"The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!" -Jack Kerouac

Friday, October 31, 2008

part__xv_fifteen

Halloween '08

It is October 31st here in the Green RV. I have nothing orange to wear. So to offset my physical celebration of this glorious day, I'm saying thank to Satan for being born today 2000 years ago ever hour on the hour. 

Okay, that's not true, but seriously, today is Satan's birthday. I'm just saying, it tells me a lot about you if tonight you are doing any of the selective things people who love Satan do on this day:

I. Wearing either orange or black. And yes, suburban mothers, this even includes your cutie jack-o-lantern earrings, and your festive candy corn broaches. 

II. Eating candy. Look out especially for Smarties, Tootsie Pops, and any mini chocolate bar that upon eying, your mom would instantly ask for, i.e. mini Snickers, mini Almond Joy, mini 100 Grand , etc. saying "Oh, you don't like those right?"

III. Trick or Treating (this is a big one). In making up a pros and cons list for Trick or Treating, I discovered there are thousands of cons, and only one pro. 
Cons including: the myriads of razor blades thousands of people across the country place inside their Halloween candy. Poison should be addressed as well; a very likely scenario. Not to mention, that Trick or Treating is practically a front-door- delivered-all-you-can-offend buffet for sexual offenders everywhere. And if pillow cases aren't an innuendo, I don't know what is. 

Pro: walking is good exercise for our nation of increasingly obese children. (however, this is often offset by the amount of trash consumed this night)

III. clause A) It should be noted that any and all Fall Festivals, Harvest Parties, and/or Autumn Celebrations, taking place at churches all across the country, are a perfectly suitable substitute for the otherwise pagan ritual of Trick or Treating. 

IV. Halloween Parties. Now this is two fold, because it not only includes your usual debaucherous party activities, but the fact that costumes are often required creates a whole new segue for evil to participate. I can think of few more scenarios pleasing to the Prince of the World than a roomful of young men and women pretending to be someone else in hopes that they can forget how pathetic they themselves are. Girls, using the event to dress like a whore without the consequences of actually being one, including often a form of captivity, or financial crisis. I think this began when the female species realized that putting "dirty" in front of anything while choosing a costume is a winner. Men, taking the chance to come up with the most clever, politically sensitive, ironic, or socially relevant costume possible in order to woo said whores also attending the party. Ugh!

I hope my words have been convicting and sufficiently condescending, as my only hopes for you are that you being such a sinner, and celebrating such a horrid holiday that stands for everything liberal and socialist about our country. 



On Another Note:
I voted today, from a freaking RV on the road from Nebraska to Colorado. But seriously, you should vote too.


Tuesday, October 21, 2008

part__xiv_fourteen

Apropos

I thought it very apropos
To write about this word, which you simply must know
In hopes, that in time, on you, it will grow
So that from your mouth it might flow
Constantly, constantly, to friend or to foe
Giving and taking, like quid pro quo

Upon meeting you I might say "hello"
Then you'll know, it just goes to show
How one might best bestow what is truly apropos

Like how Robin Hood carries only a bow
How if your Italian, you can probably throw dough
Or if you like to read, you'd know both Emerson and Thoreau
Or if your born an eskimo, your m.o. is definitely snow
How if care for wine, you might try a Bordeaux
Or if you've only one ear, you might be Van Gogh
Or if no name, they might call you John Doe
Or if you liked Waiting for Guffman, you'd love Best in Show
Who really knows what Palin means by joe-six-pack though?

All I want to do is plant a seed that will someday sow
That we might live in a world free of woe
Free of confusion and free of just status quo
That we might know, from head to toe
What it is, that is so apropos

Sunday, October 19, 2008

part__xiii_thirteen

Let me paint a picture for you right now. I am in the RV. Fully dressed, and laying in bed (which is a pull out couch). The other three are all sleeping in the back beds. It's 11:35am. I got up at 8:00am. I've, so far, spent an hour at Second Cup– oh, I didn't tell you? I'm in Montréal...Canada, that is–and an hour walking around taking pictures. And they are still sleeping. I cannot. So, naturally, I got out my computer to see if I could pick up anyones wi-fi. I can. And I am. Thank you "mary_net". 

