aric with an a

Full Disclosure - I’m drunk. And if you don’t believe me, I’ll take a screenshot of John Mayer’s ‘Free Fallin’ (Live) cover that I’m downloading.

Call it being 32, call it my 2 big projects falling through, both in the past 3 days, call it what you want - but something ran through my mind while Tim and I took our chairs from the Bocce court we spent an hour on and pulled them to the waterfront.

‘When do you think you’ll die?’

‘I don’t know’.

But something about the lifestyle that both manifested itself and got there with a little help makes one wonder. I’m 32. And have less than $300 to my name. No desire to do anything that’s not chosen and while that might seem incredibly romantic, it’s hard sometimes. I live with friends on their bus, I fly to Europe on a friend’s tab - all of these experiences have a possesive before them and it’s not mine.

‘Free-loading’.

Don’t act like that phrase hasn’t crossed your mind because it does mine everyday. When I contributed most is when I was in a place I hated. But now all of my stories should be a ghost-write or come with some introductionary explanation that I’m only here out of goodwill from people I’m close with.

‘And there in lies the rub’, writes The Bard - but at least he could afford rent.

So, I’m troubled - if you can’t tell that already.

‘Live. Love. Learn. Leave a Legacy’ - these were the words my father repeated to me during my travels. But does batting .725 count? The ‘live’ comes in not bowing to pride when friends who own a bus invite me, the ‘learn’ comes from the constant revaluation of my own fuck-ups. Do I ‘love’? Yes - my friends and family. But what about the big one? Each new day presents a new reminder that the one I thought I would might never be. Which leaves ‘legacy’ - a pissed-off vlog about my life in China and a book about the 6 months I spent afterwards? Hardly think that’s going to change anything…or anyone.

I keep going back to this girl’s blog - as if someone gives a shit. I had an email from someone who says she does, and I believe her - but this is hardly riveting stuff. Would I ever be thanked in the inside cover of an album? No. I wouldn’t. I’ll just be invited to the release party.

Wait - I’m not down on myself. I’m not. I guess this is just the poor equivalent of buying a Corvette.

And I just don’t know.

So, I’m in a mood - and I hate admitting that. It’s not a bad mood, per say…just a funk, of sorts. I don’t like admitting it as I sit here in the beach bar, looking out over the Gulf of Mexico with a drink in hand and a quite-good tune on repeat, but it’s there. I know, I know - these diamond-soled shoes cut the carpet, etc.

I’ll work on this, but all of my friends seem to be jumping on this ‘25 Random Things About Me’ on Facebook, but I don’t want to do it there. A few, however, might make me smile to type about, so I’ll do it here, cool?

Cool.

1. My grandfather met my grandmother in the circus. He was a carnie and she was a ‘can-can’ girl. I didn’t find this out until a few years after he passed away, as they were embarassed about it.

2. I used to have a 34-inch vertical jump.

3. My virginity was lost at 19…and it scared the shit out of me.

4. I’m a stoic when it comes to things that affect me

5. I hate talking on the phone - save for the select few people I’ve told that ‘I hate talking on the phone, but like talking on the phone to you’.

6. A thatched-roof one-bedroom house in West Ireland and a 30-foot sailboat in the Caribbean - these are my 2 dream homes.

7. Britney Spears told her record label rep that I was cute.

8. Do not ever touch, come near or joke about putting something in my belly-button. I can’t even touch it. Seriously.

9. I don’t like my curly hair - not one bit.

10. I have a thing for Ally Sheedy-in-The Breakfast Club-types of partners.

11. I can play piano by ear.

12. I damn-near cry everytime Leonard Cohen’s sings that final bar of ‘Hallelujia’ - right where the choir sings and it goes silent for a split-second.

13. Otis Redding will forever be my favorite artist. If I ever get married, I’ll gladly give up voicing in the seating arrangements for being able to make ‘My Precious Love’ as the first dance.

14. I walked up to a radio station and asked if I could have a job purely out of the reason my friend Matt said that I wouldn’t ever be a radio presenter.

15. My family is the strongest family I know.

16. Despite being able to play basketball decently, I quit my junior year because I wanted to focus on becoming a SCUBA diving instructor…in Oklahoma.

17. I cannot stand to have anything in my front pockets - except for money, which I never have.

18. I have R.L.S.  - which sucks, as I’m always on a plane or bus.

19. I cannot forgive, nor forgive, my trust being broken with someone.

20. Cool mountain mornings win out every time over a beach setting.

21. No sense of direction.

22. I’ve recently began liking being a Christian again - but also stand by the rule that God gets annoyed at people who don’t enjoy their life.

