some stops in between.

"We get to Colorado--we get to the other side of Colorado--I take over driving in western Colorado. And I'm driving, we're barely into Utah, maybe an hour into Utah, which means we're in the middle of fucking nowhere, and we stopped at the rest area. One of the guys who was in the back of the truck came up front. He's someone that I guess has driven a truck before.

"Dude was really judgmental of my driving. And it wasn't like I'm a crazy driver or anything. He was watching my foot on the pedal; he wants me to flip it into neutral when we're going downhill to try to get better gas mileage... So he's like watching every little thing I do. And you know, even if that is a legitimate kind of thing, I don't feel safe doing that. I don't drive like that when I drive, and it's just not natural for me.

"So dude's getting all on my ass and shit, acting like he's the man and I'm just stupid, and I just didn't need it anymore. And eventually I started to say, 'You know what, dude: When we get to Richfield, I'm just gonna get out of the truck, get my stuff, and I ain't getting back in the truck.' And I don't think he believed me [laugh].

"We got to Richfield. I drove down the road looking for a truck stop where they could go to get gas while I get my stuff out of the truck. I didn't see anything like that, so I ended up driving to the other end of Richfield and parked in the Wal-Mart parking lot. That's the only thing I'll do at Wal-Mart.

"I'm gathering the stuff I had up front in the cab, trying to make sure I had everything… And then I got out of the cab and I went and I gathered my other stuff that was in the back of the truck… And when I jumped out, Patrick was like, 'Hey man, what's going on?'

"I said, 'I don't need this shit,' and I walked off. And that's the end of that."

* * * * *
So I guess you call that the opening or introduction or something. Somewhere before, during, or after all that stuff, there will be some intro music and road imagery. Then, after all the intro stuff is over, the story will begin with me along the side of Interstate 70 outside Richfield, Utah. Plus I'm sure I'll end up cutting a lot of the dialogue I've included here.

I've said too much. Goodbye.

Aimless

Joe Sacco for Las Vegas City Council

For those of you who have read my recent entry, Looking for Joe Sacco, I have some good news: My attempt to contact Joe has succeeded. And bonus good news: Joe has decided to run for a seat on the Las Vegas City Council. (Coincidentally, he made the announcement on the same day I wrote the other entry about him.)

I urge you to check out Joe's campaign web site, especially if you live in Las Vegas. I have taken a look at the site already, and I was particularly impressed with his campaign's refusal to accept donations from corporations and political action committees. That's what I call integrity, and integrity is something I've never seen in any public office holder, although I'm sure a lot of politicians began their careers with the right intentions. Unlike nearly every other candidate for public office, though, Joe is not after power. He's simply trying to do the right thing, and I suspect he'll keep it up even after he wins and has to face the pressures of "The Game." If we stop playing The Game and stop electing people who play The Game, The Game dies.

So let's help Joe get elected.

Heck, I might have to move back to Las Vegas and try to help Joe win the election. Or maybe I should abandon Aimless and start a new project about Joe.

Aimless

Some thoughts about liars

I've always been fascinated with people who can't keep their lies straight. You know who I'm talking about: the people who tell you a story about some grand event in their life one day and then tell you about it again sometime in the future, except it's completely different the second time.

Like Patrick Johnson, the guy for whom I was doing a favor when I left Ohio in November.

When I met Patrick (who wears an eye patch over one eye socket and likes to call himself 1-Eye Jack), he was quick to tell me the story about how he lost his eye. He said it happened when an elephant went wacko at a circus in Hawaii. According to Patrick, it was the incident we've all seen on shows such as When Animals Attack, where an elephant decided one day he just didn't want to play along with the circus people anymore. The elephant began rampaging around the small arena, forcing spectators to scatter before finding its way outside, where it continued to charge. Yes, Patrick told me he lost his eye to that elephant at that event.

Several months later, however, after I agreed to help Patrick transport some stuff across the country, he told the story again. But this time it wasn't an elephant that caused him to lose his eye. It was a car accident. So now the story is that Patrick lost his eye after falling asleep at the wheel of a moving automobile.

That's the story the other two guys already knew.

I just can't understand why people lie like that. And it's not the lie itself that puzzles me. The thing that really puzzles me is that they can't keep their lies straight. If you possess the ability to tell anyone such a ridiculous lie, what's the point in ever changing your story? Why tell one person the truth while telling another person the lie? What are you hoping to accomplish by telling the lie, anyway? And is it really that difficult to remember who you've already lied to?