Montréal. It thirty minutes north of the border. Literally, a three hour drive from Vermont, where we were Friday. And, yet, they speak a different language. They exchange different currency. And it seems overwhelmingly European. I mean, obviously, it's another country, but it's just kind of amazing nonetheless. We spent yesterday getting to know the city, and went dancing last night. Lots of fun was had. However, it's important I tell you of the beginnings of our journey to Canada. Starting before we crossed the border.


So in Vermont, our contact, who was possibly one of the sweetest women I've ever met, told us we simply must go to Montréal. When are we going to be three hours from such an amazing city again? was her reasoning. Judith didn't need to say another word. We were sold. After the event at Castleton, we left and headed for the border. 

Our phones signals began to fade as we inched closer to customs. Scott pulled off at a gas station, what I would learn after the fact, was a few minutes from the border. We went to the bathroom and got gas. Then Scott nonchalantly asks if I wanna drive. I say, sure, thinking he just is tired of driving, and I it just feels like my turn was up soon anyways. After we get back on the road. I ask how much further to the border. This is when Scott lets me know it's like two minutes away. What a cheeky slag. Now you have to understand what we're trying to do now. We are trying to get a 36-foot RV filled with not only our stuff, but all the materials and what not the company we work for has given us. After all, it is their RV. As we pull up to customs, I start getting real nervous knowing I'm going to be the one getting grilled. We hand the agent our passports and appropriate papers. And then the questions started. Why are you crossing? How are you all related? Do you have any alcohol on the RV? Any tobacco? Any firearms? Put a dollar value on your belongings?! And on and on they went. Each one of them, me answering with a little less confidence than the one before. Saying things like, "We're going on holiday," and "No we don't have any tobacco, unless my cigarettes count?" or "No we don't have any alcohol on the RV. Wait, yes we do. Like 7 beers, in our refridgerator, does that count?" After this barrage of questions he ushers us forward and tells us to park for round two. The search. 

At the next station, we are met by not one, not two, not even three, but four agents ready to search our vehicle. The asked us to step out and we did. Not a warm process. They asked us about our criminal records. Lets just say Canadian customs was a funny place for confession. They immediately ask us if our fridge is broken (which it most definitely is, hence the potent, potent oder). We tell them it is, and that we aren't growing anything intentionally. Next we have to go into the building, which was a nice break from the 29 degree night, and we had to sit and wait while they checked our backgrounds. Luckily to help pass the time I brought my harmonica in. All the while we sat wondering if this debacle of a plan was actually going to pan out.

It did, we crossed and I proceeded to follow any and every sign that had the word Montréal on it. And were ushered in to the city by Ludacris singing "Pimpin' all over the world". Immediately after arriving, however, we realized that we had spent about three minutes thinking this decision, and it may lead to disaster, or it may lead to glory. And glory it was. We made it, and after about an hour of driving around and some awkward "we're not from here" conversations, we found a parking place. We didn't pay the meter, and yet we haven't got a ticket. My theory is that they simply don't know what to do with this monstrosity of a vehicle.  And our weekend has been so good. I couldn't be happier about our decision to come to this foreign country. Thank you Montréal.

Thursday, October 16, 2008

part__xii_twelve

BOSTON. MAINE. NEW HAMPSHIRE.

That's where I've been the last three days. And we're on our way to Vermont tonight. 

A quick recap of the last three days in bullet format:
  • All girls school in Boston. 
  • Ordering pizza to our RV
  • Sketchy Asian food in Chinatown Boston
  • A kid freestyle rapped about me on the street calling me, "the crack-head version of Where is Waldo."
  • Had a laugh about that one.
  • Got treated like kings and queens in Maine
  • Ate a freaking huge lobster in none other than Maine itself
  • Realized I am running out of money
  • Got sad about that
  • Didn't shower for days
  • Drove us into Portsmouth, NH
  • Walked around Portsmouth for point two seconds
  • Slept in Wal-Mart parking lot (the closest I'll come to supporting them ever)
  • Drank unprecedented amounts of coffee
  • Drinking my fourth cup today right now
  • Feeling extremely shaky now
  • Saw the most neon colored trees I've ever seen in my life
  • Got a shower today
  • It was the greatest thing I've ever experienced in my entire life, ever
  • Getting real tired now
  • Gonna get something to eat and drive to Vermont real quick
  • No big deal