23. I give great advice.

24. I have never walked up to a girl/lady/women in a bar and asked if I could buy them a drink - the thought of it scares the shit out of me.

25. I’m hypersensitive to a fault.

…wow - that helps.

[Photo of someone who I wonder what would think of himself 30 years later]

A few days ago, I took a chance and looked at someone’s blog who I won’t mention. It was the same way you slow down at the scene of an accident. It was crap. Horrible. Not as far as content goes, seeing how I’m not leading that race - but her assumption that people were actually taking note and giving a shit…and then I silently hoped that wasn’t me. I love that my little misunderstood name of a blog has put me in touch with so many people, wonderful and talented and kind people - this is the part I like. Not my offering. I cannot stress that enough.

Sorted? I hope so - ’cause it’s not what I wanted to talk about.

I did want to mention a few things, the first is that I’d been offline for a few days for a reason I’d rather not get into but it’s not hard to guess. So I have some catching up to do on The Bus Boy (not that anyone give’s a shit, ha), as well as a few updated (for instance - Erin, a few days after me posting her being inspired, had the most amazing experience that has her back in the creative game which is a blessing for all of us - trust me), and a few more, but…

Another addition to the Bewilderingly Blessed Life of Mine would be my cyber-friend Leslie. We’ve talked a few times, but not enough for me to constitute real friendship. That being said, however, yesterday she sent me this sketch she did of me and it just made me smile. A lot.

So thank you, Leslie.

Oh yes, and Mr. Crowell added a new video of our trip down to Baton Rogue with this short on our bonfire down on the bayou:

I’ve got good friends.

Tim woke up feeling great - which is a good sign. I’d still put him at about 75% at best, but he’s much, much better than a few days before. We pulled out of the R.V. park only to be stopped by the lady running the office who happened to share with us why, exactly, we were the ‘talk of the town’ in her lot…more on that in a sec*.

5 hours later (and a finished chapter in the book - nothing like a little self-loathing to make things happen, hey), we arrive in the outskirts of what looks to be a fine town. I enter the address into Yelp to find that this little beachside town boasts over 25 pubs, 2 of them authentic Irish! Tim likes the sound of some proper Shepherd’s Pie on his belly and we make our way to the lakeside campground. There was no one in the office to meet us, save for a few pieces of paper taped up to the door. ‘Park Anywhere’ was the rule…one of many, a few of which I felt the need to share:

#14a - Fighting: Excessive loud parties, cursing, fighting or rowdiness will not be tolerated. Absolutely no discussion on who was right or wrong, it simply will not be tolerated.

#17 - Fishing and Wildlife: DO NOT feed the alligators!

…oh, Florida.

A few hours later, Tim emerged from the shower, still feeling rough - bless him. I’ve never known anyone that’s been through salmonella, but it doesn’t look fun at all. He still managed to set the new high score on Galaga with 138,650. [Update - I equalized tonight with 226,570]

Per the size of the bus, here’s a little short Collin just did to help you comprehend:

*Once Tim feels better, I’ll have he and Robin write down everything that goes into setting up, and tearing down, this massive bus. Some of it might surprise you.

[Click for full-size]

Remember when this happened for Bush?

Me neither.

I haven’t written because not a lot has been going on - and while T&R apologize for that, I’m enjoying it. The walls stay the same, it’s just the photos that come alive when you draw back the curtains that change. Such is the life of life on a bus.

I’m not even feeling the urge to write today, and if it weren’t for the nagging voice in the back of my head that constantly reminds me of the amount of things I’ve started, yet never finished, I’d be happy to upload a photo here and there…so I’ll meet it in the middle with a few highlights.

We left New Orleans, Tim still feeling the effects of whatever it was he ate a few days back…can I just show one more photo of it? By this time, we have about 3 different angles.

…ugh. I’d really love someone to tell me how to easily wrap text around photos, this centering is boring me.

We got to Pensacola and, for the first time in a year, the dogs were able to attack-retreat the ocean waves, which was fun. We tried to go out, but there just wasn’t a lot happening in Pensacola, so, after a few days, we moved. Tim was still feeling bad - fever, tummy, aches, etc. - talk about some bad food poisoning.

Back-tracking the route we did a few years ago, we ended up here, in Panama City. Tim’s Mom called him and immediately diagnosed him with such an extreme sickness, both Robin and I had to chuckle. No way did he have salmonella poisoning from the peanuts pictured above.