I think the best question, though, is: Do you really think people are that stupid? I don't mean stupid enough to believe your story; I mean stupid enough not to realize that at least one of the stories is a lie, once you've told the same person two drastically conflicting stories about the same event.

That's not the only thing Patrick lied about to me. He lied about pretty much everything. To lure me into helping his pathetic, desperate ass, he lied about what my role would be, and he consciously neglected to mention a lot of conditions that he knew might cause me to turn him down.

And what did he get out of it?

Here's what he got out of it: Three days into the trip, he lost the person who saved his ass and made it possible for him to even begin the trip. He completely lost the respect of someone who could have become a very valuable ally. And if he doesn't pay me for my work really soon, he's going to learn that the IRS doesn't take kindly to being ripped off, which will cost him a lot more than the $350 he owes me. But if that's the way he wants it, well, he gets it.

Update: 02/09/2007 - I just registered on e-bay, solely for the purpose of leaving some feedback about "1eye-jack" (Patrick Johnson). I was going to say something simple and to-the-point: "I did some work for this guy in November 2006. He still has not paid me." But apparently you can't leave feedback about anyone unless you've actually bought something from them or sold something to them. That's stupid; buyers and sellers are not the only people involved in these exchanges.

Aimless

A desperate plea for help

Sometimes I seriously consider giving up on Aimless. Not because I don't believe in Aimless but because it feels like no one else gives a fuck. There are only so many thousands of hours of heart and soul you can devote to building something out of nothing, never earning a dime, before you finally just hit a wall and quit.

There are so many things within the body of this web site that I take a lot of pride in. Just coming up with the idea for Aimless is one thing. But what I'm most proud of is the fact that I have single-handedly created all the content on this site despite having absolutely no experience or training in ANYTHING I've done here. From writing to graphic design to web design to pizza-making to photography. And I'm not trying to pat myself on the back or anything like that, but I think I've done a god-damn good job with that stuff; better than a large percentage of the people who get paid to do these things.

So yeah, it gets frustrating. It's frustrating that no one e-mails me to say, "Nice web site." It's frustrating that almost no one helps me spread the word about Aimless. It's frustrating that no one contacts me to say, "Hey man, I recognize your talents and I'd like to put them to work." It's especially frustrating to know my parents still think I am a complete moron. Not that I really care what they think of me, but they could have combined their resources with my talents a long time ago to make a shitload of money for themselves.

My tank is on empty, folks. I need some fuel to keep this thing going. I need you to drop me a supportive e-mail. I need you to tell a friend about Aimless (and instruct your friend to tell another friend about Aimless, and so on). I need someone to tell me they recognize my talents and would like to hire me, even if I have no interest in the job. I just need people to show that they care about Aimless.

That is, unless you just don't give a fuck.

I'm taking an indefinite vacation now. If you want to see Aimless beyond your computer screen, it's time to do something about it.

Aimless

Looking for Joe Sacco

A couple months ago, in Las Vegas, I met a guy named Joe Sacco. I may have mentioned Joe in this blog once before, but I can't remember for sure. Anyway, Joe is an activist--a very passionate advocate for Las Vegas's homeless population. In the short time I was able to converse with Joe, he really impressed me as a great person. He is the kind of person who makes a lot of personal sacrifices to do what he knows in his heart is the right thing to do, especially when the law tries to say it's the wrong thing to do.

I tried to e-mail Joe earlier this evening, but my message bounced back. In my subsequent search to find a valid e-mail address for Joe, I've happened upon some interesting web pages that help demonstrate why I intend to meet up with him again next time I make it to Vegas. Joe Sacco is very representative of the kind of people I'd hoped I'd meet when the idea of Aimless first took root in my head. I don't necessarily mean homeless advocates or good-hearted people. I mean there is just something about Joe that makes him interesting. And he's great in front of the camera. The camera did not affect him at all.

I want to tell you all about what happened while I followed Joe with the camera, but I also want to keep it a secret for now so you'll appreciate it more whenever I finally finish the trailer I'm working on. So until then, let me direct you to some of the web pages I found while searching for him.

• FEEDING THE HOMELESS: Fed up with protests.
• World Bank Disrupted, SUV Strikes Protestor.
• It's no walk in the park. (This article is from just a few days after I met Joe.)
• Fewer students answer the call.
• Group of anti-war protesters arrested on Las Vegas Strip.