Monday, October 6, 2008

part__xi_eleven

"Keep Austin Weird"

A sort of mantra you can hear chanted through every structure, every crack, and every nook in this city. The phrase seems as a living rhythm imbibed by every step the locals take. Austin seems like a bizarre hybrid of urbanization, and organic naturalism. The kind of city that has enough city for the urbanites, and enough unaltered land for the hippies (which are abundant). It's the kind of place you need to know about if you're ever thinking about aimlessly wandering the country. Austin is the place you pass through, either intentionally or not, and though you intend merely pass through, you stay for years starting businesses and families alike. I mean that all in the best way possible, as this kind of attitude has fostered a kind of creativity and community that you can just feel in this town. It's the kind of hippie, free-love, all inclusive community that you can hardly help but love every bit of. 

We rolled into Austin approximately 1,300 miles, three states, and 25 hours later from when we left Orange County Friday night. The drive was taxing and long, but having four people and a decently comfortable place to sleep helps tremendously. Saturday night we walked around downtown for a little looking for a drug store so we could get Heather some medicine for her worsening allergies that appropriately started the minute we left California. The streets were alive and bustling in that way only a city can do on a Saturday night. The clubs were screaming their incessant house beats, or in most cases, their incessant twang. After all, we are in Texas. After failing our mission to find an open drug store, we looked one up on my phone that was just a couple miles away. The Walgreens we arrived at is where we spent our first night in Austin. They were gracious enough to let us crash in six or seven of their parking spots along side the store. 

We were all so exhausted that nothing could've kept us from sleeping like Rip VanWinkle that night. Not even the four foot couch I spent the night on deterred me from getting a full nights sleep. However, it did deter my neck from feeling awesome in the morning. We used the Walgreens restroom to wash our faces and brush our teeth, and went on our way. The first order of business was to head to a Home Depot so we could finally fix the hole in our ceiling. Scott had attempted to fix it before we left with a piece of cardboard left over from an old wine box and some duct tape. Sadly, however, we were told to fix it properly with some plexiglass and caulk. We were looking forward to this project because even with all of our handiness combined, we seem to only have enough ability to match that of one hand. And the longer we worked on this project the more it became clear that this hand did not even have opposable thumbs. Two or so hours later we had successfully given our first run at fixing our roof. In the meantime, however, we met several strangers intrigued by our giant green RV. One, of whom, was a guy named David Ansel. He has lived in the city about ten years, and has had some fairly remarkable success here. Years ago, David started a small folk/grassroots company called The Soup Peddler. Where he literally peddles soup for a living, riding his bike around Austin delivering soup. This was a crazy instance mostly because we had heard of David even before we got to Austin as someone we would be privileged to meet while here. And, as the fates had it, he found us. Inadvertently, he became our pseudo-guide to the city, telling us places we can't miss, and some joints we just must check out before leaving. 

The number one thing on this list was a place called Barton Springs. Famous for its constant 65 degree temperature and haven for dissidents. This was marked by the dozens laying out enjoying the day. Whether the high school teacher sitting on top of the hill ogling, what are most likely, his students, or the topless woman spinning a hula-hoop around her neck, you instantly were aware of the kind of ethos this place promoted. It was a place that helped explain a lot of questions you may have had about Austin prior to just seeing it for yourself. It was the evidence every seemingly fictional place needs to legitimize it. The water was cold and unbelievably refreshing. We could only imagine what kind of luxury this place would be in the dead of summer, when the temperatures are consistently in the triple digits. 

Next we made our way back downtown and visited what was said to be "the best movie theater in the world" called the Alamo Drafthouse Cinema. Here we saw the new Bill Maher movie "Religulous" and I had a beer. Definitely an enjoyable experience. After that, being both tired and non-natives, we wandered the city for a while looking for somewhere to eat. Once we did we were too tired to do anything else and headed to Scott's friends place, where we were staying the night. 

