Desert Shadow

VERY IMPORTANT! If I should

VERY IMPORTANT! If I should ever be hit by a car and cannot speak for myself, I want the perp to be prosecuted very aggressively. 2 B continued..

If you've never walked by

If you've never walked by an orange grove, picked an orange without asking, and eaten the orange, then you've never eaten an orange. Delicious!

Jim & I are Avatards.

Jim & I are Avatards. We saw it again yesterday in Redlands; ate at Shakey's. He's on buses back to LA now, so I'm gonna try to do 25 miles/day.

Thanks to the Rose Bowl's

Thanks to the Rose Bowl's entertainment committee, the dream police now live inside my head. They also come to me in my bed. Every single night.

I dare sleep in Fuck

I dare sleep in Fuck Fontana tonight. 22.34 miles today; 93.8 miles the last 5 days. Head still hurts. If I'm never seen again, the cops did it.

I just bought 'Into the

I just bought 'Into the Wild,' even though I didn't really have the money. I just turned my head and there it was. Figured it musta been a sign.

A really cool guy just

A really cool guy just stopped and talked to me in Claremont. His name is John Bobo and he played football at Tennessee in like 1953.

SAN DIMAS HIGH SCHOOL FOOTBALL

SAN DIMAS HIGH SCHOOL FOOTBALL RULES!!!

Ow, my head!

Here's a pic I took of my head Monday morning, about 16 hours after I slammed it on a tree root. As I hit the ground, I thought something to the effect of "Oh fuck! I might die now." No bullshit. Fortunately it ended up much less serious than death. Regardless, it was a very scary moment. --> I crossed paths with George Throop a few hours after my spill Sunday. Lots to say about him, but it's gonna have to wait until I make it to a computer. --> Monday night, as I ordered my usual at In-N-Out Burger in Hollywood, I received a call from an unfamiliar number. It was Jim, the guy I hung out with in early January! We met up last night, and he's gonna pop up again here and there. --> This morning I woke up at the intersection where the Rose Parade turns (Orange Grove & Colorado). The manager at Ralph's on Colorado in Pasadena is the biggest cockwad on the planet. I masterfully boosted his
blood pressure today; no regrets. Tonight I'm in Glendora. My head seems to have felt better today.

I just did 4 takes

I just did 4 takes with some guys who are making [goofy?] short films: http://lvxmedia.com & http://youtube.com/lvxmediatv.

Oops, I got the name

Oops, I got the name of that pizzeria wrong. It's Robano's, not Poblano's, and it's at 10057 Riverside Dr. in Burbank. (It's dead at lunchtime.)

NBC-Universal

Hey retards: Look down, I'm right outside your building. Now watch that money go walking away.

A tale of two oceans

Ocean #1: Pacific... Yesterday marked the beginning of my coast-to-coast walk. It started slow, with a couple bus rides to the Santa Monica Pier, then a stop at REI for a 4-liter water bladder. (An unexpectedly disappointing REI experience, I might add.) Several miles up the road (on Sunset), now carrying over 60 lbs, this new journey nearly ended as quick as it began when I tripped and hit my head REALLY hard on a very thick tree root. Scariest moment in all my travels. (When you fall with an additional 40% of your own weight on your back, you don't catch yourself. You're just dead weight, and you hit the ground like a cannonball.) After the fall, my face was bleeding, and I think I had a mild concussion. I also may have a somewhat serious neck/throat/jaw injury. Having witnessed my fall, a man and his daughter (Mark & Cara Friedman) pulled over to offer help. Even though I seem to be
OK, I hope they know how much I appreciate their concern. That gesture really meant a lot to me.

The Hollywood sign is covered

The Hollywood sign is covered by letters that read "SAVE PEAK." Can't get a pic because I'm on a bus on Santa Monica Blvd. Almost time to walk.

No regrets

Yesterday was one of the most amazing days of my life, but not because lots of strangers gave me money to have a great night out. Yesterday was amazing because of what I learned. You probably won't understand this, but I gave so much to the people who gave to me. I gave them real; I gave them truth; I gave them one of the rare 'no bullshit' moments of their lives. And they loved it. They took pictures of it, too. A guy I met at the theater was even about to write me a check after I showed him a pic of my sign, until I said he didn't need to. --> I learned that I don't want a TV show for myself; I truly want a TV show for you. My ego doesn't need the attention. If it did, I'd be walking around with a sign saying "Look at me and what I do. I'm so special and great." But I don't. I can't tell you everything I learned last night, and I don't need to try anymore because all is good. If I die
today, I'll die knowing I truly lived, unlike most people. Like the Irishman said: No regrets.

WOW!!! I lead the most

WOW!!! I lead the most amazing life. Even when it sucks--even when I get bitchy--my life is absolutely incredible. Wish I could let you see.

Damn I'm good

It started slow, but this sign earned me $6.81 in coins, as well as eleven singles, in the span of not quite an hour. Then came the 20, which brought my one-hour Avatar fund-raising total to $37.81. That means I'm gonna have some popcorn and maybe a Dr. Pepper tonight as I enjoy Avatar. Oh yeah, and I was also given some pudding, peaches, a can of "young coconut juice," a piece of cake, and a bottle of water. Someone gave me the cake and water as I walked down Colorado Boulevard in Pasadena, carrying the sign but not displaying it. The rest of it came to me at Corson Street & Allen Avenue. --> On my way to see Avatar...

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NBC does it again

I read in the LA Times yesterday that NBC overpaid something like 250 gazillion dollars for the rights to broadcast the Olympics. Seems like every time I look at a newspaper, it tells me how yet another ass-brained decision cost NBC millions upon millions of dollars. --> Does NBC do anything right anymore? I can think of one thing they did right a year ago: They called me and said they thought I might be a "really great character" for a doc series they're developing. And they were right. But, as one might expect from a bunch of retards who blow a million dollars with every breath, they left me hanging and never called me back. --> I expect everyone who reads this to write to NBC and tell them they should make a series out of Aimless. And you might as well include a link to this post. If you don't do it, then you can blame yourself for having 8,000 channels of nothing good to watch.
That's all I have to say about that (until NBC's next fiasco).

Daily bread

This is probably the most interesting donation I've ever received while flying a sign. (The 18" baguette, not the apple.) Standing on a concrete median beside the left-turn lane at an intersection (rather than an off-ramp, because some loser asshole bum was "working" the ramp), I received the baguette from someone driving the same direction I was facing, which is unusual. I'm guessing the donor must have already passed me from the other direction. Supposing he did, it means he probably put a good bit of thought into his gift idea. Hmmm... Hey, I'm not bitching; I'll eat the baguette, and I sincerely appreciate even the tiniest donations because no one owes me jack. I'm just saying it was a strange gift. --> The Avatar sign I mentioned last night may have to wait a while because I haven't found any cardboard yet. (Cardboard is a very precious mineral here in southern California.) Having
devoted a little more thought since last night, I'm now leaning toward writing 'DYING TO SEE AVATAR.'

Tomorrow in Pasadena I'm gonna

Tomorrow in Pasadena I'm gonna fly a sign that says 'MUST SEE AVATAR.' I'll let you know if it works (as I walk to the theater).

Couch surfing

After hearing about couchsurfing.org from several people over the last year or so, I finally checked it out. According to the web site, couchsurfing.com is a free service, although they encourage you to make donations. The site's rhetoric goes on to make quite a big deal about the virtues of sharing. However, before you can use the site, you have to make a $25 minimum donation.

I have $6.

But that's not my point. My point is that the word 'donation' has a meaning, and implicit in that meaning is the concept of 'optional.' When a donation is required, it's called a 'fee' or a 'price' or one of a few other terms.

I really don't like dishonesty. Although couchsurfing.org claims to be a non-profit public service, somebody's making money off of it--probably good money--which is fine, as long as they're honest about it. But they're not honest about it.

I know of another web site that has never generated a penny of revenue but is still able to operate and give something new every once in a while, thanks largely to one true donation, in the form of web hosting, from Net Acceleration. I'm pretty sure the creator of said web site would appreciate donations and a little more general support from the site's visitors, yet all support remains (and will remain) optional.

Couchsurfing.org, you disappoint me.

Time to go back to California.

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Vegas

Just relaxing alone at Josh Ellis's apartment in Vegas, near UNLV.

