Au Revoir, Aloha

My mother just asked me to keep her 70th birthday, tomorrow, a secret.

Up at camp, the May schedule is already christening our dry erase board. My departure date is up there and it spooked me a little something. Just when I'm settling into my groove it's time to up my moors and hit the friendly skies. I'm not exactly George Clooney in Up In The Air, wait, I'm not exactly George Clooney, but life on the road is my kinda life. It pains me to be a nomad and always worry about not being happy while being still. But moving is exhilarating. Focus!

And I do like the kids! Go figure. Here's the biggest thing though; the kids actually like me. That's it! A discovery. I've applied to teach youngsters how to ride bikes in New York over the summer. Might have to see that through. But not before I drive cross country. Ask me what country. What country, you ask? Canada! That's right. It looks like I may just get the opportunity to drive a Camry from Vancouver to Toronto before finding another means of transport onwards to Montreal to get my car.

And the summer has already promised me Bonnaroo and Rifflandia 3! Generally speaking, spirits are on the uptick. May and June are going to be helluva great times. I hope I don't lose my shirt trying to keep my wheels spinning.

Great experience; yesterday we did a program at Camp Mokule'ia. When we finished, I swiped a low hanging coconut off a tree and brought it back to Timberline. There I spent perhaps 15 minutes husking this thing to get to about 16 ounces of coconut water and jelly. Well worth it! Food is work. Life is fodder for memories. It's all about the memories.

Shortimerz Syndrome

My time here in the Aloha State is on the decline. It's almost May which to me is synonymous with Mainland. I'm looking forward to another summer of crazy parties, music festivals and bicycles. Fingers crossed.

The other day I got to venture to the Big Island... but that was literally the other DAY. Yup, we (myself and a couple workmates) were there for a little less than 48 hours. It sucked everything out of my meager bank account BUT we got to buy papayas at 4 for $1, stay in the hippie enclave of Pahoa where Ning's cooked up the best Thai food I've ever had the pleasure of savoring, met all sorts of Big Island crazies AND swam in a warm spring (a tidal pool/hot spring). The Big Island is the best thing to happen to Hawaii in about 300,000 years.

And like that I'm back on Oahu inhaling red dirt and overspending on Newman O's and trinkets. And every time I watch that sun set I get to itching for the day I hop on the plane and retire from island life. That's not to say that the Big Island is not in my future. There was at least one bar in Hilo with an actual sign of life there. Go figure. Go 'head fool, compute!!

Phantom II (Soulwax Remix 2) by Justice is PUMPING in my earbuds. I'm seeing triple at Bonnaroo as I write this. Thomas Mars just crowd surfed by me again. He's got a tiny pimple on his chin. And barely any facial hair. It's over. I'm driving up north for Osheaga! Crap, it's over. That's okay, I've got Rifflandia 3!! Summer, you must really miss me.

Random randomnositude: My most recent school group at camp, an all-girl 5th grade class that included Dwayne "Dog the Bounty Hunter" Chapman's daughter, had students named Sunshine and Liberty. Is the pakalolo making a come back?

And I sunburned the right side of my belly a couple days ago. Just the right side of just my belly.

Kukua!!!

Living with 5 or 6 women does have its disadvantages. In fact, I think it only has disadvantages. One girl admitted today to having Seasonal Affect Disorder. Which is fine and dandy for the rest of us except that she called a ROOMATES' meeting to tell us all. There are so many feelings floating around you could swat them with a fly swatter. She wants to conduct a bitch session, now, once a week. In other words, she wants to meet once weekly to bitch about the living situation. She's also a girly lesbian what dresses like a bike dyke and despises guy folk. Needless to say, she's troubled with herself and her identity and feels it necessary to impose her degree of lost and confused on us all. But of course, the girls are all more than willing to jump on board and I'm corralled into our weekly cry and moan meetings. Not that I didn't suggest we do this thing monthly instead; just, our lost child needs all eyes on her once a week instead of once every full moon.

