My day off. I set out walking down El Segundo Blvd. toward the ocean, with swim trunks on under my regular outfit with bowler hat. Stepping past the industrial Revchron refinery, I decided to call a relative who works at Revchron HQ with a mock inspection report. He didn’t answer, so I left messages with the machine, all in the voice of an oil tycoon, of course. The first called for 50% biodiesel in Revchron diesel products, created from agricultural surplus. The second message, delivered from the beach, referred Santa Barbara County’s fossil free by 2033 plan for an all-biodiesel fleet. The last mentioned the ‘big iron’ ship floating out on the ocean… filled with a bubblin’ crude, I’d reckon ~ I declared it a cryin’ shame to ship it all the way here when there’s enough french fry grease in the LA Basin to power the entire State! Well, we’ll see how it all goes over… Peeling off my street clothes and stuffing it all into the bowler, I waded out and dove into the ocean, swimming and meeting each wave one by one. Venturing further, a surprise big wave caught and carried me quite a distance. Bracing my arms for protection from what seemed a sharp drop and good pummeling against the sandy bottom, instead rigid limbs became hydroplane foils which suspended me skidding along as the wave pushed me all the way in to the shallows. After a quick run to the pier and back, I was on the street - dripping wet, wearing trunks, with all else wrapped inside the bowler. Back at base I had some time to freshen up, relax, and prepare for a big night out…
Now, going back to remember Monday is a bit difficult. What I do remember are the dreams during the fourteen hour sleep on the couch after speaking with CH on the phone. The last thing in my follow-up email to her was, ’sweet dreams.’ My dreams that night were horrific, first a scene in which I tried to prevent someone from committing suicide as she climbed high up on the roof above. In the next dream I was fighting to defend a child by slamming an attacker in the head with a wooden rod as they stood unaffected… Each time I gathered up the strength to strike, it had the same feeble result - exactly none, except the abductor turned his head slightly to one side. Today we worked in Hawthorne, the location closest to our El Segundo base, and the closest I got to the spot where Paris Chitlin is incarcerated. I don’t remember much about the day or that anything of note occurred that evening. Mondays are our Fridays, so release from work signaled the all clear… Time for a bit of laundry? I think so.
Saturday night and off to the party after receiving an invite from HL with the tag: ‘hope to see you there.’ The Big Blue bus went straight to the location; I took a quick visit at the bushes along a darkened street, ordered a #2 meal at McSpongle’s, and meandered on over to the warehouse, there clunking down $10 and entering to the sounds of breakbeats. Soon afterward, a vanguard dancer whirled by and bent over to smack the dancefloor with both hands, warming it up for the night’s trials. The back patio featured an open tent, some workshop tables, and an oblong silver caravan trailer next to a small campfire. We ended up chatting there with some friends of Single Cell Miguel, the top DJ on the night. ME suddenly interjected - she was on a spoken word tour of the West, and overheard our mention of San Francisco, the location she would travel to the next day. She gathered some recommendations, including parks, a ferry ride, and a trip to City Slights for some spoken word history. Then I was off to the restroom. After what seemed like a long wait, I peeked in through the window and saw a couple writhing and kissing, reflected through the steamy mirror in there. Thinking they may be a while, I defected to the women’s room and experienced a nice laissez-faire reception. The excellent breaks brought out the dancers, who teased and tantalized - the hula hoop showdown held particular fascination, as swaying hips, waists, shoulders and necks kept the hoops rotating and disbelief suspended. Superb night.
The southward trek continued on; only a couple of cars were encountered while winding along Lincoln to the air traffic towers and spinning radar arrays of LAX. I entered the airport on foot, continuing along walkways to a tunnel which lead under the runway to the El Segundo hotel. A sign next to the tunnel ahead read, ‘no pedestrian or bike traffic.’ Meanwhile, about ten airport police milled about their polished motorcycles. !! Choking back a curse and nonchalantly turning to walk the other way, I continued in the other direction as a steady stream of aircraft dropped out of the sky ahead. Finally able to wheel the corner to turn ninety degrees at the edge of the runway, I headed south again - the sun began to rise as I continued along the runway border. Then, suddenly - sensing the familiar green print of US currency and inspecting for triple digits, I, without stopping, lunged down and picked up - a Benji; yes, then again beholding: $100! Benjammin! This lifetime luck is something I could get used to! Spirits were high upon reaching the Aviation Blvd. Green Line Metro platform and the hotel. There was still an hour to nap, shower and shave before heading back out for another day of work with Hellness.