This morning, we got a shower in, which was past due for all of us, and headed to meet up with David for breakfast and a hopeful interview to get his story, and maybe some insights into life and the battle fought for what you love. Breakfast at The Boudin Creek Cafe was delicious, as was the conversation with David. His story is definitely an unlikely one, and an encouragement to follow our passions and not quit until you're doing what you love. And now here I am at Starbucks, waiting for the friend, whose place I'm spending the night at, to get off work. It's been hours, and I most certainly have several ahead of me. The team has moved on toward Dallas and then to Nashville from there. I am left behind because tomorrow I fly to Denver for what could easily be described as the wedding of the century. Though I'm bummed to miss out on the next leg of the trip, I could not be more excited to help usher in what could be the biggest and most important decision of my best friend's life. 

My time with Austin is nearly over, and as the heavy folk lyrics of Conor Oberst echo in my headphones, I am assured that I will be nostalgic when I think of Austin. It certainly was nothing like I could've imagined it to be. I mean, I have fairly purposefully lived my entire life attempting to disassociate myself with anything or anyone that had anything to do with Texas. But after my experience here in Austin, I'm convinced that this is the only redeeming quality about what would otherwise be an entirely god-forsaken state. Austin has officially won me over, and convinced me that against my best judgement, Texas is not something America should've given up on hundreds of years ago. Well maybe it still is, but, without a doubt, Austin is a hell of a good time, full of people to glean wisdom from, people to watch in amazement and confusion, and full of an attitude that contains less judgement, and more acceptance as a standard for living. All together a place I would recommend to all. 

Wednesday, October 1, 2008

part__x_ten

Monday, we started our events for Roadtrip Nation. Our first event was at Cal State Fullerton. We drove our huge RV up onto the student quad and set up some easy-up tents, some tables, and commenced the day of spreading the good news about Roadtrip Nation. Tuesday we were at The University of San Diego. We did the same thing, simply trying to make students aware of the amazing opportunities that we provide for them. And tomorrow we will be at UC Irvine. There are so many colleges in California it seems, maybe cause the state is so damn big. The events are definitely tiring, being in the sun all day, on your feet, interacting with students all day. But it is so worth it. Luckily I am obsessed with people, and thoroughly enjoy having conversations with new people from different places. Some of these campus events include classroom presentations and film screenings, which are always an interesting experience. 

On Friday evening we will be embarking on the journey, officially hitting the road. Our first stop is Austin, which is just a meager 1,300 miles. The trip will take a couple days, no doubt, but should be a barrel of fun. 

Can't wait to start updating from state to state. 

part__ix_nine

WEST COAST PHENOMENON (a new series of interesting insights into West Coast culture)

Can we just talk about a West Coast phenomenon right now?

Since being out on the West Coast there has definitely been a bit of a learning curve as far as adjusting to the West Coast culture. It's almost unexplainable, and I've been trying to think of specific examples, but there is simply an underlying realm of the world that I simply know very little about because I didn't grow up on the West Coast. 

Todays topic of interest: FISH TACOS
Shortly after arriving in Orange County, I began noticing several Mexican food places (obviously) several of which specialize in fish tacos. Each time I passed these establishments, and read the words "fish taco" I got a weird feeling inside and was uneasy the rest of the day. Not even in my wildest of dreams and most imaginative of imaginations could I have placed a fish inside a taco. Nor would I have thought that a fish would ever desire to be inside a taco. Over and over, this affliction plagued me, until one fateful Thursday. Not just any ol' Thursday though, $1 Fish Taco Thursdays. It happened, we went to lunch at Taco Mesa and I had, count em, not one, not two, but three fish tacos. I just manned up and looked my fear in the eyes and put down those three fish tacos so hard. 

Lo and behold, they were not bad, in fact, they were good. Needless to say, I rest a lot easier living in the OC now. And every time I pass a fish taco joint, I don't feel so weird. I just look at myself and remember, that if a fish never wanted to be in a taco in the first place, then it never would have been assumed that they were not something I, too, wanted.