Oh, who am I kidding? Actually I'm cleaning Josh's filthy, disgusting bathroom. (I've already cleaned up the kitchen.) His girlfriend will love me forever because the bathroom, along with the rest of the place, is like grody to the max. (I'll upload a pic soon.)

I've known Josh for about ten years; met him when I lived here.

It's cold and rainy outside, like it always is when I show up in Vegas. Go figure. So it's nice to have a warm place to hang out and relax. Aside from the less-than-clean conditions, I've got a real good set-up here. It's almost like it's my own place because Josh has been with his girlfriend most of the time since I've been here. But usually when I come to Vegas, it's mainly to see Josh, although this time I also came to see someone from high school who lives here now.

I was planning to head back to California either today or Monday, but the rain has made that decision easy for me. It's supposed to keep raining tomorrow, too, but I wasn't planning to leave tomorrow anyway because ya gotta watch the Super Bowl, even if you're not a fan of either team.

When I get back to LA, I want to try to hang out with Brian as much as possible, as well as GloZell, if she ever calls me. Then on about Valentine's Day, I'm going to start my walk, probably with George Throop, as he should be passing through LA at about that time.

A million interesting things to say right now, but not enough time to share even a fraction of it, as always. Like I've said so many times before, it's too bad this is not a TV show; you don't know what you're missing. But whenever I try to tell you everything, all it does is stress me out and make me crazy. And you know what? I've stayed pretty damn sane this time out and I've had a great time even when I should have been miserable. I've finally found a winning formula, and part of that formula is less blogging.

If you want to know about the things I'm not sharing here, then help me get a TV show. I can't do it all by myself.

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Except...

Just before I sent the previous post, as I began retracing my steps east along the Sunset Strip, I saw a familiar face. Not a famous face or anything like that. It was a face I hadn't seen in 9 years; a face I was sure I'd never see again. The face was that of Brian Manning, an eccentric guitar genius who became my very close friend the last year I lived in Vegas. Out to see a band with a lady friend, Brian could only talk for about 5 minutes, but he gave me his number and we talked for a while today. --> I cannot accurately tell this story in 1,000 characters, but when I met him, Brian was an ex-junkie, clean for two years. Months later he relapsed. When I left Vegas, he was still struggling with his heroin/methadone demon. A few years later, I heard he had moved to Long Beach and was still battling that demon. Having often worried about him and even wondered if he was still alive, you
can't possibly understand how good it was to see him. And best of all, he's off the junk!

I love LA, but the

I love LA, but the Sunset Strip on a Saturday night is quite possibly--nay, most certainly--the fakest, lamest place I've ever been. Except...

I'll give you $100 if...

Today I walked by an Italian restaurant/pizzeria on Riverside Dr. (or Alameda?) in Toluca Lake (Burbank) that was once featured on an episode of Kitchen Nightmares. I think it's called Poblano's now, though it had a different name when the show aired. (The name change surely came with the new ownership, probably because the previous place had a bad reputation). I suspect Poblano's is struggling nearly as much as the previous place, partly because people who buy worthless restaurants usually don't know what they're getting into. Anyway, supposing it is struggling, I want to turn the place around because I'm THE person who can do it. But before I can do it, I need your help. I will send $100 to the first person who can convince the owner to call me, based on my guarantee that I can help them turn the place into a very profitable business, so long as I am given the freedom to change some
things in order to offer the best pizza and service available ANYWHERE. Call me if you're interested.

Return to Cambria

Lots to say, but not really any time to say it right now. I stayed a few days with my aunt and uncle in Sacramento. Aunt Carolyn put me on a train to San Francisco, where I hung out for a couple days. In San Francisco I was finally able to meet Glenn Shope of Net Acceleration, who has set me up with web hosting for the last three and a half years. Very cool guy, as are the rest of the people in his office.

At a coffee house in SF, some guy told me about George Throop, who is walking from Washington to LA to Florida to DC. After seeing George's web site for a minute, I sent George a short e-mail from my phone, saying I'd like to try to meet up with him sometime, since the two of us are in the same vicinity.

The weather has been miserable for most of the last ten days all over California, but it was especially crappy in SF, so I didn't stick around. Instead, I took a train to Gilroy, where I lost my phone one night but got it back the next day. After getting a ride to Paso Robles, I walked to Cambria and then another five or six miles beyond Cambria to the San Simeon Creek Ranch, better known to me as Jon ("Yon") and Lindy's place (see Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, & pic from September 2008).

(Dangit, I lost some stuff I'd already written. That ticks me off.)

This ranch is a really special place to me, as you may have figured out if you've read the previous posts from 2008. First of all, Jon and Lindy are amazing people. Also, there is just something really beautiful and peaceful about this place. Unfortunately, Jon's mother died last night, which makes this sort of an awkward time to be around. She was 93.

Lindy is going to take me to San Luis Obispo tomorrow, where I will probably take a train back to LA. It looks like an incredible train ride along the coast.

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Through Sacramento

After leaving the Gregory headquarters last Thursday, I walked a few miles to an REI store just outside downtown Sacramento. Sleeping near the store that night, I went back the next day to look around and to talk to Christa, an REI employee I'd met the previous night.

While looking around inside the store, I turned my head and noticed a familiar face. My first thought was that I recognized the face as someone who had been working at REI the previous night, but I quickly realized it was someone from Gregory. A moment later, a whole flock of Gregory's design team stood within a few feet of me. At this moment, I happened to be holding an Osprey backpack, checking it out to learn more about the differences between the various backpack brands.

What perfect timing. I felt like such a dick at that moment, after all they had done for me the previous day. It's not as if I was looking to buy the Osprey, though, and I think they knew that. But I still felt like a dick. It was definitely a Three's Company type of moment.

Shortly after that awkward moment, Wayne Gregory came over and introduced himself to me. To my surprise, he knew quite a bit about me and Aimless. He subsequently told me a story about a guy he met a few years ago. Driving around San Diego, Wayne spotted a guy with a backpack walking down the street. Noticing the backpack was an early Gregory model, which Wayne himself had made by hand, he stopped to talk to the guy.

The guy with the backpack, Art Brown, told Wayne he was about to walk from San Diego to Washington, DC. Wayne seemed pretty intrigued by Art and his lifestyle, and he quickly gave me Art's phone number. I guess he kind of saw Art and I as unique but similar kinds of people. It was a very cool story, and now I need to google "Art Brown" because I'm pretty sure there is stuff to find about him, like a blog.

That night (Friday) at about 9:00, as I walked the American River Parkway (a bike path), about ten miles up the road, I needed to get something to eat. So I left the trail at a rare exit point by a park near Cordova High School. Soon I encountered a young guy shooting a basketball alone. As I passed by the basketball court, he initiated a conversation with me and I asked him if he knew where I could find some fast food joints.

As the young dude began walking with me toward his home, I quickly figured out he was about 16. He seemed very interested in finding out a little bit about my story, and he also enjoyed talking about NBA basketball. Detecting a barely noticeable hint of a foreign accent, I asked him where he was from. He said he was born in Ukraine and moved here when he was about 4.

A very friendly, smart, and nice-looking young man, I had to wonder why he was all alone on a Friday night, but I never asked. After walking for 10 or 15 minutes, we reached a KFC, where I ended up having dinner. Before I entered the KFC, I thanked him for helping me find my way there. As I walked inside, he turned and continued toward home.

There was something about this kid that has me feeling weird. I just kind of feel like he looked up to me as a role model, even though he knew almost nothing about me. I feel like maybe I should have told him about this web site or given him my phone number in case he ever needed someone to talk to. I feel like I had a chance to make a positive impact on someone who may have needed a big brother figure in his life, but I failed. It's really bugging me--I mean it's REALLY bugging me--and I sure hope that kid is doing all right.

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Channel 6 video

All right, here's the video of me on channel six from the Rose Bowl. I approve. The Gregory folks might like this one, too.

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Gregory Mountain Products

I hate posing for pictures. I always end up looking like a total dillhole. (The flab will be gone soon, but I should probably make an effort to start doing push-ups on a regular basis.) On the left is John Sears, Director of R&D for Gregory Mountain Products. On the right is Nick Kelso, Sample Maker, who performed some very important repairs on my pack today at Gregory's headquarters in Sacramento. The people at Gregory are awesome. I was there for five hours, talking pretty extensively to almost everyone in the building. Nick nearly re-engineered my pack, replacing several key parts that were worn out, broken, or dirty. They also fed me, an act that always wins major points with me. But mostly it was just cool meeting them and seeing a little bit of their operation. It's clear that they spend a lot of time working to make their products the best they can be, largely by listening to
feedback from people like me. Most American companies could learn something from the folks at Gregory.

