17 March 2000
It's actually 2:15 AM but let's just all be friends and call this the 17th of March, shall we? And a mighty fine happy St. Patrick's Day to you and yours. Is there a more empty holiday? I used to get pinched back in grade school because I thought having the middle name of "Green" would keep me eternally exempt from such shenanigans but I guess not.
So upon leaving my parents' home, at the very first turn, I made a left when I should've made a right. I do this constantly, with disastrous results. I figure this bodes serious ill for the rest of the trip. But I turn left because it's going south, which is the direction I want to go in, so I end up on the famous Highway 1 and of course it is suffocatingly beautiful. California has really been going all out as I try to escape it. Sunny, gorgeous, the grass is green, the wildflowers blooming, the ocean humongous and beckoning. It's like when I'm about to get my hair cut and I'm all pissed at my hair and calling it bad names and say, "OK, pal, this is it, you are getting cut and I mean it" and right as I storm out the door to the barber, I catch a glimpse of my hair in the mirror and it is stunning. It is together and doing all the right things in the right places and that just infuriates me and makes me want to butcher it rull bad. That's how California has been pulling out all the stops at the last minute but it's just too late.
And what drives this point home is that Highway 1, unbeknownst to me, is closed about 50 miles down the coast. Some sort of landslide or collapsed road or whatnot, and so I spend an hour driving down and an hour driving back where I can catch another road down south. I felt like a grade-A maroon and I coast into LA right around Friday afternoon rush hour which of course makes me vomit in agony.
I arrived late here at Vlad's apartment. He'd read yesterday's entry so was fully briefed on my situation and only needed a few details filled in. Yay internet. I didn't see anyone else from my old writer's group, incl. ye olde Jim Park. I curse their wretched souls but I really didn't give anyone that much advance warning. So it was just Vlad and I, flying solo, and we went to one awful bar with "Irish" in the title so you know it was jam-packed. We fled there and went to the H.M.S. Bounty which was less populated. There were photos of now-deceased bartenders on the wall and red pleather booths scattered throughout. Vlad talked me into going to Las Vegas, which I'd sort of given up on as arriving on Saturday is frowned upon and cheap rooms are difficult to come by. Still, I have my Luxor cup of spare change that I was looking forward to spending, and Vlad said he'd accompany me, so we'll be on our way tomorrow. I suppose I'll have to filter out the pennies.
Speaking of roadtrips to Vegas and coins, Jesse received a Pennsylvania Quarter on our final bowling night and gave it to me and I almost spent it on the Hawaiian Punch yesterday but thought better of it and stashed it away in my backpack for safekeeping. Also, I wish Evany was coming to Vegas, too, as she's Ms. Vegas USA and knows all the right casinos and shrimp cocktail cafeterias and strip clubs to go to, but I shall try to fend for myself and make her proud.
It's Chinese Dentist Time and I am almost fully asleep. I can't decide if this will be a typical or atypical entry. It seems a little tepid, but, on the other hand, I wasn't planning on writing anything today.
Vlad's apartment in West Hollywood. He has the best lava lamp I've ever seen, and he made it himself. It's this weird teardrop-shaped flask with a stopper on the top, and he filled it with blue liquid and some sort of poor-man's lava, then put a lightbulb at the bottom to heat it, with the bulb covered by a butter dish lid. It looks dangerous and scientific and unlike anything I've ever seen and I think I might try to steal it.
Today's Facial Hair Report:
It's allowing me to talk about Mustache Week.
All I had today was water and whiskey, but my mother gave me some strange health sodas that are currently sitting in my car, assuming it hasn't been stolen, and I shall make every effort to chug them tomorrow, though they'll be warm and probably yucky.