There are a lot more articles where these came from. Here's a good place to start finding them, if you're interested.

I haven't found a valid e-mail address for Joe yet, but I do have his phone number. I'm not much of a phone person, but I guess I can call him if I don't have any luck finding another e-mail address. (I already sent a text message. No response yet.)

Update: February 6, 2007 - Joe is running for Las Vegas City Council. Visit Joe Sacco's campaign web site.

Aimless

Anonymous comments allowed

I've changed my mind about disallowing anonymous comments. Even though I wish people would use registered aliases or nicknames when commenting, I realized that disallowing anonymous comments kinda makes me an asshole. It was one snotty step toward exclusivity on a web site that's all about inclusivity.

Anonymous comments are once again allowed. I apologize for being a prick.

Aimless

I used to love drum corps

I used to love the drum and bugle corps activity, both as a participant and as a spectator. I don't love it anymore, though. In fact, I have absolutely no interest in drum corps anymore because there is no such thing as drum corps anymore. There hasn't been for six or seven years. Drum corps died the day DCI allowed electronics on the field.

With drum corps dead and buried, "drum corps" became unbearable to my ears. Not only did the new rules ruin the foundation of what once was drum and bugle corps, but it also sounds fucking horrible. The "artistic" yapping sucks, Carolina Crown. The hideous singing is like fingernails on a chalkboard, Cadets. Urrrghhh!!! I know there are a lot more examples I could cite here, except I no longer follow drum corps. I only watch parts of the televised broadcasts out of curiosity, on the rare occasion that I know about the broadcasts. And I haven't been to a show since 1999, even though I used to attend up to 10 or 15 shows every summer.

I received an e-mail earlier tonight from someone I marched with in the Limited Edition Drum & Bugle Corps. The body of the e-mail was simply a link to a petition for drum corps fans and participants to sign, to tell DCI they don't appreciate the changes the governing body keeps making to the already-ruined foundation of drum corps.

Well, even though I agree with most of the principles of the petition, I'm not going to sign it. Y'see, I just don't care anymore.

We told you years ago, DCI, that we didn't want the changes you proposed. We said the changes would turn drum corps into marching band, but you made the changes anyway. And then you did it again and again. You proved to me that you didn't care what your target audience wanted. Or maybe you just had a different target audience in mind--a target audience that may not have actually existed.

Drum Corps International, you are lucky you still have an audience that lets you know they don't want what you're trying to force upon them. They are doing you a favor by speaking their minds, but apparently you just keep ignoring them. And guess what, DCI: They don't need you. You need them.

You needed me, too, but you lost me, just as you lost thousands of other real drum corps fans. We don't care anymore because you made us stop caring. Don't you get it?!? And if you keep ignoring the people who do still care, there won't be anyone left to help you rebuild once the activity finally falls apart completely.

One last thing... I mean no disrespect to the yappers and singers. It's not necessarily your voices that disturb me; it's the concept. It's the clearly inherent incompatibility of drum corps and amplification.

(If anyone who still cares about drum corps wants to redistribute this rhetoric, please include a link either to this post or to http://www.aimlessmovie.com.)

Aimless

I always knew I was born 20 years too late

Yesterday while reviewing my Aimless tapes, I reached the part where Rudy Montez gave me a ride from Palm Springs to Quartzsite. As he drove, he told me a story about his son joining the military and how it changed him. Because it was late in the evening and we were in the middle of the desert, with no city lights and sparse traffic, there essentially is no viewable video footage of his story; just audio. I guess with my attention taken off the visual aspect of the footage, I paid more attention than usual to the whole spectrum of audio, not just Rudy's speech. Specifically, I noticed the music playing in the background on Rudy's satellite radio.

With the radio set to the 70s channel quietly behind our conversation, it played Let's Get It On and Atomic Dog before easing into a song I think I'd only ever heard on TV commercials for "Hits of the 70s" compilation albums. It was the song whose refrain goes something like Shannon is gone, I heard she's drifting out to sea, in a male falsetto voice. (At least that's what I thought the lyrics were. They're actually Shannon is gone, I hope she's drifting out to sea.)