If anyone knows where to

If anyone knows where to find the channel 6 web page with my recent interview, please copy and paste the full URL in a comment to this post. Thx.

Jeff Norris, I need you

Jeff Norris, I need you to call me. I'm not sure if I have your current number.

Jim and DUH

OK, here's Jim at Carl's Jr. So much to say about my adventures with Jim, but no time to say it. --> I read in the LA Times this morning that it's now pretty clear that NBC fucked up big-time when they axed Leno from the Tonight Show and rearranged the late night lineup. Duh! Who couldn't have seen that coming? It kinda makes ya wonder what kind of idiots are running the show over there, doesn't it? Yeah, well I guess it also helps explain why I haven't heard from NBC, months after they contacted me, having seen at least one of my videos on YouTube. And I'll tell you what: The videos and stories I've been able to share with you are a mere fraction of the great stories I've lived and the compelling characters I've met. This stuff needs to be seen by the American people. My Aimless adventure needs to be a TV show. It's the best show there's ever been, but you're all missing it. So I'm
asking you to write to the networks and even MTV. Tell them why they should get behind Aimless...

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This is Kurt and some girl whose name I don't think I ever knew. I watched most of the Rose Bowl with them beside an RV outside the stadium. Good game. The RV belonged to a guy named Chris, who played center for Oregon in the mid 80s. I also met some local people earlier in the day who were cool as hell. They go to the Rose Bowl every year. From what I've heard, my interview on channel 6 was really cool. Hope you saw it. --> I stuck around Pasadena for the championship game. By game day I'd been hanging for several days with another tramp (from Cleveland) named Jim. Very cool guy. Almost all the people who talked to us, as we wandered the stadium parking lots, were USC fans (not Texas or Bama fans). --> The other day, as I watched Jim fly a sign ("Tough Times") at an off-ramp, an old man driving on the opposite side of the ramp honked a few times to get Jim's attention. When Jim turned
to look, the old man flipped him the bird. It was so funny. I'll put a pic of Jim in the next post.

Clay Hall left me a

Clay Hall left me a message today, saying channel 6 will air my interview sometime tonight. If you're in Columbus, keep an eye out for it.

Inexpensive

Cheap Trick, live outside the Rose Bowl... Free. (Way to blow it, Northwestern.)

Pasadena

Yesterday was easy. I woke up and tore down, then found a spot beside the interstate by 9:00. By 9:30 I was riding in a big truck with a Canadian lady named Timi ("Timmy"). At 2:00 I was in Pasadena. Walking around Pasadena and the Rose Bowl, so far it seems as if we Buckeye fans are vastly outnumbered by Ducks fans. That's unusual; maybe the OSU fans are just somewhere else right now. --> I just did another interview with Clay Hall, right outside the stadium. I imagine it will probably make it to the air this time because, I mean, come on. So keep an eye on Channel 6's Rose Bowl coverage if you're in Columbus. GO BUCKS!

Primm

Thanks, Luke, Brad and Stanish, for your text greetings. --> I've been out here in Primm, Nevada for a couple days now. Got a ride all the way from Las Cruces with a dude named Rodger on the 26th thru 28th. (He sleeps under his truck cap while traveling.) Although it made sense for me to get out in Quartzsite, I decided to extend the ride beyond Quartzsite, through places I've never been, then get a cheap room in Primm, where I'd probably end up blowing all my money on nickel keno. I almost did blow it all, but now I have more money than I did when I arrived, even after paying for a room and some food. Tonight I'm sleeping outside, though, across the state line, in California. Although it's cold out here, it's also cheaper and more comfortable than a room, and it'll motivate me to get up early and try to get a ride toward SoCal so I can make it to the Rose Bowl. Besides, I had a good
shower this morning, so that should keep me good for a couple weeks.

This doesn't even begin to describe what I just went through

Sunday, instead of getting out in Monahans, I went on south with Gil to Ft. Stockton. Sometimes ya just do that because the hours fly by when someone cool picks you up. When I arrived late in the afternoon, Ft. Stockton seemed to have all the right characteristics for getting a quick, long ride: 1) It was easy for drivers to see me; 2) There was plenty of room to pull over at the on-ramps; 3) I was stuck in the middle of the desert. And so on. Yes, it can be good to be stuck in a shitty place when hitchhiking. When you're stuck in a small desert town as Christmas approaches, people more easily find the kindness centers within their hearts... Not in Texas they don't. --> I finally got out of town today, after a miserable wait in some nasty weather (with something sharp stuck in my foot). Thankfully, a father and daughter made room for me in their pickup by moving a bunch of their stuff
from the crew cab to the truck bed. They brought me to El Paso. I'm so glad to be out of Ft. Stockton.

Heading west in a hurry

The movie they were filming in Shreveport will be called "Super." Shortly after I sent the previous post, I found out that "they" don't want people knowing Kevin Bacon is a cast member. Oops. --> I got a ride from Shreveport to Abilene Fri-Sat with an older guy named Marty. No luck getting out of Abilene yesterday, but it didn't take long today. Waiting by the on-ramp at about noon, a pickup truck stopped near me on the frontage road to offer a ride. As I prepared to load my pack into the back seat, a trucker pulled over behind the pickup. The Latino truck driver approached me to offer me a ride, figuring he might be able to take me farther than the pickup's driver could. But Gil (Guillermo), the pickup driver, was actually going farther than the trucker. So I stayed with Gil, who could take me to Monahans, TX. Down the road, as we passed the trucker, the truck pulled over again,
apparently to offer assistance to another driver (minivan) who seemed in need of help. What an awesome guy!

Moving

After a slow start to this new journey, yesterday I got a ride with a guy named Todd, who was on his way home to Bossier City, Louisiana (from Pennsylvania). Todd picked me up at an on-ramp in northern Kentucky, just outside Cincinnati, and took me all the way to Bossier City, where he also set me up with a motel room for the night. I'm pretty sure this ride is by far the longest ride I've ever received from anyone not driving a big truck. --> On I-30, somewhere near Hope, Arkansas, the traffic in front of us suddenly swerved and parted, revealing a pair of headlights coming straight at us. With only a few seconds to react, Todd was able to slow down and avoid hitting the moron, who didn't seem very concerned with the prospective consequences of driving on the wrong side of the interstate. (More..) --> Tonight, in downtown Shreveport, I've stumbled upon yet another movie shoot. This one
stars Liv Tyler and Kevin Bacon. I haven't seen them (perhaps because the crew is still setting up).

On the road again

Since today marks the first of three projected days of halfway decent weather in central Ohio, it's time to hit the road again. (And by "halfway decent weather," I mean the low temps are supposed to be around 30 degrees, rather than 10-20 degrees.) This "decent" weather will buy me a little time to work my way south, where it should be a little warmer.

Once I get far enough south, I intend to follow I-10 to California, partly because I want to be around for the Rose Bowl, but also because I intend to walk from Santa Monica to Coney Island (NYC), beginning sometime in February.

I won't have a computer this time, and I don't know how much I'll blog from my phone while I'm on the road. If I do end up blogging regularly, I'm guessing I'll end up saying a lot of things that piss people off. Not because I want to piss people off, but instead because this kind of life messes with your head and creates a new reality that's impossible to understand unless you are the person living it. (Or maybe I really am a total prick.)

If I end up saying things that piss you off, I encourage you to leave comments that will piss me off, which will probably lead me to say even more things that will piss you off. (If you haven't already figured it out, that's just the way it works around here.) I realize there are only a handful of people who really care what I have to say here, and I'm sure that's not going to change.

So off I go...

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Is that the best you can do?

Tonight, about half an hour after I buried my best little buddy, some guy left me a voice mail message:

"Hey Ryan Powell, if you're still in Florida, why don't you leave. You're a loser. Just saw your video on YouTube. You're a loser."

The call came from this number: 239-269-9575. I assume the message was in response to the Naples cop video because:

1. In that video I told the cops my real phone number when they asked for it.
2. I doubt that the dude went digging through the Aimless web site to find my phone number.
3. The call came from area code 239 (Naples).

If he was referring to the cop video, the guy is an idiot. I don't know why so many people interpret that video as if I'm trying to make some kind of negative statement, because there is almost nothing negative about it.

