Buy The Ticket, Take The Ride

Buy The Ticket, Take The Ride

I was going to wait until Monday, but inventory is next week, and talking to Al and Bob, I figured I should get out before then. So my last day will be next Wednesday.

I was presented with two more waiting lists at the music store last night. One for piano students, one a different list for guitar I hadn't seen before. There's around 15 names. If even a few of them still are interested, I'm happy. I filled one spot that opened up last week already. It's looking good.

I'll have to have a "day job" still, but it can be part time. And qutting the warehouse is not quitting the temp agenecy. My immediate plan is to go back to them the day after I leave and see about some of those short-term jobs that they seemed so fond of giving me last summer. Then, that drove me batshit, didn't work me enough, and helped me max out a credit card because I wasn't making enough money. Now, it might just be exactly what I need.

Wow. Suddenly my income will be based on music with the other shit on the side, rather than the other way around. This is good for my mental health.

I'm moving forward. I've been in some kind of healing process since March, and it hasn't always been fun, but hey, sometimes it's been a HELL of a lot of fun. And this job has run its course. All part of the process of building my life back up again.

I wonder what Jenny's reaction will be. I'll kinda miss her. Not much, I don't think. As incredibly strongly as I felt towards her just seven months ago, I gave up on any chance in hell with her a while back, and have my head elsewhere, because I have to. She still has the most amazing smile though.

Read Screwjack. It's only 59 pages. Uncle Hunter, what the FUCK was up with you? The first of three pieces is Mescalito, written during his first mescaline expericne, and funny as hell.

Death Of A Poet is about a trailer-living wife-beating friend finally going over the edge. Twisted shit.

Then there's Screwjack itself, a fucking bizarre little vignette about Raoul Duke and his...uh...pussy-cat. It's absolutely Hunter, but it's so left-field I'm still trying to figure out what the fuck THAT weird animal-fuckery shit was about.

Fun book. Not for first-time buyers. Definitely for the hardcore fans. Just remember that it's very short, so the $15 hardcover price seems a bit silly when you can read the damn thing in half an hour or less. I got mine half-price.

He's my major inspiration right now. I'm not interested in the actual behavior described in his books, that's fucking insane. But the sense of FREEDOM there is what I need and crave. I'm a lightweight, my goals are hardly that far out there. But I want to feel that sense of cutting my own path, my own way. I'm nothing special, I just don't want to be like most of the people I've ended up around, clinging blandly onto a "life" that anyone with a sense of adventure would be bored shitless by. When the highlight of your day is a trip to Wal-Mart for bottled water...well, you figure it out.

Time to go. I'm making the next step today. I'll buy the ticket, take the ride. Even if I fuck it all in the ass, why not?

Love,
Dougie

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