Wednesday, October 21st, 2009

Been over a week since I wrote anything. Couldn’t tell you much that happened during that time. I drank coffee. I smoked. I missed home. I went to couple meetings in that church. I think I spoke at one of them and said out loud that I used to do investigative work for a law firm in Los Angeles. Stupid stupid stupid. Got a couple blackouts in there sprinkled in. Sometimes I drive, but mostly I walk. This town is walking sized, not like where I’m from. The leaves are changing colors and getting red orange and yellow, never seen anything like it. I am working very hard to convince myself to stand still, don’t move, this is the perfect spot I tell myself. Rent’s cheap (not that I’ve paid it yet, or can), food’s cheap, people frighteningly friendly. I don’t get it. Is this really how other people outside the coastal bubbles of LA and NY live? It gets so quiet at night I can hear myself think. Never a good thing. My father used to tell me about growing up in a place something like this. Don’t know how he ever made it out alive. Sometimes I wake up after a nightmare convinced I’m dreaming. But I’m not dreaming. I’m really here.

Monday, October 12th, 2009

Two doors down from the sublet I found around here is a house w2here there is ropck music comnng out all the dtime. SOUnds pretty good, I guess, they seems to be enjoying ti and rocking pretty hard at times. I am in a place that is of questionable quality .. difintiely not up to code when it ocmes to occupational/tenant resiiedence, but its very cheap and near the best bar in town far as I can telll the Tremont Tavern. The bartnedner there is very cool and who knowsw what he laced that joint with that we smoked out back during his break time tonight bu it is makng me type awesome right now late on this brown couch and feeling fine. Before sleep. before time to disappear. Feel liek I could be Ron Harlin in this place along time and not bother anyone including myself until all the crap in LALa dies down fro good then I can get back to work. Someday. WHen Simpson is dead. WHen Dante is free. WHen Hollywood forgets, which iti always dcoes eventually. No apologiy necessary. My landlady sweeps th e leaves obsessivesly thorough this beautiufl fall and I am already done with the money I made on the drive and alonely ahs hell. I’ll need to get that next month’s rient to her soon since I started midmonth. Well, enough. Goodn ight. Goodnight sheilllllll;;;;;;;;;;;

Thursday, October 8th, 2009

Haven’t left Chattanooga yet. Not sure why. Maybe because I feel so anonymous here. Not sure I mentioned this but the City Diner has some the best Greek food I’ve had in a long time. OK so its the first Greek food I’ve seen on a menu this side of the Mississippi, but still. Good dolmades. Found a meeting at an old church nearby, St. Vincent’s, I think its called. Small meeting, people seem cool, quiet, don’t ask too many questions. Except for one, who asked me if I’d speak next week. I’m not supposed to say no, but I told her I might not be around then. She understood. Whole world full of people without a home, you stop being surprised when someone ups and disappears. Caught myself combing the classifieds for a sublet where I can hole up for a while. Lots of trees here. Big river. Might be a nice antidote to big city crazy, at least until I can figure out my next move. Then again, I might go completely nuts.

Monday, October 5th, 2009

Made the drop. Never did open those suitcases. What would be the point? Two guys met me at the entrance to an auto shop on the south side of town. Surprised they didn’t put a slug in me right there, they were so steamed about how delayed my arrival was. Car trouble, I told em. I guess I was about 12 hours from being on the whole state’s permanent shitlist and the focus of a manhunt by the local criminal element. Good thing I hit a meeting in Birmingham, cleaned up and brought the ship into port. Got paid. They were short, but I didn’t have much room to argue. Now I’m sitting in the City Diner by the Days Inn wondering what’s next. Probably a safe bet I won’t be asked to make another run anytime soon, considering how “unreliable” I’ve proven to be. Not in my best interest to keep up that kind of work, anyway, seeing as how I’m trying to keep it quiet and need as little trouble as possible. This town seems alright. Small. Gonna stick around, find another meeting at least before I split. Gotta stay sober this time. I mean it.

Friday, October 2nd, 2009

You gotta be kidding me, man. 3 days later and I haven’t moved. The rain is pouring down on this city like God’s own shitstorm. Walls and walls of water. I came out of a blackout on the corner of St. Charles and Canal with an overflowing gutter up to my shins and realized I’d better find a way to get out of this city before I drown. The French Quarter is not a cesspool. There are some good people and a very nice pool table at Kerry’s Irish Pub on Decatur. They have a lot of my money in there. There is the greatest trumpet player I’ve ever heard who plays every day on a Bourbon St. corner for tips. Apart from that, I believe I’ve consumed a lifetime’s worth of oyster po boys and 7 and 7s at various restaurants around the city. Giving me half up front for the delivery was obviously a mistake, for all parties. Better make tracks to Chattanooga to get the other half before I have people looking for me and wondering what happened to the suitcases. Still haven’t looked. I will later. When it won’t matter so much.