Since I no longer have any reason to be here in Ohio, I figure I'll hit the road again within the next week. Maybe I should go to Florida. Or maybe I should call that guy back and tell him I'm on my way to Florida. Just to be a dick.

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Goodbye, my beautiful boy

My little man Twerky died peacefully this morning as I slept beside him on the floor. Only three and a half years old, he was a very special guy, and it's going to take me a long time to heal.

T-werk, you were my best little buddy. When Pinky died, and then when Homer died, you stepped up like a pro and helped ease my pain. Just by being pure goodness and sweetness, you warmed my heart and made me feel loved when I needed it most. I love you more than anyone or anything, and I sure hope you've always known how much I love you. I also hope my love made your final days a little easier.

It's not right that you had to go, my little Bubbly Ubbly, because you so clearly loved being alive, even with only three legs to keep you hoppin'. You were so strong and you didn't take shit from anyone; I thought we'd have at least another 10 or 12 years together. But I guess things don't always work out how they're supposed to.

I love you so much, Twerky, and I already miss you more than I can say. The tears rolling down my cheeks will be replaced by more tears and yet more tears after that. But at least you don't hurt anymore, and I'm glad you didn't appear to suffer as I selfishly kept your failing body alive. If you did suffer, please forgive me. And please come to see me in my dreams now and again, will ya?

Goodbye, my beautiful man. I love you with every bit of my heart and I will never forget you or the joy you brought to my life.



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Maybe I'm a prick

Things I say on this blog often come out wrong. Between the stress of living like a bum and everything that goes along with it, a blog is the worst possible way to share a story like Aimless.

You have no idea how much work it takes just to stay alive on the road. I want to tell you everything, good and bad. I want to show you videos of all the things that happen to me and around me. I want to GIVE you something that no one else on this planet can give you because I know it would absolutely blow your mind. But it's impossible for me to give you everything I want to give you because one person can only do so much.

Life on the road usually is not very fun. Mostly it's lonely; a kind of loneliness you cannot understand unless you've spent several consecutive months living outside, among millions of people you'll never know, usually far from anyone you do know. People come in and out of your life as frequently as air enters and exits your lungs. It's cold and it's hot. It's painful and incredibly stressful. In short, it sucks most of the time. However, in between all the things that tear you down and beat you up, there are great moments and great people that make it worth all the pain and discomfort to keep doing what I do.

Now that I'm pretty sure nothing is ever going to become of Aimless, I have to start protecting my own health and sanity a little better. One way I intend to do that is by getting rid of the major sources of stress in my Aimless life, beginning with this blog. I probably won't stop blogging entirely, but I'm not going to make any extra effort to keep cranking out posts that don't say what I really want to say.

With all the time I've spent on the road these last few years, I have an incredible story to tell. I can tell you countless amazing stories that no one else can tell you because no one else has the balls to do what I've done; because no one else is as honest as I am.

Aimless really should be a TV series, and it almost certainly will be a book (or ten) someday. But Aimless is not going to be a regularly updated blog anymore because I'm sick of killing myself to entertain people, many of whom do not appreciate the sacrifices I make for their FREE entertainment. (And if you think I'm being an asshole here, you're one of the people I'm talking about.)

As you probably already know, I've recently taken an unplanned departure from the road because I need to spend as much time as possible with my beautiful and special cat, who is probably going to die soon, after only three and a half short years of life. For the first several months of Twerky's life, I was the only person he would allow to come near him. To this day, less than a handful of people have ever managed to touch him without me holding him. This cat means more to me than anyone or anything because, unlike any human being, he loves me and is completely honest with me. (Most people could learn something very valuable from him.)

I intend to hit the road again after my little man leaves me. However, with a promising new feline leukemia treatment available (which he'll begin in two days), I hope I can instead leave once he starts feeling better. So I don't really know when I might hit the road again. All I know is that I want to be in Santa Monica no later than early February to begin the coast-to-coast walk I've mentioned here once or twice.

Why, you may ask, do I want to do this coast-to-coast walk?

Answer: Because I can. Because I can do anything I tell you I can do. Because if there is something I can't do, I won't hesitate to admit I can't do it.

Here are a couple other things I can do (that almost no one else can do):

1. Operate a ridiculously successful and profitable independent pizzeria;
2. Create and host one of the most interesting and insightful television shows in the history of TV.

Oh yeah, and the production costs of such a TV show would be only a fraction of just about every other show out there, mostly because I bust my ass and lead by example.

Of course, for either of those things to happen, I first need to meet a wise investor who actually has money to invest. Unfortunately, I live in the United States of America, where most people, especially those with any power, are full of shit and incompetent at doing their jobs.

This is precisely why the economy is so fucked up. It's because we, as a nation, have created an impatient, uninsightful culture of dishonesty and we don't use our resources wisely. (I know 'uninsightful' is not a word. It should be.)

Bullshit should no longer be in demand, now that we've let the best bullshitters ruin us. For reasons I'll never understand, though, we keep craving the bullshit while ignoring those with true insight, and we never learn. That's why we're all hurting.

We don't even know how to learn the hard way anymore. When we fuck everything up--when we do all the things that should teach us a valuable lesson on how not to do things--we just keep doing everything the same way we did it before.

Wake up.

Or call me negative and pretend I'm responsible for your misery.

Just remember: I could be the guy who gives you the best job you'll ever have. That is, in a functional economy governed by supply and demand instead of bullshit, I could be the guy who gives you the best job you'll ever have. Or maybe you could be the person who gives me the best job I'll ever have, which might possibly be the best hire you'll ever make.

If this didn't come out how I wanted it to come out, I don't care. I have no reason to care.

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Miss it yet?

Partly thanks to an unexpected ride from Tara (who I mentioned a few weeks ago after seeing her outside Ohio Stadium), I made it "home" to my cat Sunday afternoon. I've spent a lot of time the last couple days searching the internet for information regarding natural treatments for feline leukemia. My boy is doing sorta not really OK right now, but I intend to bring him back and make him healthy again, even though he's been given a quick death sentence by his vet.

I don't have much interest in writing about my travel experiences anymore. I may upload one more video soon, though, which will probably blow your mind. (I don't know; I haven't watched the footage yet.)

I can't tell you even a fraction of this story, and I can show you even less because my unpaid job requires at least ten times as much work as any other job. You don't know what you've been missing, but it's better than all the shit you haven't been missing on TV.

You had the chance to help me make something out of this, but you chose not to. If I never hit the road again or write another blog post here, you'll miss it more than I'll miss it.

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I pulled out the camera

I pulled out the camera tonight while a stupid Lansing, Illinois cop was fucking with me. This footage should be really good; probably hilarious.

Sorry I've been so bitchy

Sorry I've been so bitchy and grouchy lately. Things are really tough sometimes, and the last week has been one of the toughest (yet greatest?).

Fuck it all

My computer is worthless. I can do absolutely nothing with it. Literally, I cannot do ANYTHING with it. If I could do anything with it, I wouldn't be using my phone to write this post. I have added nothing to the computer since the day I took it out of the box, yet it keeps telling me "Low Disk Space." Then when I follow the directions to free up some space, it won't let me do it. What the fuck!?! --> I'm at the Starbuck's where I met Meredyth, hoping she'll show up and provide some good company because she made it a point to let me know she comes here a lot. I came here last night, too, for the same reason, but no sign of her. Understandably, I don't expect to see her tonight, either, specifically because I really want to see her. That's my biggest problem: sometimes I want things. If I didn't want anything, my life would be perfect. I'll be leaving Chicago tomorrow, so whatever.

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I know you're laughing at me

I met a girl tonight. Her name is Meredyth. (I think I spelled it right.) We talked for a few hours before she left Starbuck's. I didn't want her to leave. Either that or I wanted her to take me with her. She will read this. She should call me.

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Loco

Feel crazy today.

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GloZell Booby Betty Emmy

Brian and Jacob: I think I told you about this picture. It's Betty White staring at GloZell's booby while GloZell holds her friend Mary's new Emmy. Some of y'all may remember me meeting GloZell at the Tonight Show a little over a year ago. GloZell and Mary rule (and they had better become fans of Aimless pretty soon, too).

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Chaotic

I'm all messed up right now. Clay Hall from channel 6 called me yesterday several hours before I received the bad news about my sweet, beautiful, special cat. Clay and I are figuring on meeting at Purdue next Friday or Saturday, I suppose to do a live segment in conjunction with the stuff they taped last week.

