Snow foot

Presto

See, it wasn't just smoke and mirrors. This is from yesterday (Tuesday), shortly after I began the descent to Jerome. I topped out at 7,023 feet, only a few minutes after I estimated that I was at about 7,000 feet.

No longer riding

I'm just sitting here watching the wheels go round and round.

Spooky

From left: Sonya, me, Tobin, and Jennifer (the waitresses and bartender at the Haunted Hamburger). I probably misspelled everyone's name there, but these folks rock. I pulled into Jerome a little before 8:00 last night, completely exhausted and wobbly, just hoping there was someplace open to eat. The first place I found was the Haunted Hamburger, and it was the right place. Along with the restaurant's staff, I also talked extensively with a couple from Phoenix, who were sitting a few seats over from me at the bar. These people were all so cool. I really enjoyed talking to all of them. If you're ever in Jerome, you have to eat there. Not just because they're cool as hell, but also because they serve some damn good food. --> Today, near Clarkdale, a stunningly gorgeous girl stopped to offer me a ride. As with everyone who offers me a ride, I had to decline, but I really wanted to accept
this offer. We talked for a few minutes, then I thanked her and we each headed on down the road. D'OH!

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Higher and higher

Yes, I am WAAAY above the snow line right now... in sandals. The most recent elevation sign said I was at 6,000 feet, but I've climbed a long way since then, so I'm guessing I'm probably at about 7,000 feet in this pic. Still going up, too.

See ya down in Arizona Bay

These mountains are bigger than they look here. I have to go up and over them today, then make it back down before it gets too cold up there. (And it will get very cold once the sun goes down.) On the other side is Jerome. Everyone says Jerome is absolutely beautiful. One local resident also told me Maynard from Tool lives there, which makes sense because he thinks California is going to fall off into the ocean. (He really should have taken Geology 101 before writing those ridiculous lyrics.) --> The 'tears' remark in the previous post was in reference to a show I watched Sunday night called Undercover Boss or something. I sure hope they didn't just edit that show to make the CEO look more caring than he really is. Believe me: When you have as much footage as they had before they edited that show, you can manipulate the story to make it say anything you want it to say. However, I felt
like everything that happened on the show was pretty genuine. I hope so.

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I like when people move

I like when people move me to tears.

Idiocracy

If you can't figure out what's wrong with this country by reading this flier, please don't have kids.

Prescott

Yesterday I began near Wilhoit and climbed at least half a mile through some mountains, reaching about 6300 feet before descending 1000 feet to Prescott. At 5:00, after busting ass for 19+ miles, I found a restaurant where I could watch the Buckeyes lose. A few miles up the road, still in Prescott, I ate at In-N-Out and slept in the cold mile-high night. Today I decided I'd finally take a day off, so I did some fund-raising and walked down to a cheap motel I passed last night. I paid $34 for a dump of a room, but I kinda like it. The motel is really old and I can picture William Burroughs sitting here on the bed with a needle in his arm, his eyes struggling to stay open and his body slumping over as he drifts off into junkie bliss. I think I'll make a weekend of it and stay here again tomorrow night because my body really needs the rest. At this altitude, I think I have a lot of cold
nights ahead of me. It's probably good that I didn't start 2 weeks earlier, as I'd originally planned.

Altitude

As you can see, I'm really high right now.

I just ran into George Throop again, about six miles southeast(?) of Wickenburg. He's going toward Phoenix, while I'm going the other way. Total surprise to see him because we have not communicated at all since we met on February 14, and because I thought he was going to stick near I-10, which is 40 or 50 miles south of here. He ended up walking along US 60, though, which is the road I'm on right now. Crazy.

Chair

Sometimes you just have to take your next break a little bit ahead of schedule.

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Goodbye Phoenix

Someone please tell me what a "Family Car Wash" is. --> Now that I'm out of metro Phoenix, I'm shocked to say I'll miss that town a little. Having met a lot of good/cool people there, my opinion of Phoenix has changed dramatically. Wish I'd heard from Eric, though. --> I'm currently somewhere between Surprise and Wickenburg. I'll likely head through Prescott, Sedona, and Flagstaff on my way to the Grand Canyon, which I should reach in maybe ten days or so. --> I figured I'd be a machine by now, but I'm not. I still hurt all the time, and it's still tough to do 20 miles a day. (I'm averaging closer to 19 now. Of course, I've probably walked considerably more miles than my pedometer shows because my pedometer sucks. In fact, every pedometer sucks. I really wish someone would make a pedometer that doesn't suck.) I guess I've just pushed myself so hard, my body hasn't had a chance to
recover and strengthen. The mostly Ramen/oatmeal diet surely hasn't helped much, either. I need a break!

