January 11, 2004
My Kingdom for a digital signal
 Seems strange that the first person to ever inform me of the blog phenom is asleep right now in the master suite of our RV tonight while I apply my talent to my own personal vesion of the concept. I showed Jan the Blog tonight, as if for the first time, (I'm not sure, was it? M'God, really.)
I invited her to read it on a regular basis and she said she would. Now I find the bar a little higher than it was before. Blogging is definately easier when you think no one is watching- kinda like dancing.
Now I have to be poignant AND witty to entities other than my own self. Oh well, I guess it serves a higher purpose (as if that was my goal here).
we've been traveling all day today thru redwood forests and had very little incident of a digital signal. I cannot upload to the internet and check my email if our signal is analog.
if any of my interested followers are feeling a little impatient for the latest disspatch (or both of you for that matter) your concens cannot match my own, and I assure you that as soon as I have it, you'll have it. Meaning, whenever I get within faxing distance of civilization I will have the latest uploaded for your perousel.
Back to the journey at hand.
If you enter a dispatch of a blog, and find yourself confused and lost, look down to the bottom of the page. Blogs work their way up chronologically, so you'll find the start of the story at the bottom of the page, that way the newest stuff is always on top. This concept sucks for the new guy, but works great for the true regular, and we all want to think of ourselves as true regulars, right?The Pacific Northwest is beautiful, let's just get that out of the way. It seems every state, once you get past the metro areas, has a pretty side. Like the facial flesh under the heavy beard of a middle aged man. Untouched, soft, fresh, new.
Northern California is logging towns, houses made from a single tree, and gift shops merchandising on the legend of bigfoot. Seems everywhere I go I see whole communities that evolve around philosophies stated in the single image of a ¢.35 postcard. Klamath River is no different than any other town within a mile of route 66. Where there's a gimmick, there's a gift shop.
Moving right along
 Who's the bigger idiot? Is it the guy who's luck is so bad he get's whatever car he's leased, rented or borrowed banged up, as if he's walking around with a target sign on his head? Or is it the Moron who leased or lended the car to this guy?
I lent my van to Joe and it came back with damage. Can I get mad at Joe? I don't think so. As the old parable states " . . . You knew I was a snake when you picked me up!"
On the road again
My cousin Jan and I both share this overwhelming addiction to the road. We like to travel, and though neither of us minds flying the friendly skies, we seem to get our fix mostly from the highway. There's something about the view through a windshield, the rhythm of white lines flashing past you, the intimacy of a travel-buddy conversation, the privacy of avoiding the masses of airports and public dining courts, the freedom to stop at whatever moves us, be it big rock, redwood or endless views. There's nothing like it.
I got into the RV on Saturday and we (once again) headed out into the open road to see what we could see. On this trip we intend to interview Jean Houston, Neil Donald Walsch(Conversations with God) and Steven Simon (What Dreams May come, Somewhere in Time), but whats we're the most excited about is seeing a road and scenery that we haven't seen before. We've been all over Southern Californai and the idea of looking out into a new landscape fills me with excitement.
First night, like with all first nights in this rig, we woke on the beach to the sound of a ctre young ranger banging on our sheet-metal door and asking us to pay our fee's (at 7;00 in the morning)
"How much is it?"I asked him, roused from a dream for only 30 seconds at the most. "It's eighteen dollars" he said smiling.
As I handed him a $20 bill I smart-alekly asked "Does it include coffee?" He looked at me unamused "Not really" He answered. "Then I suppose continental breakfast is . . . "
" . . Out of the question" he finished, and handed me two mangled bills without looking up, effectively killing my flirtatous demeanor. I let the spring loaded door slam without so much as an "Adios".
Dog is God spelled backwards
 Talking with Bang on the phone that day, he fills me in on the short list of misbehavings and emotional trauma my boys have put him through since I left them in his care. I'm not sure what I'm more stressed out about, the boys misbehaving to the point of monetary inconvenience(Rusty tearing up the rug in the hallway) or Bang's personal peace of mind, this being his first full time dog-sitting gig with a pair of rowdies like Mix and Rusty. I'm certain Mickey is determined to cause trouble while Daddy is away. I may have to call in the National Guard to keep him in the yard.
We drove all day and stopped briefly to shop and eat and gas up. The 101 freeway is so familiar to me now, I could probably tell you from the smell of the road which major-brand outlets we're cruising by at any given mile.
 We pulled into Kelly and Ed's driveway in San Rafael and went in for wine and cheese before heading out for Thai food. Later in the evening, naked and soaking in their new fiberglass mass of creature comfort, bubbling and gurgling Kelly, Ed and I discussed how from a distance a beautiful home, two cars in the garage and a new hotub making clouds of steam throughout the neighborhood may smell like success, but in reality does little to qwell the little voices in your head raising doubts like "Is this it?" "Am I doing it right?" "Am I gonna make it?". Seems it's an endless quest, and no matter how well you juggle it, it always seems like you need to work a little harder to really get your ducks in a row.
Kelly and Ed are doing everything right, but inside their terrified that it could all fall apart at any moment. I wonder of they would be surprised to learn that EVERYBODY feels that way, no matter how neatly their ducks are aligned.
We left their pancake kitchen this morning, after filling our tanks with San Rafael city water from Ed's driveway hose, and pulled the RV out onto the 101 in search of an 11:30 service at the Church of Religeous Science.
Jan went to church as I meandered through the village listening to Telepopmusic, God I love this iPod , thanks Bang-Baby!
Feedback to this article HERE
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Sometimes I feel a little strange being a non-conforming fag. Especially the other night when Bang and I and Eva and Brian went out to Pantages Theatre to see a free show of "The Producers" with Jason Alexander and Martin Short. We had pretty good seats, and the audience consisted of a large busload of people wearing red nametags.