He had salmonella poisoning from the peanuts pictured above.

Poor guy is still at the tail end of it and both Robin and I have been emailing Mrs. Sisney for stock tips.

And here I sit - the wind blowing outside making the weather in the high-40’s. In f-ing Florida. We tried to play basketball yesterday, but blame the weather on our inability to even sum up that ole-childhood competitiveness that still finds itself in out-of-shape corners (read: Galaga. Current high score, asqueen - 134320).

It’s cold, Tim’s still at about 70% and there’s sadly nothing to do here. I know, right? Panama City, Spring Break! etc. Nothing. It’s a seasonal town, so beware.

Wait - this whole post sounds bored, and I’m not. I enjoy the downtime, seriously. We’re up at a decent hour, eating well, going to bed around midnight, it’s great.

I think I’m just on the bleh end of things as I’m not writing as much as I should be…I need a schedule, I think. But that entails planning.

And planning, well…

[Update]

Okay, so that post bored me to death (thank goodness for Tim’s ignoring FDA warnings or it would have been a wash), so I decided to race this Simply Sleep (non-habit forming, my ass) and add some girth to it, with…

Rules of The Bus!

Now, there’s a good chance that some of ya’ll will be joining us at some point, so you should know a few things about life in the O’Sisney Pub.

1. Take your shoes off - now, T&R are the nicest people in the world and I can tell they don’t like having to pass this on, so I will. Take ‘em off.

2. You have to sit down to pee-pee - while it’s an insanely large bathroom for a bus, it’s still situated in that…erm, spraying can occur. Which is not nice for anyone.

3. It’s also an Asian toilet in that toilet paper goes in the bin as not to clog up the hose that Tim has to empty and I keep promising to learn how to empty but always end up napping.*

4. No drinking before noon**

5. No drinking before working out/yoga***

6. No asking - so, ‘Can I have some chips/a beer/some moisturizing lip balm?’, just take - if it’s not on this list of rules, then it’s allowed.

7. Please realize that pictures do not do the size of this bus. It’s massive - plan accordingly.

…and that’s it. A small price to pay for the most amazing way to travel.

*First pass can be thrown in toilet

** Unless you’re hungover and can make a mean Bloody Mary for the entire group

***Please - a few days ago the ‘Angry Gorilla’ Pilates move went horribly wrong - much in due part to an Amaretto Sour.

They went to bed early, but not before pulling up ‘The Darjeeling Unlimited’ on the big screen for me - along with the all important pre-short (which features a nude Natalie Portman!).

I watched with a different eye, this film I wrote about digging long before I ever got the chance to go to India. The opening scene, which I fell in love with (’King of the slo-mo shots’, Tim commented, before heading to the back of the bus where their bedroom lies), which just so happened to be the one I pulled into after my ‘bhang lassi’ nightmare.

I had been there.

I had been there.

While some places that you occasionally see in film bring back a quick smile, or immediate street-cred, this one was different. I was lucky enough to have been warned by many of the sub-continent, one of the pearls being from a friend who ‘hated every minute of it until she got back home and then she wished she was back’ which resonated the entire time this Wes Anderson masterpiece played to a captive audience of one.

I had been there.

I smoked outside and took a quick survey around. I was in New Orleans. With a classmate who I attended 8th grade with and no more. I was broke, but, if I didn’t mention it from time-to-time, you’d think just the opposite.

‘Absurd’ is the word I choose to use, only because it carries such unknown luck, but that can’t be it. No one deserves this much - certainly not me. I’m a nice guy, but could have been a lot nicer. A caring son - but one who left the minute he was able to. A citizenship of many suffering, yet I show up and not only have a job producing, but others which might very well take me to different countries very, very soon. Free trips to Berlin and people along the way who go out of their way to have me in their homes. I live in an expensive bus that tours the best our country has to offer driven by friends who make sure I’m fed, have enough to drink, and then some.

Absurd needs to stop being a catch-phrase and start being a realization that I am in the middle of something that was misplaced.

You don’t get a lot of sleep when there are 5 people on the bus. But you do get a lot of laughs. Sleep you can find anywhere, so it’s a fair enough trade. All of us except Tim, who’s been fighting off something for the past few days, got up early. Robin, Kate and I dropped off Collin to go try and quickly download an iPhone app for his golf (in)ability before playing 18 and we headed over to the Lower 9th Ward, which is - if you don’t know - the hardest hit area of Katrina.