Sports

After a pretty rough day, some girls from a high school lacrosse team just made my night at In-N-Out Burger in Paradise Valley. As I was getting up to leave, one of them asked me what I was doing with the backpack. I ended up talking to them and answering questions for the next 15 or 30 minutes. When one of them asked me how I get money, I showed them my signs. As a result, I ended up with a handful of bills and change, which I have not counted yet. These girls and their guy friends really made me feel special and important, and that's a nice feeling. Thanks, ladies. This encounter was a very cool and memorable experience for me. (I already forgot the name of their school. Maybe one of them will see this and mention the school's name in a comment.)

REI just lost one of

REI just lost one of its best and most loyal customers.

OK, I got my license

OK, I got my license back. Echeverry is actually the one who treated me respectfully, so I'll edit that other post when I get a chance.

Pic: The coolest town in Arizona. O-H... --> The people of west suburban Phoenix have been very friendly so far, stopping to offer rides and stuff. It's going to take a lot more gestures of kindness to make up for some of the bullshit I've dealt with, though. --> Eric, if you're going to call, you need to call NOW because I'm in Goodyear. If you've e-mailed me or anything like that, I haven't seen it because I don't have internet access. I hope to hear from you.

Fire

Here's that fire.

Arizona is for losers

This cactus and I feel the same about Arizona. --> Two nights ago, after walking 20 miles out of Gila Bend (through absolutely desolate desert), I found a great spot to sleep. I set up my tent and whatnot, but I also started my very first campfire. I thought I was in a good, invisible setting, but shortly a couple Maricopa County Sheriff's deputies showed up. One was mostly all right (Deputy Echeverry, or something like that), but the other one was an abusive prick. Long story short: They forced me to pack up and ride with them 20 miles back to Gila Bend. Then, and I didn't realize this until they were gone, Fuckface kept/stole my drivers' license. This was no accident. The guy has the personality of a serial killer, and keeping his victims' possessions gives him a hard-on. It's that simple. So when I get to the station tomorrow, I'm going to file a complaint (and a
theft charge if my license isn't there waiting for me). He's probably jerking off to it right now.

Sign Interpretation 101

This means you have to drive like a fucking retard for the next 9 miles.

Gila Bend, AZ. No, I haven't seen a Shaqtus yet.

UFO over Phoenix?

Anyone remember the shows about the "UFO over Phoenix" maybe ten years ago? Even though the show's producers tried to present the lights as something really mysterious by ignoring the real evidence and instead focusing on the interpretations of crackpots, I was pretty satisfied with the explanation (and evidence) that said the lights were flares. Now having seen them for myself, I can tell you the lights in these pictures are most certainly flares. Yeah, I was in awe when I first saw them, but after a while it was pretty clear what was going on. You probably can't tell from the picture, but these things are VERY bright. They're so bright, you can sometimes see the trail of smoke above each flare as it slowly falls toward Earth. Oh, and the fighter jets... This was about 100 miles SW of Phoenix on an Air Force range near Mexico. --> I should be in Phoenix's west suburbs tomorrow night.
So Eric, call me very soon if you intend to meet up with me. --> Does March Madness start this week?

Cattle guards

These things scare the shit out of me, especially when my pack is heavy. (It's almost always heavy.) When you're carrying a lot of weight, your steps rarely hit their target. As you can see, there's not much room for error on these things. So every time I set a foot down on one of them, there's a chance I might break a leg or something. And yes, I've had to walk over a lot of these lately, even though I haven't seen a cow in days.

Booty

Nature provides. --> Thanks, Aunt Lisa and Uncle Paul. I sincerely appreciate your help. --> Phoenix ETA: Sunday.

Vulnerable

Apparently no one is willing to help me get any of the things I desperately need right now, like new footwear, a good headlamp, and a reflective vest. That's OK, though. It just lets me know I really am alone out here. Not having these things might get me seriously injured or killed, but at least I know where we all stand.

Did you know Yuma is

Did you know Yuma is actually supposed to be pronounced 'Yummay'?

18 days and 362.5 miles

18 days and 362.5 miles from the Santa Monica Pier to the Arizona state line above the Colorado River in Yuma.

