Day 99: It Certianly Is Strange To Be Here...

October 29th, 2007:

I wake up for the transfer in Sacramento. An ugly town if there ever was one. This is Central California: Ugliness extends beyond the horizon and on into infinity. Everything is brown, except the lawns of fast food establishments which are well manicured and watered a deep green. Small and tacky oasis’ in a sea of dirt colored houses. The bus gets full, and I end up sitting next to an elderly Asian woman, whose husband sits a row behind us with a watchful eye. At one point in the trip, the middle-aged Asian woman sitting in front of me refused to give her seat to a black guy. It was pretty awful.

Nick had suggested I read The Collected Stories of Amy Hempel on my way down to Los Angeles. Wow… Am I ever glad I did. Some of the best writing I have ever read; it is profoundly emotional without resorting to stupid flowery prose. This woman is amazing, and reading her wry, smart and beautifully constructed sentences makes me want to write again. Truly inspiring.

The bus drops me off in North Hollywood where I am planning to catch a city bus to Sherman Oaks. Well… apparently the busses here don’t run but every half hour. I walk most of it, and the weather is amazing. I forgot how good the wind feels out here. I could spend every day outside in the sun.

I call Allison from the AM/PM by her house, but she is on set. I call up Allison’s roommate Dani K, whose parents helped me out in Chicago, and we made plans to get dinner. It’s good to see her again; she lets me into the apartment, and I stay up late waiting for Allison to get home.

I carve out a corner of the room where I can keep my stuff. I am reunited with a bag of clothes that I had sent here before the trip began. My hard drive with my music collection. A different pair of shoes. 4 walls. A large bed. A kitchen. A TV. Video Games, a 7-11 down the street. It’s not “home”, but a facsimile that might one day earn a place in my heart, enough for me to think of it as home. The Bike trip feels so far away. I look over the old photographs from the first few weeks of the trip, just so I can fully appreciate the contrast between now and then. I am sentimental for all of it. The thought enters my mind that maybe I can ride the TransAM route sometime in the not too distant future. But that’s an idea for another time. Tomorrow I will start making plans and coming up with brilliant ideas for a bright new future, but tonight I will watch backlogged episodes of The Soup and stretch out across the bed, drinking Diet Coke and eating pizza like the king that I am.

And so I guess this is it… It certainly is strange to be here.