2003-09-23

Hi again! If you hadn't noticed, I am traveling around the US and writing about it. I am looking for nice, fun people who can put me up for a few nights and feed me and pay my way (since I am broke) and show me a good time (since I like good times). If you think it might be fun to host me for a day or two or three, email me at justingrace AT mac DOT com with your info and address and phone number. I am especially looking for places to stay in the southern USA. I will be traveling all over, but here are the places I will be in the next few weeks that I am still looking for a place to stay at:

� Texas: Between Las Cruces, NM and Austin TX
� Texas: Between Austin, TX and Louisiana
� Mississippi
� Alabama
� Tennessee
� North/South Carolina

Thanks in advance for your help! And now...

US Tour Day 7: My Life In LA

I slept as much as I could to replenish the energy lost in the last night's festivities. I think I went to bed at seven or eight in the morning. I don't remember. I was obliterated.

I didn't do much fun stuff today, as I felt too terrible. I figured that my life–hangover was a great opportunity to take care of some practical things, some chores. I bought new headlights for my car, got some keys made, and tried to find a post office that the internet said existed but my eyes couldn't find.

I left a few things in Glenn's car the night before, so I drove across town to meet up with him and reunite me with my wayward possessions—some buttons, a jacket, my white bag. I sat with Glenn and Jessika at the huge wooden table and we went over our versions of the last evening's events to see if any of us had facts to help fill in the holes. I couldn't stay for long since my car was parked in a meter with only an hour left in it. I only paid for an hour on purpose, knowing that the threat of a ticket would be a sort of alarm clock coinciding with that moment when I would start itching to be alone and need a reason to leave. I always hate goodbyes and leaving, so I find subtle, secret ways to make it easier for myself sometimes.

It felt great to sit and see the eyes of Glenn and Jessika, but I needed to be alone after the last few days and especially after last night. I was cracked out, eyes awkwardly held open as if I had somehow lived a life of Saturdays in one week—what had I done to deserve the honor of this miracle of time compression technology? I want to know so that next time I can make sure to sleep more beforehand.

I drove back to Theory Labs, picking up a horrible $5 large pepperoni pizza on the way. I always wondered if the luckless guy standing on the side of the road waving a sign ever actually generated any business for whatever evil company that forced him into such a degrading position. And, based on the fact that I saw his waving sign and stopped to trade five not–earned dollars for one not–delicious pizza was my answer.

I sat and wrote for most of the day, powering through on the little nutrition the terrible pizza provided. Soon it was night. Tim bought me Indian food and brought it back to the Labs. I ate it on a folding table in the big, open area, surrounded by neon light sculptures and couches and the sorts of things you put in your cool artist warehouse if you happen to have a cool artist warehouse.

As I ate the most delicious eggplant I had tasted in my life on the most gooey cheese–impregnated naan in the galaxy I brought Tim up to speed on my last few days. I hadn't seen him much since my arrival to the Labs, as he and I were both busy and only tended to bump into one another in passing.

As I told him about my adventures I observed that he never seems surprised by the debauchery I get myself and all those around me into. With an outside perspective on my life he was able to more clearly observe my patterns and behaviors. His reactions—or lack thereof—to my tales probably speaks volumes about how I actually am. For example, I might think that something I do is exciting or new for me, but to someone who knows me well it may seem predictable or ordinary when considering the sort of person they perceive me to be.

Which makes me wonder, how can I start to do things which are outside of my own personal status quo, things which challenge my natural patterns? I believe that this discovery will be the theme of my travels.

Night had already fallen, serving as a huge celestial hint that it was time for me to fall as well. And I fell into bed.


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