Familiar with the refrain but not knowing the rest of the song very well, I immediately felt compelled to Google "Shannon is gone I heard she's drifting out to sea," to try to find out what the apparently sad song is actually about. Within a minute or two, I arrived at Henry Gross's web site. (Henry Gross wrote and recorded the song.) On his web site, Henry explains the events that inspired the song Shannon and how it all came together. It's a nice little story. (By the way, I believe the song made it all the way to #6 in 1976.)

Having enjoyed the story behind Shannon, I followed the "Contact" link at the bottom of Henry's Bio page, to send a short e-mail to Henry or his people, saying just a little more than "I thought your story was nice." As I suspected, Henry's e-mail address was not listed, and the contact e-mail address was apparently his manager's. Nonetheless, I sent the short e-mail to Henry's manager, with a greeting reading, "Hi Henry & Company," figuring there was a reasonable chance he would receive the message because it was short and "non-worshipy."

Less than four hours later, I received a response directly from Henry, saying thanks and also letting me know he was about to look at the Aimless web site (to which I'd linked in my e-mail). I thought it was really cool of him to respond and show interest in my project, so I looked more deeply into his web site, just to learn a little bit more about him.

To my surprise, I learned that Henry was a founding member of Sha Na Na (whom I loved when I was little) and played Woodstock as a member of Sha Na Na.

For those of you who have read my previous entry, 1969: Isn't that kind of freaky? I mean, on Wednesday I found out a guy I already knew had played at Woodstock with a very well known band, then on Saturday I received an e-mail from someone else who played at Woodstock with another famous band. As far as I know, before Wednesday, I'd never known or met anyone who played at Woodstock. Now two in the span of four days. Very strange.

Anyway, I've actually exchanged a few e-mails with Henry over the last 24 hours. He seems like a really cool, down-to-earth kind of guy. If I ever have any money, I might have to buy some of his music.

Aimless

Rock & roll marketing

About an hour ago, I came up with an idea that can kill two birds with one stone. It all started as I thought about how ridiculous it is that filmmakers usually have to pay big bucks for the right to include copyrighted music in their films. (And no, I'm not just looking at it from a filmmaker's perspective, as you will see.)

Most professional music groups (or the people who own their music) believe their songs are more valuable than the exposure their song would receive if it was included in a movie. They're wrong. How do I know? Because I could find thousands of unsigned bands who would gladly allow me to use their songs in a movie without paying them a cent. Unsigned bands know the value of that kind of exposure. Even if only a thousand people ever see the movie, the unsigned band knows that's a thousand people their music would not have reached without the movie. They know they can only sell albums if people hear their music and like it. It's a smart marketing decision.

How else do I know the big boys are wrong?

Because when they demand $5,000 or $10,000 or $20,000 (or more) for me to use their song in a movie, I walk. And when I walk, they gain nothing. They get no money from me, and they get no new source of valuable exposure for their music. Sorry guys, but you are not that important and your song is not worth as much as you want to believe.

How else do I know they're wrong?

Because bands make videos for their songs. Each video is essentially a short film with a one-song soundtrack, paid for by the band, not the filmmaker. Music videos are marketing tools that cost a lot of money to create. But the cost of making videos is puny compared to the revenue generated by videos. If it wasn't true, they simply wouldn't keep making music videos. Yet they apparently don't understand that other people's movies can do the same thing for their songs.

Eventually I'm going to create a movie. And when I do create that movie, I'll want to use certain songs in certain scenes. I almost certainly will want to use some of Jeff Buckley's stuff, for a few reasons: 1) Because I love his music; 2) Because I suspect his music will fit well; and 3) Because I want to expose his beautiful music to a new audience. But I am 99 percent sure it'll never happen, because someone is going to demand that I pay a very large sum of money before they'll grant me permission to use Jeff Buckley's music in my film. And as much as I want to use his music, I'm not going to pay anyone for the opportunity to sell their product, knowing I'll never see a dime of commission in return. Thirty seconds of a Jeff Buckley song is not going to make or break my film. There are millions more songs where that came from, and I can get some other great music somewhere else for free.

So understanding that I'll probably never secure permission to use any of the music I want for the soundtrack, here's what I think I'll do: I'm going to scour the internet, looking for small-time, local, unsigned bands. I'm going to send them e-mails about Aimless, telling them I'd like to use music from bands and artists who recognize that Aimless could provide a new source of exposure for their music. I'll ask them to check out the web site, and if they like what they see, they can contact me and send me some of their stuff.