Tuesday, September 29th, 2009

Somehow managed to miss the entire French Quarter, which I guess you could consider lucky. At least that’s what Doug told me. “Cesspool”, he called it. He put two suitcases in the trunk of my car without asking any questions. I decided not to ask any either. What’s the point? Gave me an address in Chattanooga, TN where I’m supposed to drop them in a couple days. Sounds simple enough. Sitting outside some bar called The Crow’s Nest I started thinking about Sheila. Always a bad idea. She’d have been begging to go for oysters and shrimp down here. Me I can do without the shellfish. Miss her. I can feel that weight in the trunk of the Buick and it makes me sick to my stomach. One stinking cop who thinks my California plates look a little funny could pull me over and end my little roadtrip real quick, and if you think that can’t happen in Alabama then I’ve got some oceanfront property in Nevada for sale that you should take a look at. Payday’s good for the delivery, half in my pocket, half on the other end. Chattanooga’s what, 800 miles away? I’ll take it slow and steady. Sober. Sober, dammit.

Sunday, September 27th, 2009

El Paso had some of the best Mexican food I’ve ever eaten. Not that I’m an authority on the subject, but when the mole sauce is thick as molasses and darker than a Hershey’s bar you’re in business. It was so good even I remembered it, which is impressive. Gotta lay off the booze. Hit my first meeting in months in San Antonio. It was, big surprise, a roomful of drunks. Dropped in on my friend who made me a Texas driver’s license so official looking I considered running for state office. Guess I’m “Ron Harlin” from Austin now. When I asked to borrow some money he got quiet, then told me about a friend of his in New Orleans who has something he needs driven somewhere, “not sure how much he’s paying but it should be substantial.” Substantial sounds good. I said I was interested. Took in the Alamo and checked into a Motel 6. All those arches and adobe walls made me miss L.A., but only for a second. Dante’s eating baloney sandwiches while I’m out riding the plains. Which of us would you rather be? Don’t answer that.

Thursday, September 24th, 2009

Monday, September 21st, 2009

Vegas. Always hated this place. I had an uncle who told me he once just rolled down the window and threw a twenty dollar bill out the window while he drove through, saved himself a couple minutes at a blackjack table. Never knew whether he really did that, but I liked the story. Wish I could say I did the same. As it turns out, I bet a shitload of money on the Patriots over the Jets yesterday. Whole lotta gas money I left at the Sands. Only good part was when I ran into an old dancer friend of mine at the craps table and got some free room and board out of it, if you can call it free. Now I’m sitting here in front of some 6 dollar steak and eggs at 6 in the p.m. and feeling the loneliness starting to take hold of me like a vice grip around my throat. Never felt so alone. Gonna bet on the Colts to cover the spread against Miami tonight and try to get even. Guess it doesn’t matter which way I drive tonight – it’s desert both ways.

Saturday, September 19th, 2009

Pawned the stereo system and left the apartment.  I figure there’s at least another 3 grand worth of furniture and whatnot in there for the landlord, should more than make up for the fact that he didn’t get his 30 days.  Traded the Dodge in for a baby blue Buick and fifteen hundred dollars.  Whole city full of paper buildings looks like to me right now.  Nothing’s real except my headache.  I hear the 10 Freeway ends somewhere in Florida, Jacksonville or something … I’m about to find out.  Accidentally threw my CDL in the dumpster behind my place, we’ll see how far I get without an i.d.  I know someone in San Antonio who might be able to help me with that if I can get that far without an incident.  There’s no one to cry over me leaving this place so I won’t cry either.  Gonna sit here til the sun goes down and watch the girls on Melrose.  Mini skirts in September.  Nothing beats LA, but it ain’t where I live anymore.

Thursday, September 17th, 2009

Not sure why I’m writing this down but I guess I will.  If anything it’ll help me keep my head straight while I try and figure out what to do.  Dante got frog marched out of the Federal Courthouse downtown this morning.  Guess someone had to take the fall.  Glad it wasn’t me.  Not fooling myself – I’m next in line.  Where to start?  As long as its between me and this laptop, I’ll spare myself the details.  Suffice it to say I’ve broken into a lot of famous people’s houses.  Then I sat outside those houses and listened to phone conversations, most of them very boring.  The not so boring parts, Dante used to make himself, me, and a few other staff members a pretty decent living.  Listening to the details come out in a courtroom made it seem so much dirtier.  At the time, it felt like we were just doing what it took to survive in the naked city, albeit at the expense of the ruling class.  Hell, it ain’t my fault they’re at the mercy of the tabloids, is it?  Not sure how much longer I can stick around.  That assistant DA who prosecuted Pelinsano, Simpson, was staring a hole through me after the sentencing.  He won’t be satisfied with one fish.  He wants the whole pond.