In other news, I'm really digging this Hawaiian pidgin. It's akin to Canadian, really. Today I sat in a medical office and listened to a guy throw "ehs" around like it was the Vancouver Winter Olympics (which just ended gloriously for the Maple Leaves up north). My favorite thing about Hawaii, however, is Bangkok Chef! Their yellow chicken curry is to die for with potatoes and white meat chicken and ginger and STICKY RICE! Best part? It's only $6.5o. I'd do it everyday if I could (which I can't, it's in Chinatown, far far away from my home in Makakilo by island standards).

As nice as all THAT is, I'm still looking forward to my next 3 visits to beautiful Canada (to visit my gal pal on the way back to New York, to grab my car in Montreal, and gal palling it again whilst attending Rifflandia 3 in September). I feel good. Good.

Sobriety on Oahu

It feels like soooo long ago since I was chasing Quebecoise all over Montreal. Now I'm sitting outside of Safeway, eating up their free wi-fi, with my eyes set on a prize in Victoria, British Columbia. My how things change.

I've been away from this blog thing for quite some time and there is quite a bit of catching up to do but put simply I'm covered in red dirt, on and island on an island and feeling like I'm doing hard time.

I've also developed, serendipitously, a pretty obtainable goal of visiting all 50 states. Not to sure what to call the ones I've only driven through. Does driving through entail a visit? Or do I have to relieve myself for it to "stick"? Hmmm? Anyway, I've only got a few to go considering I've gotten the 2 non-contiguous states out of the way. I've also had Amazon.com ship products to me in both Hawaii and Alaska.

Other notes on Hawaii: sunscreen is toxic stuff, stuff is expensive, tropical fruit is not readily available ANYWHERE in America (Unless, of course, you're willing to SPEND), and pakalolo is Hawaiian for the jolly green mood alterer.

Back in Bedlam

Geez, I hate America. Fuck this place with the freest of speech. Folks, I bought a couple of baking potatoes from Walmart up in Fairbanks, Alaska. After crossing the border into Port Angeles, Washington, the soul less border and customs officials confiscated my American bought potatoes. Essentially, it's starting; the US government justifies doing whatever the fuck it is they want to do with impunity. What a massive injustice.

The worst part is driving across this land. It is vast, varied and beautiful but the people rival the worst on Earth. I picked up a couple of hobo children in Portland, Oregon and these kids garnered nothing but stares all across the country. The sheriff in Podunk West Yellowstone, Montana had the nerve to tell one of the girls that he doesn't appreciate her "kind" around town and he offered to arrest her for vagrancy. The gas station attendant in Buttfuck, Oregon, when asked how he was doing insisted that he had no idea. I made a purchase and offered the most delightful of pleasantries and he couldn't even look me in the eye. The lady at the pizzeria/Internet café in West Yellowstone was a complete bitch and barely acknowledged my futile attempts to get some traveling information. Luckily, the Firestone service station in Northwestern Chicago, Illinois was filled with helpful, swift technicians who had me out the door in an hour. And the delightful woman walking to work in Portland also was very genial and pointed me and a travel mate in the direction of Voodoo donuts, of Anthony Bourdain fame. Also, the T-Mobile in Portland also facilitated my request to waive the account activation fee to set me up with cellular service. Whatever, we shotgunned it from Seattle to Brooklyn in three days, 4 adults, 3 dogs, no showers, barely any sleep and one blown-out tire. Fuck America.

I'm in a nasty mood because, well, I've seen better. In Alaska, your neighbor is the ONLY thing you have. The place is so vast, so remote, so brutal that you do anything to lend a hand, if even just to smile at your fellow warm-blooded oxygen breather. You don't buy Mercedes, French Connection, or care about Bluetooth connectivity. You get quilted flannel, 4 wheel drive, and red meat. And it makes you all the more practical and humane for it. In Canada, you light up a bowl before you lift a fist in anger. You puff a "j" before you huff and puff. The police even seem to respect you for it. In America, they confiscate your belongings and tell you you aren't wanted. They barely look you in the eye. Canada, adopt me; I'll love you more than the Queen.

"Oh, I'm longing to be out in the sweet unknown.."
Heartless Bastards on Be so happy.

