proof

7th Circle of Somewhere Hot

Having now spent a week in the belly of the beast, I find it's not so bad in here. No worse than Phoenix I'd say. I am of course refering to LA, that legendary home for all that is weird, liberal, polluted, stoned, misguided or currupt, according to the teachings of my youth. Not that those teachings were too far off... I've seen some weird shit here. But maybe my tolerance threshold for weird shit has increased over the years.

So what have I been doing in the almost exactly one week I've been here?
I took a long bike ride down the coast, along the beach.
I solved the rubix cube for the first time, in 28 minutes (after futsing about with it for a week).
I applied for work at 4 different used book stores.
I went to a bar to listen to some stand-up comedy with Risa, where her bike was stolen.
I nearly bought a sailboat.
and...
I registered with a casting company to be an extra on movies, commercials, and tv shows.
And so much more.

What will next week bring?

Echos of an empty house

You can hear a mouse fart in the kithen from the back bedrooms. These new wood floors, combined with an utter lack of furniture or decorations to absorb the sound make the house echo like never before. That and the voices of memories of so many people these last 5 years. When the finality hits people that the house and I are going, they feel as obliged to say good by to the house as to me. I don't mind, we had good times, and a whole lotta people stayed under this roof, and I am glad of that. But while I am as aware of this past as much as any one (and more so than most) I am not teary eyed to go. My relationship with the place has changed as I've tried to sell it (I've put more work into it planning to not live in it than I ever did before) and I'm kinda done with it. Over it. Ready to go. In my mind, once I made up my mind to go, I was already gone. All that's left is the details. Well now many of them are settled, and all I own is either in storage in Nebraska or loaded into the back of my truck, and in the morning I hit the road. No, the house isn't sold yet, but I'll give it a couple more weeks yet. Then come back for a weekend to sign papers giving control to someone other than me. And then I'm gone for good. So how about a highlight reel, for those readers who were there for some of the aformentioned good times:

The going away party for Mattie and I, goose slaughter, rabbitt bbq, good time.

Halloween party where I was spinning fire poi and lit myself on fire.

Ice luge party.

Matt Shaw's drinking pants and claim to beat Duck Hunt.

The Fire.

The last party with the original roomates, Me, Mel, Nic and Nick, toasting in the kitchen.

Elliot making fire in the lving room with a bow drill.

Baking bread all winter to stay warm.

Hanging in the kitchen.

Coming home to find the floor covered in newspaper, like a hamsters cage.

Garage sales, loading up the neighborhood kids with junk for nickels.

Open doors, no keys, and a welcome place for the dozens, neigh hundreds, of random and less than random people who stayed for one night, or 5 years.

Thanks for the memories.