I don't know if I should stay out here for another week or head back to Ohio ASAP to be with my sweet little bubbly ubbly so I can show him how much I love him. I feel like if I don't head back right away, I might end up regretting it. Even though he seemed very healthy when I left a couple weeks ago, it was so hard for me to just walk away from him. Man, this is so wrong.

A few caring individuals stopped by my tent this morning at 6:30 to give me a sack of food. The two women and one man were making the rounds to feed homeless people after a very cold night. In my sack there's a ham (or salami) sandwich, Ruffles, Rice Krispies Treat, apple sauce, pudding, a cookie, and a Kool-Aid Jammer (cherry). I wish I'd been alert enough to tell them to google 'Aimless' or something so they might find their way here and find out how much I appreciate their selfless act of kindness.

I'm really confused right now; having a hard time holding back the tears. I want so badly for there to be some kind of life after death so I can someday be with all my dear feline buddies who were (or will be) taken between the ages of 2 and 4: T-werk, Pinky, Homer, the Sammys, Skipper, and so many others. I love them all so much, and as much as I want to believe in some kind of life after death sometimes, I just can't see it being real.

I don't know. I admit it often seems as if there may be some kind of plan for me, even though I've pretty much never received anything I want from life (particularly love). Even though some of you certainly think I'm a major prick, an eerily high percentage of the people I meet tell me straight out that they feel like I was delivered into their lives to inspire them in one way or another. And I mean every day, too. From hopeless junkies to, well, every kind of person there is. Not just people I meet, either. I get e-mails from people who have watched my videos and read this blog. All these things are so overwhelming, and I don't know if I can take much more of it. I feel like I'm gonna pop, or that it's all gonna end soon. Like when that car almost ran me over; maybe that was just to prepare me for the real thing.

As big-headed as this may seem, the things that happen to me every day are all starting to make me wonder if I'm some kind of chosen healer or something. In fact, these thoughts, as well as the actions that create them, are really beginning to freak me out because I don't want them. But it's every day; many times a day. Constantly.

I mean, y'all know I'm as honest as they come (or, at least, you should realize that by now). Whenever I write something here, even as wild as some things may seem, you should know I never lie or even stretch the truth. Even when I know my words will make me look like a major asshole in the eyes of many, I still tell it like it is because I believe strongly that total honesty is the one thing that might be able to save this wrecked civilization. (Honestly, though, I think we're fucked. Our collective selfishness and lack of integrity is so far out of control that we all seem to think it's the normal and right way to behave. We all want to fuck everyone else over before they fuck us over, and that's what's fucking us all over.)

I just don't get it. I've always felt so unworthy and unwanted. Now, many years after high school, in addition to all the feedback I receive from people I inspire, I've also come to realize that a lot of girls in high school were very interested in being someone special to me. But I never knew then. And now I see it every day while I'm on the road from women I encounter. Even dressed as a bum, I can tell there are plenty of women out there who see me as someone who could be someone special in their lives. Yet over the span of my life, every time I've ever tried to ask out a girl, I've been shot down in flames big-time. So I just don't get it. And nowadays, after so much repeated failure throughout, I have very little motivation to try anymore.

Is this going anywhere, or am I just ranting incoherently? Look, I already told you I'm confused.

Anyway, if there are any ladies out there who honestly wonder within your own heart if maybe I could become someone special in your life, and/or that you could become someone special in my life, either for a while or forever, call me. We all put up so many bullshit barriers of fear which keep us from living our lives how we should live them, and this love/intimacy barrier seems to be one of a few barriers I just can't break through. But I'm ready to meet someone special, and I guess this is my first attempt to break down the very thick wall I've built around myself. I know there is at least one person out there reading this who would like to find out if I might be "the one," or even just a great friend, so do it.

Even with all the seemingly hostile and negative things I write sometimes, I wonder: Have I found a way to touch your heart a little bit? If so, reach out and touch mine because I really need that right now. It might just turn out to be the best investment you'll ever make.

Yeah, I know it doesn't seem right to be talking about some of this stuff while I prematurely mourn the loss of a great friend, but that's just how my brain works right now. If you were out here doing this, you'd understand.

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When the shit hits the fan

So now I just found out that my 3-year-old tripod cat has leukemia and may be dead in a month, even though he used to test negative; even though he stays isolated from other cats.

What the fuck kind of cruel joke is this?!? Everything I love dies or just goes away without an explanation. Every fucking time.

I may have to go "home" now to spend some time with my best little buddy while I still can.

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Happy thoughts

Man, I have so much to say about Chicago, but I probably won't find the time. There are at least a couple pics on deck to publish, but who knows if I'll ever text the words to go with the pics.

Everything was going great until I read those comments yesterday. Obviously it really pissed me off. It actually ruined my day and spun me and my vibe 180 degrees. And no, I won't regret saying what I said in that post; I'll just regret that I had to say it. I already do. But I'm not just going to pretend shit like that doesn't happen. It may be easy for the other people involved to pretend it never happened, but I can't because I'm a real person with real emotions and real, marketable, valuable talents and skills.

Anyway, it's time to move on and start sharing happy thoughts again. The things I want to write about include: Wrigley Field, Terry (a homeless heroin addict who's been my neighbor the last couple nights), a guy named Tom who I bumped into in two different Starbuck's[es] several miles apart, and probably more stuff I can't think of right now.

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That Starbucks

Hey Jacob and Brian,

That Starbuck's I was trying to find is at the southwest corner of Lake & La Salle. It's really big and comfortable (and dry).

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Home

To the anonymous commenter who keeps telling me to come "home" for new glasses and boots and shit:

As you may recall, Anonymous, I went "home" a few weeks ago, walking 19 miles one day when I was only in shape to walk about 12. Two hours after my arrival, ridiculously tired and sore, I found myself handcuffed in the back of a sheriff's cruiser, just because someone at "home" is a total fucking prick who can't mind his own business, is unable to peacefully resolve the conflicts he starts, and lies to cops specifically in an effort to have his own son thrown in jail.

Talk about a sick fucking mind...

I'll go blind before I accept any more charity from you. I don't want glasses that have been paid for with your money, just like I didn't want the $100 you left on the desk. Additionally, I left my boots behind because I wear sandals now.

I could have made you rich by now, fuckers, because I am THE BEST at what I do. (I'm not talking about Aimless, either, even though I also do this better than anyone else out here.)

Do you remember how fast the 33 lbs of pizza I made at your party disappeared? (Yeah, and I was drunk as hell when I made the last six pies.) Even if I'd been able to make another twenty 16" pizzas, it still wouldn't have been enough.

And have you figured out yet why that wouldn't have been enough? Yeah, well it's because I am the best at what I do, even with mega inadequate equipment and ingredients. It's because I possess a set of skills that only another handful of people on this planet possess. It's a set of skills that's in demand big-time, in an age where there isn't anyone out there who can do it, which makes it worth a lot of money to anyone who understands the law of supply and demand. Unfortunately, there are also only a handful of people who both understand supply & demand and have money to invest.

As is evidenced by this global recession, we have officially entered the "Really Fucking Retarded Age" of human history.

You told me you were on my side, but you lied. You must be the two stupidest people on the face of the earth because, as you may remember, I immediately backed us out of the business "opportunity" that, as we all know now, would have broken you. If you haven't figured it out yet, it's because I understand the market; I understand what makes some businesses fail and others succeed. And it really doesn't take a fucking genius to figure this shit out.

You made me believe you intended to invest in my unique and valuable talents. But whenever it came time for you to put up or shut up, you neither put up nor shut up. You have lied to me too many times for me to ever trust you again. But the kicker is that you tried to have me put in jail when you saw me for the first time in two months.

Fuck you.

You can't just undo that, and that's the one act for which you most definitely will never be forgiven, Claudia. As I stood there, tired, crying, begging you to show your son you have a heart, you just stood there and let them cuff me. You just stood there and let them abuse me.

That's your house, bitch, and they can't do that shit in your house without your consent. But you let them do it, and now you have to face the consequences.

Larry and Claudia Powell: You decided before I was 5 years old that I was a fucking worthless piece of shit. Well, you were really god-damn wrong, and it's your loss, OK. So don't comment on my blog anymore, acting like we're kin because we're not kin. And don't call me. And shut off my phone if you want because I don't want anything more to do with you. The only reasons I even stayed "home" for a week were 1) I love my cat, and 2) you were gone.