But you know what's great about this plan? Every time I send an e-mail to a band, Aimless will reach someone new. So not only will I create a network that may help me find great songs for a soundtrack, but it also could sprout a lot of new branches on the Aimless marketing tree.

Aimless

1969

Today, like most Wednesdays, I went to Dino's Capuccinos in Yellow Springs. Dino's is a really small place, so when I arrived I sat at a table with a 50-something guy I kinda know. I've only ever had one real conversation with him (several months ago), but we say hi to each other every week and we sometimes talk for a few minutes.

So we were talking about drums and drumming when he said something about being in the Woodstock movie. After some clarification, I realized he meant he was a performer at Woodstock. Elaborating, he then told me he was the drummer for Country Joe and the Fish.

So I said, "Are you serious?"

Long story short... He was serious. So I Googled his name (Greg "Duke" Dewey) as soon as I got home, and I found out right away that he is exactly who he claims to be. But there's a lot more to it than that. This dude was a big part of the San Francisco scene of the 1960s. He was right in there with the Grateful Dead, Jefferson Airplane, and all that shit.

Originally from Yellow Springs, he was in a band called Mad River. The band moved from Yellow Springs to San Francisco in 1967, got pretty well known, and recorded two albums for Capitol Records. They were real tight with a writer/poet named Richard Brautigan. That's about as much as I've read so far.

Kinda weird, huh.

Before he left, Greg told me he's been dying to find out why I've been bringing a camcorder with me to Dino's the last several weeks and taking lots of notes on the tapes I watch. Realizing I'd never told him about Aimless, I wrote down the URL for him.

So Greg, if you're reading this, welcome to my world. I'll try to remember to bring that snare drum next time I go to Yellow Springs, but you might want to remind me, say about Tuesday night.

Aimless

No more anonymous comments

That's pretty much all I have to say about that.

Aimless

Do the math

George Bush reminded me again tonight that there has not been a terrorist attack on American soil since September 11th, 2001. I'd like to remind George Bush and the American people that there had never been a terrorist attack on American soil prior to September 11th, 2001.

If my math is right, that means there has been a total of one terrorist attack in the history of the United States of America. Yet the majority of the American people have lived in a constant state of anxiety for over five years now, always fearing the next imminent terrorist attack. Does anyone ever stop to wonder why there has only been one terrorist attack on American soil?

I do.

Maybe it's because our intelligence agencies usually do their jobs right. Maybe it's because "the terrorists" are actually just a bunch of ants whose only chance to elude the Great American Magnifying Glass comes when Uncle Sam is taking a nap. Maybe September 11th taught Uncle Sam a lesson about sleeping on the job.

The attacks of September 11th, 2001 would not have happened if only a handful of people had been remotely competent at doing their jobs. It begins with the president and goes right down to US Customs agents and airport security screeners.

The easy way to fight "the war on terror" is to make sure these people do their jobs right. We don't have to give up our Constitutional rights or invade any countries. We just need to do our jobs right. It's that easy.

So stop trying to take credit for preventing things that never happen, Governor Bush. And learn how to count, you fucking idiot, because 9/11/2001 is not six years behind us.

Aimless

I miss the road

I want to get back out on the road. I don't like being here, isolated from the rest of the world. I don't like being here, always able to procrastinate. I don't like being here, in Ohio.

Just a few months ago I was afraid to go out in public. Remember that? I wrote a blog entry titled, "Gonna try to be social" or something like that. I think it was when my vision suddenly went bad, giving me constant headaches and making me feel like I was about to puke all the time. And yeah, that was caused by the dextroamphetamine (generic Dexedrine). I'm almost sure of it.

I still don't feel too comfortable in public, doing regular, everyday things. For example, I've been going to Dino's in Yellow Springs every Wednesday since I returned home. I spend most of my time at Dino's reviewing tapes, taking notes, not talking to anyone. Even when a very famous local comedian (whom I'd like to meet) comes into the store (as he does on a regular basis), I pretty much tune out and stay in my own little world. It's part focus, part fear; the kind of fear that grips you only because you don't have anything of substance to worry about.

It's unnecessary fear; fear I absolutely would not feel if I was on the road because I would be more concerned with figuring out how I might get something to eat. I would be more concerned with trying to figure out if my ankle is going to be screwed up for the rest of my life. I would be too in awe of the really great people I encounter.

The stability and synchronicity of my life at home keeps me fearful of things that shouldn't even bother me. Someday maybe I'll live in harmony with that kind of stability and synchronicity, but right now it's my enemy and I want out.