Ironic that only a few nights ago we were discussing Alan Weisman’s ‘The World Without Us‘, as the grounds that once waged the one-sided war of nature vs. man were basically that. Wastelands. Something out of an art house film. What once housed the most concentrated population of poverty now simply held sadness. ‘X’s’ on doors denoting who came out alive and who didn’t. The realization that the walls who’s shade dwarfed us were only a few years ago submerged.  It was suffocating - despite the efforts of many to make something out of the ashes. One of those was another art installation of Prop 1, an ark made out of the debris [photo, below]. The other was Brad Pitt’s ‘Make It Right’ project - amazing in theory, but whoever allowed the early 80’s wave and pastel colors might want to realize it looks to some as a child intentionally spilling applesauce down their shirt in order for the neighbors to question his parent’s cleanliness. We drove around a few more areas, stopped for some charity vintage shopping at an amazing German couples home, but had to leave. Places like this, Auschwitz, S-21, etc, are important to take-in, but too much time there can sour your view against everything. Add to this the ‘Disaster Tour’ buses piling by, and more people taking photos of the levies than Jackson Square these days and it just gets…thick.

Now - the thing about Louisiana is that, yes, it’s been cold (40’s), but with this + humidity means amazing light and cloudless skies. So we picked up a cup of Chicory (Collin claimed it was more of a 4pm drink, but we did it anyway), split a muffuletta and just bummed in-and-out of the quaint little shops off of French Street. A mandatory drink in our favorite bar, Flanaagan’s and we said ‘goodbye’ to Kate and Collin, originally planning on seeing them tomorrow, but eager to take off these layers and find a nice cozy place in Key Largo, we’ll leave in the morning.

See ya, N’Awlins. You’re a good town, but still a bit heavy for me…

[Note: I would like to point out I nabbed one of the best photos of my life a few years back here. Worth a peek!]

[Note #2: I would also like to thank the nice Canadian couple to our right who calmly suggested that I 'might be in the wrong R.V.' as I, along with Guinness, the large black lab who went barreling into their home at 3-to-midnight, instead of shooting me.]

My new friend Erin has been recently inspired. By what, we don’t know - but she’s one of those who should be inspired. You’ll soon see, ’cause she promised to document her newest inspirational outcomings.

And - to celebrate her new fires, I totally had to share what she shared with me, as this might be greatest-thing-ever-uploaded-to-YouTube. Ever. I kid you not. And if you read this blog, you know how much I love YouTube.

It gets better as the more employees take part…oh, I want to say so much more, but just…please. Watch it.

You’re welcome. Thank Erin.

We needed a quiet day - seriously.

While I only speak for myself, last night was somewhat of a rude awakening, as while at Cooter Browns, Collin brought over a round of drinks and I, after taking a sip of mine, chastised him for not making sure my Jack & Coke was made strong enough. ‘It’s a double’ he said, half-laughing.

I haven’t even been here half-a-week.

We all woke up, Tim and Collin both ill from whatever it was we ate last night (culprits being fried catfish, fried soft-shell crab, fried shrimp, raw oysters or the fixings), and didn’t make it out of the bus until around 2pm where we then headed back to Magazine Street, one of the better lesser-known spots of town. With this being the final free few days of Prop 1, an all-city art collective, the chance to do something other drink was well-recieved.

Now - I hate art. Sounds strange as I surround myself by artists and was even once a partner in an art studio, I really do. Maybe because it’s not meant to be understood (which makes it crap) or when it is, is considered crap. And then there are the people who talk about art - these should be kicked. Don’t even get me started on performance art.

I walked around the Warehouse District while the others ‘absorbed’ (or, whatever you do), smoked and took photos. They ended up outlasting me and I went in. It wasn’t bad. The most interesting piece asked ‘what kind of house does a man who has lived in a 6′X9′ box for over 30 years dream of?’. Actually worth a read - if for only the Black Panther toilet. We’re going to go tomorrow to try and find Brad Pitt’s housing project.

This kind of ‘art’ I enjoy. So I don’t ‘hate’ art, just the David Lynch-y art.

After that strolled around the northern part of the Quarter (for those sick of the Girls Gone whatever scenes), buying Tom Olives and taking in the bipolar neighborhoods in-and-around Bourbon Street.

Dinner? Red Beans and Rice from…(wait for it)…Popeyes. Collin claimed they do the best (along with the biscuits) so we followed. He was right and here we all lay. Bellies full of $1.39 goodness and ‘Blazing Saddles’ on the big screen.

Sometimes, you just need nights like this - even when you’re retired.

[Photo of Collin confirming my claims of 'excess']