Don't even think about commenting on this one, people, because you have no fucking clue. That especially includes you, Jay.

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Jacob & Brian

Jacob (right) and Brian are followers of Aimless. They live in northwest suburban Chicago and came into the city yesterday to meet me. Very cool. (I think Luke is the only other 'fan' I'd made a coordinated effort to meet on the road prior to this.) I met up with these guys downtown in mid afternoon, following some pretty crappy weather (cold rain). They felt like friends right away, as we talked below an el structure. Soon we went to a Starbuck's and talked for a while, before heading to Lou Malnatti's for some real Chicago deep dish pizza, where we ordered a 14" sausage pizza. I'm not usually much of a sausage fan, but this was good stuff. This was my first time eating real Chicago pizza, and I have to say it was damn good. I can't really compare it to New York pizza, though, because the two styles are entirely different animals. Hope to have some more before I leave Chicago, which
won't happen for at least a week because I bought a 7-day transit pass today. Thanks, guys!

Not meeting a Focker

I could totally fit the Sears Tower in my backpack if I wanted to. I always thought that thing looked smaller than they say it is. It certainly was built in a very forgettable era of architecture, eh. Soldier Field (where I took this pic) will be a fine place to sleep for a few nights. I should actually be able to enjoy some things in Chicago that cost money because I received a big donation Friday from Nick, who gave me a ride from Martinsville to Bloomington. --> Ha! I just happened upon an interesting sight. They're shooting 'Little Fockers' here in Grant Park right now. (I didn't know they were making another Focker movie.) The security dude told me DeNiro is here on the set, but I can't see shit. For all I know, he might be right in front of me. They have a much bigger security perimeter here than I think they would have if this was LA. --> I'm really glad I finally made it to Chicago. Fortunately the weather has been nice so far.

Slept downtown beside the Chicago

Slept downtown beside the Chicago River, near Columbus Dr. No one bothered me, which is good because I really needed the rest. Feet are torn up.

I'm in Chicago, but I

I'm in Chicago, but I can't see it because I have no glasses. Chicago people, call me if you want to meet.

Hoosiers

Sorry about the false alarm (for anyone who may have prepared to record me on channel 6). I thought Clay was planning to do a live interview, but they ended up taping it, possibly to air in a week or two. (He just called and told me he'll let me know when it airs.) During the interview, I felt really relaxed and almost unaware that there was a camera in my face. Nice feeling. Anyway, Indiana's fans are kick-ass tailgaters. The way they party, you'd think IU had a football program with a winning tradition. It was a slow start, but I met some really cool folks today, particularly Forest and his crew. Hanging out at these football games is very tiresome, though; I'm beat. --> Things have been going really good lately. It's been fun again, despite the constant pain you feel when you push your body so far beyond its limits. I think I actually enjoy the pain of sore muscles and hunger. And I
like people, too. Maybe I'll head toward Chicago now. There are some "fans" there I'd like to meet.

I'll probably be on WSYX

I'll probably be on WSYX channel 6 (Columbus) sometime around 3:00 today, with Clay Hall. If anyone can record it or DVR it, you rock.

From IU's Memorial Stadium in fewer than 1 001 characters

The temp was in the 40s near Dayton two nights ago. My face was cold as I walked, yet my sandaled feet were very warm. From Dayton I got a ride yesterday to the Indiana state line with a 64-year-old ex-trucker who likes to bang chicks. After waiting at the Richmond on-ramp for a couple hours, I got a ride with a 50ish professional guy named John. When I mentioned to him that I'd taken some geology classes in college, I saw him light up in an instant. Y'see, it turned out that John is a geologist who was on his way to Terre Haute to check out the stability of the ground surrounding a dam. He let me out on the south side of Indy, at Rte 37, so I could head toward Bloomington, where the Buckeyes play tomorrow. A cop gave me a ride a few miles because a driver called 911 to report that another pedestrian was stalking me in the darkness. I found out that my rain gear is awesome in heavy rain
when used properly. I've walked more miles in the last week than I did the previous two months.

Leaving Columbus

Last Friday I wanted to hit the road at 2:00, but I didn't leave until 4:30. Before I left, I thought I was going to walk to the truck stops near London, but since there was a Buckeye game the next day I ended up heading toward Ohio Stadium.

Walking up Norton Road, which has no shoulder and a steep slope off to the side, five miles closer to Columbus I rolled my ankle and ate gravel for the first time since December 2006. My spill may have something to do with the fact that I walk in hiking sandals now, instead of boots with plenty of ankle support. I don't know, but I probably said "God dammit!" shortly after tasting earth.

Half an hour later, only 20 feet from the end of the bad part of Norton Road, I rolled my ankle yet again and hit my head in the gravel on the side of the road. It felt like I dislocated the ankle this time, but I don't think that happened because I didn't hear a pop and the ankle was not horribly swollen. When you fall down while carrying a huge backpack, you end up on your back like a turtle on its shell, unable to get up until you unclip all the straps that keep the pack attached to you. It's probably a pretty funny sight, but it's not fun.

After about 11 miles, a dude name Jim stopped on West Broad Street and gave me a ride the last seven or eight miles to Ohio Stadium. That was cool because it was pretty late and I would've had to walk most of that distance in the morning. Instead, I camped out next to the regular site of Kropkogate.

Saturday was wet. During a break in the rain, as I sat outside the west side of Ohio Stadium, my friend Tara saw me as she walked by with her sister, who was there to sign (not sing) the national anthem. I ended up talking to Tara for probably almost an hour.

Until about March of this year, I hadn't seen Tara since high school. She and I "went together" for about a week just before our freshman year of high school. Even though we've only seen each other twice now after all this time, I feel really close to Tara. She is a special friend to me, and I feel like a special friend to her. (Don't even think about it; she's married and has two kids.) Boy was I stupid for not trying to keep her. Also, I wish I had thought to take a picture of her or us to post here.

After Tara went into the stadium, I walked back to Kropkogate. It rained lightly, and it looked like the weather might be all right until the game started. Then it just poured for the whole first half. Fortunately I had shelter at Kropkogate, but most of the people in the stadium must have been miserable. Regardless, the Buckeyes won 30-0.

Sunday when I got up, I thought I might head for the truck stops, but then I decided I'd walk toward Yellow Springs instead. Walking south on Riverside drive, I rolled my ankle again. This time I didn't fall. Nevertheless, I decided to take a short break because the near-fall caused my ankle to become yet a little more damaged than the first two spills (as if the fall that tore my ligament three years ago wasn't already enough to deal with).

I guess you could say my left knee and ankle are totally fucked up right now, and they probably will be forever.

I made it to West Jefferson late Sunday night, but on the way, as you may already have read, I was nearly hit by a car as I walked north on Amity Road, toward Dellinger. I've had a lot of close calls with cars before, but this one left me nearly in tears because as the car approached me, I literally wasn't sure if I'd be alive five seconds later.

The next night I made it to South Charleston, then last night I arrived in Yellow Springs. I've had lots of crappy weather and wind to deal with, so I feel pretty good about walking almost 60 miles in three days.

I might try to make it to Bloomington, Indiana in the next couple days. This much is sure: It's time to get the hell out of the midwest. Summer is over and winter is coming.

There's probably more interesting shit to say, but I can barely type on this thing, especially with several of the keys out of order. Don't expect many more blog posts because this is just too much trouble.

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Some stupid motherfucker just missed

Some stupid motherfucker just missed running me over by literally a few inches, even with my flashing headlamp that everyone else sees just fine.

Trying to leave

I intended to walk outta here over an hour ago, but after realizing a few keys don't work on my tiny Asus netbook-type thing, I've been trying to fix it, with no luck. It's the 7,8,0, and Delete keys; maybe a couple others as well. The main reason I'm taking it with me is to use a spreadsheet to keep track of my walking mileage, but I won't be able to do that very well without functional number keys.

Add that to the fact that I have no eyeglasses and you may understand why I'm very frustrated right now. Why do I put myself through this shit?

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Missed opportunity

When I just checked my voice mail, I was surprised to hear a message from Clay Hall, the sports guy on WSYX channel 6 (Columbus). I talked to him for a while the night before the USC/OSU game two weeks ago, and I guess he called me the day of the game, saying maybe we could do an interview. Unfortunately I never even knew he had called me, so that's a bit of a bummer.