Aimless

Speaking voices

Over the years, plenty of people have told me I have a pleasant speaking voice. But as I've watched these tapes, I've heard hours of myself speaking, and I cannot stand hearing my own voice. It really fucking annoys me. Actually, I don't know if it is my voice so much as it is my mannerisms.

It's different when I do voices, though. I don't mind hearing my voice at all if I've been caught on tape creating a voice or mimicking some existing voice.

Someday someone is going to "discover" my vocal creativity and put it to good use.

Aimless

Idea for an opening

Whew! Writing all those pages about my trip kind of wiped me out for a while. I guess I'm going through a bit of blog overload right now.

So I've been watching more of my tapes from the trip, and I think I have figured out a good opening for the trailer (or whatever you want to call the video I plan to post to the web site). It'll start with audio from late November, when I crossed paths with Jeff and Don in Boulder City.

In a restaurant/bar in Boulder City, Jeff asked me to tell the complete story leading up to my arrival in the Pacific time zone, so I did. I should be able to take little bits and pieces of that audio and lay it down on top of the most interesting bits of video footage from Ohio to Utah (because there is nothing interesting about watching some dude talk). While I tell the story, some music might kick in; right now I'm thinking "Ramblin' Man" by the Allman Brothers. Then, after establishing why I'm out west instead of in Ohio, Aimless begins. After this point, I envision stringing together the best moments from my 22 hours of video footage.

This will not be easy. There is just so much good footage from which to pick and choose. Right now I'm still separating the good footage from the bad footage, but soon I'll have to separate the good footage from the good footage that best tells the story. Then I'll probably have to go through it all again a couple times. It's not something you can just sit down and work on for hours at a time, because it drains your brain pretty quickly. You need some recovery time every once in a while. But when you get away from watching the video for a while, it's tough to motivate yourself to start reviewing the tapes again.

I've also spent a lot of time lately trying to touch up the web site a little bit. Visually, that is. Y'know, for having no web design experience or training, I think I've managed to create a pretty nice looking web site. And it'll get better.

Aimless

California to Ohio, Part VI

...Continued from California to Ohio, Part V.
Read the whole story in California to Ohio (Unabridged).

* * * * *
Saturday, December 16, 2006
Having eaten almost nothing the previous day, I woke up at about 8:30 AM to put some continental breakfast in my stomach. To my chagrin, the Super 8's breakfast spread consisted of little more than pre-packaged, thawed-out danish pastry thingies and orange drink. (I think they served coffee and English muffins, as well, but I was not interested in either of those items.)

The pastries were the brand with wrappers that, for some reason, each read: "Lemon, Apple, Blueberry, & Cream Cheese," even though each pastry contains only one of the four flavors. You know what I'm talking about--those wrappers that manage to keep you confused for about five minutes because you've forgotten about the other time you went through this at some other motel in some other state.

It starts like this: You accidentally notice the pastries don't all look alike, even though all the wrappers are identical. One pastry has blue gook in the middle, but another pastry has yellow gook. Wait a minute... That other pastry has creamy white gook in the middle. So you're like, "What the fuck, man?!?"

Then, after a few seconds, your mind finally puts it all together: "Oh, I get it. Either the manufacturer is just too cheap to make appropriate wrappers for each flavor or they're too lazy to spend a few seconds composing a simple sentence that could adequately communicate the message that each pastry contains only one of the fillings listed on the wrapper." Unfortunately, while you've been trying to figure it out, other guests have nearly picked the pastry tray clean. So you look at the tray once again and you're all like: "God dammit, there's nothing but apple left."

* * * * *
After eating three pastries, I headed back to my room to take a shower, intending to check out of the motel well before the 11:00 deadline. However, some unexpected conversations delayed my check-out, keeping me at the motel until 10:45.

Once I finally checked out of the motel, I picked up all my stuff and started walking toward Otis's pizza trailer, which stands about a mile and a half from the Super 8. At this point in my journey, a mile and a half with 45 lbs. of baggage hanging from my shoulders felt like a long-ass walk, especially because approximately two-thirds of that weight was concentrated in a large bag with only one shoulder strap.

Having only one strap, I constantly had to deal with the 30-pound bag digging into my shoulder, slipping off my shoulder, and keeping me considerably out of balance. It forced me to put a lot more work into every movement than should have been necessary, but it also made me tougher and it helped me understand some of the changes I'll need to make before I can head out on the road in the future.