Today: A day of rest and fundraising in Yuma

Waking up 22 miles from the Arizona state line yesterday, I knew I had to bust ass and take very few breaks to make it to the sign before darkness (to get a visible pic). So wouldn't it figure that some CHP asshole had to stop me not once but twice to hassle me and tell me I'm not allowed to walk along the ONLY FUCKING ROAD. Instead, I was supposed to walk over giant sand dunes and wide irrigation canals with no bridges. Essentially this dude negated all my break time by making me stand around and listen to him with my pack on. You probably haven't thought about this, but every minute I stand around carrying my pack is a minute I'm neither resting nor moving. It adds up quick, as do the extra miles. So I ended up having to walk 23 or 24 miles, with almost no rest, to make it to the state line in time for a pic. (If you haven't done this, you don't know what pain is.) Much more to it
than that. --> Thanks to whoever contacted John Sears for me. --> Need your help getting some gear...

If I don't get a

If I don't get a really good headlamp, I'm gonna end up seriously injured. If you'd like to help, call me so I can let you know how. Thanks.

Yuma

So much to say... later.

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Dunes

If I don't get a

If I don't get a really good headlamp, I'm gonna end up seriously injured. If you'd like to help, call me so I can let you know how. Thanks.

27 miles today; 72 the

27 miles today; 72 the last 3 days; 300 the last 15 days. South of El Centro. Finally averaging 20 miles/day. Yes, I hurt like hell all the time.

If I don't get a

If I don't get a really good headlamp, I'm gonna end up seriously injured. If you'd like to help, call me so I can let you know how. Thanks.

Some dude on a bike

Some dude on a bike just told me God loves me. Is that why my ass hurts?

Evil desert

Pic: Chaco feet. Jealous, huh, winter-bound, pale-ass Ohio honkeys? --> My god, yesterday was a bitch. Rain. Sun. Rain. Wind. Wind. Wind. I got off to a great start, with 10 miles before noon, but the weather took its toll, along with the absence of anywhere comfortable to sit. The wind kept me from cooking. I wasted an hour of energy just trying to set up my tent as a windshield... unsuccessfully. In fact, I almost lost the tent a few times. Bent the poles a little more, too. So much more hellish than I can describe here. Was shooting for 30 miles yesterday, and I could've done it with semi-decent weather. Instead I stopped at 8:00 beside a huge stack of hay, which shielded me from the wind and saved me from even more misery. Still did 22.5 miles, though. Slept about a mile short of Westmorland. --> Would someone please contact John Sears at Gregory Mountain Products and ask him to
call me? I have feedback and questions for him, but I don't have his number handy. Thanks!

So I walk into a

So I walk into a truck stop after a smokin' 20 miles, and what's on the TV but Forrest Gump. Ever feel like everything is as it should be?

Desert

I think this means I'll be in the middle of nowhere in a few minutes. It also means I'll be in Arizona in about five days. --> Brad, will you make sure Eric Eves sees this? If you can, also let him know I'll be in Phoenix in two weeks or less and that he should call me. Thanks.

Coachella. Left takes me east

Coachella. Left takes me east of the Salton Sea; right goes west. I'm going right. Lots of water and ramen noodles makes for one heavy-ass pack.

Sbarro's prices have gone up

Sbarro's prices have gone up while their pizza has shrunk by at least 2". You were already overpriced, Sbarro. Guess where I'll NEVER eat again.

Palm Springs to pedestrians: If

Palm Springs to pedestrians: If you want to be able to see where you're walking or if you want a sidewalk, fuck you! Go buy a car.

Machine/badass

Last Thursday, after walking for hours without a break, I realized I'm about 82% machine. Later, though, when I weighed my gear on a scale at REI, I became aware that I'm 100% badass. Thinking I was carrying a little over 40 lbs at the time, I was actually carrying 51.5 lbs. But that doesn't make me a badass. Here's what makes me a badass: For the first couple days of this new adventure, I was carrying an additional 2+ gallons of water. That's 17 or 18 lbs right there, and it means my gear weighed 68 or 69 lbs when my water bladders were full. That's HALF AS MUCH AS I WEIGH, and that number's gonna go up in a few days when I'll need to stock up on water and food to make it across the desert. But here's what really makes me a badass: I don't fear the desert. This'll be easy. --> I have always raved about REI, but they've really pissed me off lately because they won't remove my Gregory
review, which I've asked them to remove twice. So now I'm gonna trade in my beat-up tent for a new one.

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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Aimless
Aimless Video Evidence

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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Aimless
Aimless Video Evidence

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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Aimless
Aimless Video Evidence

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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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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Aimless
Aimless Video Evidence

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.