Now that I've hung around Clay and Jerod Smalley (from channel 4) quite a bit, I have tons of respect for what they do. They really bust ass, and they always have to be sharp and attentive, especially when they're doing live reports.

Well, after a short break, it's time to hit the road again.

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Walk, Forrest!

Right now all I want to do is begin that coast-to-coast walk I've been thinking about. I just want to be alone for real for a while, instead of being alone with everyone. Unfortunately it's the wrong time of year to begin such a journey, regardless of where I start. For example, if I was to start from LA right now, I'd be in mountains and high elevations in late fall or early winter. But if I was to start from New York right now, I'd be in northern latitudes for a few months (where it's gonna get cold soon), then I'll hit the mountains and high elevations in late winter. Either way it doesn't work.

In all likelihood, I'll start from the Santa Monica Pier in January or February. That'll put me in the desert at the best possible time of year, then it will put me at the higher elevations in spring. After that it's all downhill (for 2,000 miles).

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Dead end

It just occurred to me why Aimless will never become a TV series: No network or production company is going to invest in a show that likely cannot last more than a couple seasons.

Am I willing to do this for another five or ten years? I doubt it. And networks already know it.

So there you have it; the Aimless guy admits his brilliant idea is worthless. Or is it?

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Break time

I walked 20 miles "home" from Ohio Stadium last Sunday, and I'll be staying here until about next Friday, only because my parents will be gone for the next week.

When I leave again to who-knows-where, I'm not going to take this laptop with me because it's getting beat up and it's awkward to carry. Although it's nice to have with me on the road, I simply cannot use it enough to justify keeping it with me. Instead, I'm going to take the tiny netbook I had with me last year (even though it's not very useful). Since I can easily fit the netbook in my pack, I'll no longer need to carry a large laptop case, which has performed double duty as a camera bag for the last two months.

I can handle the laptop's weight just fine, especially when I keep it in my backpack instead of inside the carrying case. But keeping it in my backpack is what's beating it up so much. However, when I carry it in its case, along with my camcorder, tapes, and other stuff, the case ends up weighing about 13 pounds. This 13-pound case then dangles from my fingers and swings with my arm as I walk, creating a very awkward weight distribution that throws off my balance and makes every step a chore. Fortunately, now that I'll be carrying the netbook inside my pack as well as trading the computer case for a much lighter camera bag, I won't have to waste so much effort when I walk. (But I won't have a very useful computer, either.)

* * *
It appears as if I'm not going to hear from Ashley, the girl I met at a tailgate party near Ohio Stadium last week. I'm disappointed because she initiated our groovy chat, using my backpack as a conversation starter as I sat on the pack, tired from a long day of carrying it around outside the stadium. I felt like our conversation really could have led somewhere. Friendship? Definitely. Courtship? Possibly. Maybe she just forgot the word I told her to google ('Aimless'). Guess I'll never know.

* * *
After writing this, I realized I've already said this in another post, but yes, I did make it on TV last week in a sequel to last year's interview with Jerod Smalley of WCMH channel 4. Actually I was on TV twice last weekend. The first appearance was live on the news Friday evening and the other part was recorded for the game special that aired Saturday evening. It looks like I'm never going to see either part, though, because no one at "home" recorded them (or even watched them).

* * *
Now that I've had the opportunity to watch a little TV for the first time in a while, I've mostly opted not to watch it. Whenever I flip through the 8,000 listings on the on-screen channel guide, looking for something remotely interesting, I find nothing. And it just leaves me scratching my head, wondering why there isn't a crew out there following me, meeting the people I meet and seeing the things I see.

* * *
I apparently have no eyeglasses anymore, which is freaking wonderful. And no, I didn't lose them, nor did I break them. (It's a long story that I don't feel like telling here.) It would be pretty cool if I could somehow end up with some new glasses because it helps to see when you're out looking for something.

So I guess the unintended message of this post is that almost everything still seems not to be going my way. I'm not complaining, though; just telling you what's up and what's on my mind. I'm not necessarily even unhappy about this kind of stuff anymore because I'm so used to it.

If only you knew the whole story.

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Ashley & Kropkogate

I met Ashley at Kropkogate last Saturday. I met Kropkogate (Scott Kropko) at USC last year. Ashley, if you've found your way to this blog, I want you to know I really enjoyed talking to you. You felt like a friend to me, and I like that feeling. Call me so we can pick up where we left off.

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Bittersweet

Well, the Buckeyes managed to lose yet another big game they should have won. During the game, I spent a couple hours talking to a very sweet girl named Ashley. She had to leave without much notice from her friends, so we were unable to exchange numbers or e-mail. As she left, though, I told her to google 'Aimless.' So Ashley, if you see this, I'd really like to talk to you again. 614-738-3867. I'll be looking forward to hearing from you soon.

I was just interviewed by

I was just interviewed by WCMH channel 4 again, outside Ohio Stadium. Think I was already on the news (live), but will be on game special, too.

Time to go

OK dude, it's time for you to wake up and leave. I'm trying to get a ride, and you're making it very difficult for me by illegally occupying all the ramp space and confusing the drivers who might otherwise stop to offer me a ride. It's well after 11:00 and you've been here long enough (at least three hours). There are five large truck stops in the area, so you have no excuse for this thoughtless act of laziness. Now get your ass up and go because there's a big football game coming up this weekend and I want to make it to Columbus by Friday (from Dandridge, Tennessee) so I might be interviewed by TV crews again. Go Bucks!

Rain and Roldan

Long story short...

While thousands and thousands of people drove on by during my time of need, as a miserable downpour created new rivers eight days ago in Atlanta, only Roldan Smith stopped to give me a hand. With the relentlessly cold rain bringing me ever so close to tears, Roldan got me out of the rain and took me to Stone Mountain, where his family was celebrating his dad and brother's birthdays.

Roldan, his immediate family, and his brother's in-laws welcomed me to their family gathering as if I actually belonged there. They fed me well and left me with food to go. I told them some of my stories and they told me some of theirs. It was one of those magical days in which misery leads directly to joy and all-around good stuff.

I could have made this story more than a few pages long, and I will. Read about it when my book gets published.

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Citation

So here's a citation I received from a DeKalb County Police officer (just outside Atlanta) a few days ago.

 

Oh boy, where do I start?

OK, first of all, I wasn't doing anything. I wasn't flying a sign for a ride, nor was I flying a sign for money, nor was I displaying my thumb to passersby. All I was doing was sitting on a guardrail near an on-ramp (I-85 northbound exit from US 23) with my backpack on my back (about 20 feet from a bus stop).

Like always, most of the on-duty cops drove right by me, not at all worried about the harmless, clean traveler who just wanted to make his way up the road. But one cop, seizing an opportunity to make a huge positive impact, stopped to hassle me.

After asking me what I was doing there, the cop told me I wasn't allowed to be there and I wasn't allowed to solicit. Cool enough; I'm used to being told to leave spots like that. But as I prepared to leave my spot, I wanted to make sure she knew I was not doing everything she implied I was doing. I told her, "I understand if you're going to tell me to leave, but I'm not soliciting."

She didn't like that.

"Yes, you are soliciting. You already told me you're trying to get a ride."

"No, I'm hoping to get a ride. If I was soliciting, I'd be holding up my thumb or a sign, or I'd be talking to people. But I'm not doing that; I'm just sitting here, and sitting here is not soliciting."

After a few rounds of disputing my claim, with me maintaining my stance, she got pretty pissed, I guess because some people just know they're right about everything, even when they are 100 percent wrong. (Or, most likely, it was a case of "You must respect my authoritah!)

Steaming, she turned around and stomped back to her cruiser. Sitting in the driver's seat, she kicked the inside of the door a few times to make it spring back and close. (I guess it's too difficult for some people to just pull the door shut.) Inside the car, she wrote up the citation. After giving me the citation, she continued throwing her fit, then sped off, simply because I dared challenge her authoritah.

And that's the only reason why she wrote up the ticket. It wasn't about me breaking the law (because I wasn't breaking ANY laws); it was about her authoritah and her fragile ego. She's one of those people who just wants to go out an bust people she deems unworthy of sharing this planet with her. And instead of taking the time to learn from someone who knows her job responsibilities better than she does, she felt compelled to show me who's boss by writing a bullshit ticket for something that never happened.

To support my point here, I've included a picture of the citation in this post. If you are able to zoom in close enough on the picture, you might take notice of my alleged offense: "Solicitation in Right Away." I guess that is similar to "Solicitation in right-of-way," but I think it's probably just the gibberish of an ignorant, power-mad cop who doesn't know how to do her job.