* * * * *
Quartzsite is a very unusual town. It has a miniscule permanent population and very few free-standing buildings, but each winter thousands of vendors and transient characters flock to town for the seasonal swap meets. They come from just about everywhere, and almost all of the vendors live in small, simple RVs and campers on the periphery of the swap meets.

During the swap meet season, Quartzsite feels like a gathering of prospectors--a boomtown. In fact, I had the impression many of the townsfolk actually are prospectors, but most of the temporary residents are prospectors only in a metaphoric sense. They stake their claims, set up their equipment, display their goods, and wait for the river of gold to drive into town from Los Angeles, San Diego, Phoenix, and who knows where else.

They sell onyx, silver, turquoise, and Jesus. Pizza, burgers, burritos, and leather. To the best of my knowledge, visitors come to Quartzsite mostly for rocks, minerals, and gemstones, most of which is the real deal. But much of the merchandise is snake oil, sold by snake oil salesmen. Whether you realize it or not, you take your chances when you buy goods in a town like Quartzsite.

Every now and then the visitors need a break from their snake oil shopping sprees to put some grub in their bellies. Hungry out-of-towners have a few fast food chains to choose from--maybe even some locally-owned, year-round restaurants--but I think real Quartzsite food comes from trailers.

* * * * *
It was about 11:30, maybe 12:00, when I finally arrived at Otis's pizza trailer. Having never seen the trailer before, I was impressed with the setup. It's shiny and clean, with customized awnings and a semi-sheltered dining area right next to it. Not a bad place to get a slice.

Otis received a phone call just as I walked up to the trailer, so I put my bags on the ground, took a seat on one of the plastic dining chairs, and called Rudy to find out what time he thought he might pass through Quartzsite on the way to Phoenix. Having slept on it, I'd decided to go ahead and ride to Phoenix with Rudy, as long as he didn't plan to leave Quartzsite too early. After calling Rudy, I was relieved to find out he was still at home in Lake Havasu City. That meant it would be several hours before he'd be ready to give me another ride.

Otis was still on the phone when I finished my phone call, so I dug out the camcorder and walked up to the front of the pizza trailer and talked to Otis's helper, Reva Callaway, for several minutes. Reva had a very friendly personality and no fear of cameras, so it was easy to strike up a conversation with her and get some non-hammed video footage, even before Otis had a chance to introduce the two of us.

Upon completion of his phone call, Otis welcomed me to the Pizza Wheel, showed me the interior of the trailer, and offered me a slice of pizza. I accepted his offer and snatched me a piece of pepperoni pizza. I must say Otis serves a pretty tasty slice.

With the Quartzsite swap meet season just kicking off, there weren't many shoppers around, even on this warm Saturday afternoon. As a result, there wasn't much of a pizza market, either, so I spent much of the day shooting the shit with Otis, Reva, and some of Otis's neighboring vendors.

I called Rudy again at about 3:00, to get an update on his progress. When he didn't answer, I left a voice-mail message saying I'd call back in about an hour unless I heard from him before then. Not hearing from him in that hour, I called him again at 4:00. Answering the phone this time, he told me he was between Quartzsite and Yuma, on his way to Yuma. He then told me to call back in about three hours.

* * * * *
Closing time in Quartzsite is dictated by the sun. When the sun goes down, they roll up the sidewalks and close the shops. In mid-December, this occurs at about 6:00. But before Otis closed the Pizza Wheel on this particular Saturday, a local woman and her teenage daughter pulled up to buy a couple pizzas.

From a folding stool by the door inside the trailer I conversed with the mom while Otis prepared their pizzas. It was a pleasant conversation for a while, but things began to turn when we started revealing our respective business philosophies. It all began when she told a story about a trip to Wal-Mart. She said while she was checking out, the baggers at the check-out counter kept talking to each other and having a good old time (instead of treating her like a queen, I guess). She disapproved of their behavior and just couldn't believe the nerve of those kids. She said the baggers should take pride in their jobs and feel fortunate that they've been given an opportunity to earn some money.

Without getting into too much detail, I said I couldn't blame the Wal-Mart baggers for giving less than 100 percent effort because, realistically, they're not getting paid enough to give one-tenth of a shit. Essentially my stance is that even if the baggers in question do a completely half-ass job, they're still giving more than they're getting. If it wasn't true, they wouldn't have a job. (Let's just say the 7 dollars Wal-Mart pays them each hour doesn't make the slightest impact on Wal-Mart's income statements.)

