Heading out West. Pioneer wagon/Nissan Murano/whatever dude, eating out of a can, air conditioning in the hair, me dog and me girl, exploring the endless possibilities of the universe and maybe even Kentucky. Not a care in the world except for getting lost and freezing our nuts off and or dying by freak accident. Ah, the proverbial road trip. So many of our forefathers have traversed afar, yes, traversed, like the mother fucking wise men in search of the mother fucking North Star, in search of the Jesus-meister, cross country, cross comfort zones, right into the heart and lower intestines of the American dream, ahhh, to be unemployed, to be set free, to be eating out way less, this is the life. No one to tell us no, or where to go, or say we’re only dreaming, except for my Asian-er than Asian dad who thinks I’m being, and I quote without using quotes, I fucking hate quotes, loathe even, so confining, like annoying hair clips in my words’ hair, if my words had hair, my words are claustrophobic, no need quotes—Ryan, you’re being a 20 year old kid. You can’t just drive cross the country without a job. It’ll be cold and dangerous, and you need to land another job first, Asian guilt trip, Asian guilt trip, crouching tiger stance.
First of all, Father Motts, what dya think, we’re going to get jumped by some Indians on the path to Cali? Some Injuns? What is this, mother fucking young guns II up in this bitch? Sheeeeeeeyit. Please. And I will land another job. Or not. I will make my money. Always have. The only thing that I can do wrong right now is to stress the fuck out, inhale… hold it… exhale… touch self… mmm.
Look, I appreciate everyone’s concern, dad, and others who are concerned, but I am not.
Concerned. Yet. Sure, I may get concerned, but I don’t wanna, cross arms, curl lower lip, stomp feet, do dance.
I want to be gangsta. Wanna look at my life from the future perspective of my old dying grandpa self, on some bed, still watching porn, but unable to do anything about it, yes, even beyond pill help, or actually, maybe Viagra will be able to help, but maybe I’ll have dementia, and I’ll forget which pills are which, and so I’ll sometimes be hard when I simply want my headache to go away, Lying there, thinking about my life, wondering what the fuck it was all for, pondering it’s value, I wanna see this road trip. I want the future old me, to see the past kind of young me, about to take this road trip in the near future, just after being fired and be like—fuck yeah, kind of young me, you rocked that shit, cough, cough, grab nurse’s ass. I want to see me having one of the best, if not THEE best times of my god damn god forsaken life, god dammit. and I only use THEE when I really really mean it, because it’s holy and shit. I don’t wanna see me quickly rushing to the next gig, jumping into the corporate world of please fuck me in the ass in exchange for medical, begging to ease my financial panic, fuckthatnoise.com.
Well, I suppose if I got an offer…
The point is, I don’t have an offer yet. and so I’m planning this trip. If Howard Stern calls anytime soon, then sure, I’ll reconsider, but til then, it’s WEST SiYEEEEDe!!
“Just drive”—Ricky Bobby
I’m not going all hippie/namaste/St. Francis of Assisi on y’all, I want cash. I understand having to get a job. But come on! I got a little severance, got a little time, got a little boner thinking about how few and far in between these opportunities come! Everyone always says they want to drive across the country but they never can because they’re always mother fucking working! I’m just jealous, you 401k-ing whores.
We are all stuck in the fucking matrix our whole lives! Keeping jobs we hate, so we can buy stuff that other people buy, actually, I could use a GPS system right about now, stop it! You will be fine without the GPS Ryan, and stop talking to yourself. How do you think the pioneers of old did it? They didn’t have all the technological toys that we had, but they survived. They di’n’t have no GP mother fucking S. What? Ok, yes, it probably did take them longer. What was that, voice in my head? Alright fine, if they could afford a GPS, and if there was one existing back then, I’m sure they would’ve appreciated it, look, that is not the point. We are all slaves to this consumer frenzy we call America, selling our precious lives to the man, minute by minute, smoke break by smoke break, tps report by tps report, and yes, I suppose it’s possible that I will stop saying all this shit once I get a job, but I DON’T HAVE ONE RIGHT NOW so let me pretend it’s the best thing that ever happened to me! I’m pretending to pretend actually, I DO feel like it IS the best time of my life. I’m so over trying to do anything. Trying to fucking try. Being that certain special someone for the right pay. I just want to fucking grow out my pubes and dance in the moonlight projecting luminously from my lap top’s screensaver. I want to be my own boss, I’m fired, I’m kidding, sorry, geez, I just wanted to see what if felt like to play the other side, now go get me some coffee, yes sir. to be free. To live this next phase of my life as if I had testicular cancer. sSmething really magical happens when you consider that your balls might fall off at anytime. You take charge. You lose all fear. You cannot fail. All you see is what you want to see, your vision, your soon-to-be ball-less-ness, your short fucked up life about to end at any moment, and so you make it great. You make it historical. You fuck bitches while smoking a cigarette and watching ESPN and yelling at the referee, you make your life count god dammit.
“No other road, no other way, no day but today!” [That’s right, I quoted Rent, sup]
If you have any suggestions, this humble Hawaiian family of amateur nomads would love some. Where? What? Who? Not so much how. Um, food? Equipment? Cool shit we just can’t miss for the life of us? Avoid any routes that actually may have some Indians ready to scalp us? We need some guidance like Orlando Bloom got from Kirsten Dunst in Elizabethtown, fuck, I just referenced Rent and Elizabethtown in the same fucking blog, somebody teabag me in the face, I deserve it, I change my mind.
“Ask not what your country can do for you, but rather, what you can do, that’s cool and shit, when you are crossing the country.”
—J.F. mother fucking K.
November 1st, 2007.