Although I'm supposed to be back in DeKalb County for court on October 27, I will not be there unless I just happen to be near Atlanta at the time. Instead, I plan to write a letter to the court, in an attempt to get this bullshit citation thrown out.

Here's one of my main arguments for having the citation thrown out: Since the officer doesn't even know the name of the law I allegedly broke, doesn't it kinda make sense that maybe she also doesn't know what the law means? There is a huge difference between the meanings of "right-of-way" and "right away." If the officer doesn't know the difference, there's a good chance she also doesn't know how to do her job.

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In the United States of America, when accused of committing any crime, the law says you are innocent until proven guilty. It's not "innocent until proven guilty (unless you don't show up for court when there is no evidence showing you did anything illegal)."

If I was doing anything illegal (however petty and victimless), I was loitering, not soliciting. But the police officer did not write me a citation for loitering; she wrote a citation for soliciting, which I simply was not doing. It's this simple: Hoping to get a ride is not solicitation, nor is it in any way illegal, even when you admit you were hoping to get a ride.

I'm not going to pay a fine for something I didn't do, even if the court refuses to throw out the citation. Living in a free country means not having to prove your innocence when bad cops make up new rules and cite you for breaking laws you didn't break. But we don't live in a free country anymore, and killing thousands and thousands of mostly-harmless brown people is not going to change that.

As Americans, our freedom is not threatened by foreigners. Our freedom is threatened by our own government and our complacency. You can keep letting them take away your freedom if you want, but I'm out here fighting for it, even if you can't figure out what I mean by that.

What puzzles me most about this episode is that the cop was a black woman. Why does that puzzle me? Partly because I usually get along very well with black women. Also, I would expect her, like most black Americans, to have a very strong sense of empathy for the little guy (or the underdog or the poor). But she was just a powermad bitch who's probably going to end up finding out the hard way that her badge doesn't mean shit.

If you're lucky, maybe I'll write about some of the other stuff that's happened recently. I probably won't, but it's some interesting stuff.

Now I'm in Mount Carmel, Tennessee, staying with my great aunt and uncle Allan and Ann for a few days. It's nice to get a break with some good people.

Happy birthday, Luke.


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What a waste?

These last five weeks have felt like a total waste. Anything that could have gone wrong has gone wrong. For example, I couldn't get to Minnesota, then I couldn't get to Indianapolis. Having wasted a week trying to get to those two places, my travel options became seriously limited because I ended up having to take any ride offer I received, just to get somewhere else. Then, thinking I already had a ride lined up, that ride ditched me after I'd wasted another two days not trying to get a ride. As a result, I've ended up stuck in Texas and Florida, which are the last two places I wanted to be, mostly because summer only lasts a few months throughout the rest of the country.

I've essentially spent most of the last five weeks sitting around in truck stops, bored out of my mind. By the time I make it to any of the places I can only go in summer, summer will be over and I'll be trying to get out of those places.

Now I'm basically trying to make my way back home, either for a short break or to quit doing this forever. (I still haven't decided if I'm going to continue, although I'm leaning toward more time on the road, and maybe even walking from LA to New York next year.) I've been stuck at a truck stop in Vero Beach, Florida since Friday because Norman (my current ride) hasn't been able to get a load out of here. We'll be leaving tomorrow morning, though, to pick up a load in Georgia and take it to Shreveport.

Looking at the bright side, I do have a lot of new stories to tell. Unfortunately it's been extremely boring and tiresome. Additionally, I've only walked 20 miles, which is normally less than two days' worth of walking (and sometimes less than one day). So even though I don't feel like I've eaten well, I probably weigh more than I did when I hit the road this time. That's a change. (Of course, I only weighed 140 or 145 when I left this time, which is about what I usually weigh when I return from several months on the road.)

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Here's Nathan

Just to prove we were in Louisiana, Nathan insisted on holding up a postcard from his home state. As I said before: If you're ever in the Mandeville Waffle House on a Friday or Saturday night, keep an eye out for this guy. Very cool dude.

Be safe out there, Nathan.

 


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Hey Nate

I also want to say hey to a very cool dude named Nathan. I met Nathan in the restaurant of the Lafayette, Louisiana TA truck stop [dump]. Hey Nathan!

If you're ever in Mandeville, LA on a Friday or Saturday night, stop by the Waffle House near the Causeway Bridge and look for Nathan. (I'll probably upload a pic of him whenever I get a better chance.)

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Some pics and stuff

I wrote most of this post when I was still at the Bosselman’s truck stop in Altoona, Iowa, but I couldn’t publish it until now because I haven’t had internet access. Even when I did have internet access, I could barely get anything done because every time I would try to write something, someone would start talking to me or distract me in some other way. With all the distractions, it takes a lot of work for me to write these posts. It keeps me from getting anything else done, too, so don’t expect many (or any) more blog posts, either from my laptop or my phone. Sorry, but that’s just how it has to be.



Pic 1: Tanya from Bosselman's fuel desk is freaking cool. In fact, everyone at Bosselman's is awesome. Unlike almost every other truck stop I've been to, even the management at Bosselman's did not have a problem with me trying to get a ride out of the place, as long as I didn't bother the drivers, which I never do. Even after ten days, they were still cool with me.

Bosselman's rules.

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Pic 2: Courtany (I think that's how she spells her name) from Bosselman's had an interesting story to tell. I don't think she would mind if I tell her whole story, but I'm not sure, so I should probably skip most of the details. At age 19, after a pretty messed-up childhood, including meth addiction, she has three kids (one of them is 6), yet she really seems to have her shit together.

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Pic 3: Ryan (left, age 33) and Josh (age 17).

Ryan dates Josh's mom. Along with another roommate, the three of them were moving from Binghamptom, New York to the San Francisco Bay Area. Mom and the roommate took Greyhound to the west coast, but Ryan and Josh hitchhiked.

On a Saturday the three of us met a trucker named Doug, who offered us a ride. Leaving from Altoona on Monday morning, Doug's next load was going to Medicine Hat, Alberta. From there he would be going to Seattle, then probably LA. On Sunday night we all watched The Stewie Griffin Story in his truck, then I got out to sleep in my normal spot because there really was only enough room for one person to sleep in the truck. Before I got out of the truck, Doug told me to be back by 6:00 the next morning, so I woke up at 5:30 and made it to the truck at 6:01.

Doug was going to drop off his three passengers somewhere in Montana before entering Canada (because none of us has a passport). After delivering and picking up in Medicine Hat, he would then pick us up again where he left us. Then we would continue merrily on to Seattle and California.

The next morning, though, there was a problem: When I walked out to the truck at 6:01, the truck was gone.

I had Ryan's phone number, so I called him to find out if they were still around, at the fuel islands or something. No answer.

That really pissed me off. Since I’d already had a ride lined up on Saturday with Doug, I spent the next two days chilling out, not trying to get a ride. And let me make this really clear: No one owes me a ride or money or anything. But ditching me like that was a really shitty thing to do, especially considering the circumstances. The least they could have done was call me or walk out to my tent to tell me I was no longer welcome along for the ride. I mean, is it really so hard to be honest with people?

Fortunately I found another ride by about 11:20 Monday morning with a dude named Steve. As I’ve said so many times already, I love Bosselman's, but ten days at one truck stop is ridiculous, so I was way past ready to leave.

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Pic 4: Steve and that dude who says 'fuck' a lot.

Steve (the long-haired dude in the pic) has some gear in his truck that allows him to make simple graphics (mostly text) for other people’s trucks. Whenever he has spare time at a truck stop, he uses his radio to offer his services to truckers who may be looking for some new graphics. Offering the graphics (and application of the graphics) at ridiculously cheap prices, he only makes enough money to cover the cost of materials, even when he has help from someone like me. Consequently, even though I spent several hours helping him with this hobby of his, I didn’t make a cent.

In the picture, you can see the graphics we did for some dude who says ‘fuck’ about every third word (“SPECIAL K TRUCKING INC”). He was cool, but damn he says ‘fuck’ a lot.

After I took this picture, we ended up making a couple more graphics to put just below the windows on each door of the truck. For the driver-side door we made a graphic that said ‘Triple Threat,’ which is the dude’s handle. For the passenger-side door we made one that said ‘Keebler,’ which is the driver’s girlfriend’s handle. (She was not riding with him at the time.)

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