You get what you pay for. If the baggers were earning $20 an hour, they wouldn't be fucking around, for lots of reasons. First of all, there's competition for jobs that pay $20 an hour. Second, no one wants to lose a job that pays $20 an hour. Third, Wal-Mart ain't gonna let that kind of shit happen in a position that pays $20 an hour.

Show me a bagger that earns $20 an hour and I'll show you a bagger that doesn't annoy the lady at the Pizza Wheel.

Yeah, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking I'm just some dumb brat who's bitter because he's never had a good job. Well, you're right: I've never had a good job. But you're completely wrong if you think I'm just pissed off because I believe I've been wronged by my employers. No, this is just simple economics, and I think about all of this stuff more from a prospective employer's point of view than from an employee's point of view.

I'm not saying everyone should get paid $20 an hour. I'm saying that if I was the owner of a small business, I would begin by using my people skills to find and hire good workers. I would treat them with respect from Day 1. I would start them out at a reasonable wage and train them properly, making my expectations very clear, as well as the consequences of not meeting my expectations. I'd let them know that they should expect me to lead by example, and they should let me know when I fail to lead by example. When they show me they're worth more than I'm paying them, I'd raise their pay because I don't want to lose the people who help me keep my business profitable.

On the rare occasion that I find out I probably shouldn't have hired someone, I'd let them know what's up. I'd let them know how things need to change. And I'd let them know that if things don't change, they'll need to look for other employment.

Labor is not an expense. Labor is an investment. When you make bad investments, you have to deal with the consequences.

The lady at the pizza trailer, who owned a struggling RV lot, wasn't with me. She said I don't know what I'm talking about because I have never owned a business. (It's amazing how many failing small business owners have told me I don't know anything about running a business simply because I haven't done it.) It was clear to me by now that there was no point in continuing this conversation. I told her I felt like this discussion was on the verge of becoming an argument, and I didn't want to piss off Otis's customers, so I just wasn't going to talk about it anymore.

Soon enough her pizzas were ready. Before she left I said, "Have a good night," to try to show that I didn't feel any hostility toward her. Later on I apologized to Otis for the heated discussion.

After a couple hours of hanging out with Otis and the guys and chowing on a couple slices of pizza, I had to figure out what I was going to do for the night. Even though it was at least an hour after the time Rudy told me to call him back, I still hadn't called him because I was starting to realize he's not very good at sticking to a schedule and because I was beginning to feel like a bit of a pest by calling him so much. And I guess I just didn't want to call him again only to find out he was still in Yuma or something.

* * * * *
At about 8:30 PM, with Otis heading off to his sleeping quarters, I started walking west, toward the truck stops and the I-10 interchange. Noticing the "Vacancy" sign at the Yacht Club, I went to the office to see what kind of deals they had, but the office was closed. So I kept walking west.

Knowing I had nowhere to sleep that night for free, I really wanted to get out of Quartzsite. Having walked pretty far down the road already, I decided to head the rest of the way to Love's truck stop and try to get a ride from there. I was still hoping to hear from Rudy, but by now I didn't expect a call from him.

After crossing the bridge over Interstate 10, I was only a few hundred feet from Love's, where a lot of eastbound vehicles were stopping to refuel. I was relieved to be off the bridge because the bridge doesn't have much room for pedestrians. But the street doesn't offer much pedestrian space, either, so I stayed as close to the edge of the pavement as possible. That's when it happened.

Trying to stay out of the path of traffic, I took a step, placing my left foot near the edge of the pavement, just like I'd done a million times before. Only this step wasn't like those other millions of steps. Oh I did it all wrong this time, and I wasn't real happy about it.

Instead of placing my foot near the edge of the asphalt, this time I placed my foot on the edge of the asphalt. With the inside of my foot remaining atop the asphalt and the outside of my foot over the edge of the asphalt, there was no support for the rest of my body's weight. As my foot buckled and snapped fully into a right angle (in relation to the rest of my leg), something popped loudly and I was on the ground. I didn't think I was going to get up from this. I thought my foot would be dangling from my leg whenever someone came to help me up.

To continue, read California to Ohio, Part VII (when I finish writing it).

* * * * *
Or read the whole story in California to Ohio (Unabridged).

Aimless