Summer of 2009, I opened you mowing lawns somewhere in West Mount, I'm sure. I closed you on the shores of Vancouver near Stanley Park watching the sun set and snapping a photo or two. I went North toward the future. I urinated under the northern lights. I went to Whitehorse and didn't get drunk. I saw Tegan and Sara back stage and they said "hey" to me about 7 separate times. I watched Gentleman Reg rock out. I got zooted in the woods and made fried bread in the bush. I got completely wasted, then drove off-road to entertain two Louisianans. I burnt coffee on purpose and had people praise it. I had hippies pass me joints. I met a hundred + new faces. I rediscovered a deep seated/seeded hatred of my motherland. I got fed free beer and bar b que. And I learned that I can't wait to do it all over again... because nothing's stopping me.

The Bulgarian Bonfire Soirees

Eastern Europeans. Every time I forget my woes and start seeing life for its very few charms, it's in the presence of foreigners (or, in the case of Quebec, people foreign to me). Here in Alaska, young Eastern Europeans are brought in for the hospitality and tourism industry. They're cheap labor to the local proprietors and the kids get to come to America to suss out whatever it is Eastern Bloc-ers come to America to suss out. It's a win-win.

The season is winding down faster than a rig going 65 MPH is incapacitated by a moose on paved permafrost. And the RV park the clowns I work for put us in has closed for the season. The RV park's Eastern Europeans throw a party of sorts every night now. They light a camp fire and play bad techno/electronica/dance music. They've invited us Jeep boys to drink cheap beer with them and hang out around the fire. They burn anything they can get their hands on. I never knew Budweiser cans burn so well.

So at night, we hang out under the moon drinking the cheap stuff and chatting absolute nonsense. And I couldn't be having more fun. I hope they're out tonight, though Maria is on a flight to LA or Vegas or NYC and the rest of the Moldovans, Macedonians, Bulgarians and Russians are about to fly the coup too. Any day, as a matter of fact. Our group is bound to dry up quickly. And when it does it's back to the blanket feelings of underwhelmed-with-being. Bang! I fucking love moose, mountains and fire. I'll miss the the heck out of this place. But I gotta split!!

From bad to September

Feeling low. Low. The sun went from setting at 10:45pm to setting at 8:30pm. Northern lights were out again last night. They sucked. Today, 09/09/09, my rideshares headed south decided to nix the whole thing. Now I have to bear the burden of driving 5 thousand miles and paying for 5 thousand miles worth of fuel.

And I keep seeing moose splattered all over the place. I saw a massive rig with a dent the size of my extended family in it. And a blood splatter bigger than a Ford F-150. The last thing to go through the mind of the moose it hit? Its own asshole. Hanging out in the middle of the Parks Highway at whatever hour that happened, maybe its own asshole was the ONLY thing to ever go through that moose's mind.

I'm very excited to be leaving this place in under 2 weeks. But I'm still sitting with the unnerving feeling that I'm not going to be very happy anywhere else. Sometimes. Well, I think that I'm bigger than this brain. This body. This life. What kills me is the wants. I want to eat every day. Hunger is a pesky little habit. I want stuff. Maybe even a woman friend. Vey. Purple tennis shoes. A winning lottery ticket. A road bike with flat handle bars. A skill. A New York strip steak. A happiness maybe very few people know. Lucky kid that I am. To want to be happier and not healthier, or safer, or cleaner, or less closer to death. Lucky to be unhappy.

So I'm rolling down the Stampede trail and come to a calf moose trot right by me. Then the mama moose saunters in front of my Jeep. So I sit. And throw the Jeep in park and watch. I didn't do much thinking. I just watched. I suppose if I did think I would have wondered that I can't watch this sort of thing in Brooklyn. Or that I'm on the clock is this is helping me pay the bills. Or that this is the exact reason I came to Alaska for 6 weeks. Or how I'd be writing about my thoughts in another day or two. Writing about her and her calf. Writing about how each one of her mouthfuls of tree leaves equates to about 5 or 6 large salads at any deli anywhere. And then I actually did have a thought. I threw the Jeep into drive and motioned onward. But she squared me up. And I thought either she's not going anywhere. Or that I'm disturbing her meal. I put the Jeep back into park and hung out a while longer. Microcosm for my life? At almost 30, did I just throw it back into park? Am I idling on my trail?

What about you and your trail?