Realizing the last bus departed an hour ago, suddenly I had all the time in the world, or at least until the morning bus at five am. I started out south, striding to Venice. Ducking past the hideous 
The other night I went with MM over to the West Side; he invited me to the concert at El Pay, but alas it was sold out - so he dropped me off among the ’20s-style A-frame houses, and I boarded the Westbound 20 down Wilshire toward the water. As the on-board screen flashed news and arts gossip, I dialed my friends on the cell phone, checking in. Each was happy to hear from me, but busy with something else; they gave me a few sentences and then moved to get off the phone. At Santa Monica, I cavorted along the 3rd Street Promenade, then stopping to grab a small cup of coffee. The barista remarked that she liked my bowler hat, saying it has ‘attitude.’ I chuckled and continued south on Main Street to the Irish pub Finn McDrool’s. The hardwood and Celtic designs in this place warmed me, somehow making me feel at home. A perousal of the menu located what I was hoping for, McDrool’s grilled ’salmon of knowledge’ along with a couple of non-alcoholic beers. The acoustic band played at the next table - when they broke into a rendition of ‘Daniel My Brother’ I simply had to call my bro to play the music for his answering machine. He picked up, and we shouted out a conversation just as if we were at a crowded bar together. When the conversation was complete, a young lady with her blonde hair tied in a pony tail asked, ‘Do you mind if I sit here?’ ‘Not at all - have a seat’ was the reply. She sat there playing with her phone for a while. No one joined her, so when the band took a break, the lapse in the noise was the time to ask if she had friends she was meeting. ‘No. I just wanted to go out…’ she said. We ended up having a nice chat which resulted in receiving her card with consent to meet in the future for a beach visit. I left hurriedly, to make it back to Fourth Street to catch the last bus back to El Segundo.
This morn I awoke on the bus in Bakersfield, with dreams from the night before reminiscent in my head. I’d been with some friends at a coffee shop someplace like Boulder, Colorado. Some laughing and drunken commotion drew our attention to a table nearby, and a giddy young lady proceeded to fall out of her chair and hit her head with a soft ‘thump’ on the pavement. As she fell her school girl skirt flew up, revealing her nakedness… well! So, the birds chirp merrily as I sit outside on the van and trailer, connected to the Internet via the WiFi at the nearby RV park. It’s been a while since I’ve been on the road! This time, ten years later, access to technology is pervasive. From chatting on the free evening minutes while barreling though the State on the train, to just connecting to open wireless hot-spots from within suburban residences, it’s easy to stay in contact using just the cellphone and computer. It appears that the SoCal leg of the trip may work out, although logistically the distances of LA will make it trying. But if IÂ stay near the Hellness team and travel with them just about everywhere, I should do all right. I even heard that the bus will eventually be going to Portland and Seattle, and I’m invited to join them at that time. The timing is perfect - I was planning to be there and have good connections - I should be able to get a fair amount of work in during the next weeks, beefing up the coffers for trips to Europe and the San Juan Islands. 
The next day had me proclaiming ‘San Rafael is it!’ SM dropped me downtown, and I bobbed along Fourth Street, popping in and out of coffee shops until finally finding the one with free wireless. There I sat down to a proper cup of coffee and negotiated three weeks working with a bus tour in Southern California. After checking the time and packing up the laptop, I circled the block and reached a location near the Mission to work a half-day as a ‘Stand-In Actor.’ That is, we would run through scenes, but just to find the correct placement and movement for the real scenes, to occur later with ‘Real Actors.’ Although I expected a theater show, it was instead for a feature film. A group of about fifteen people gradually arrived, gaining friendliness and soon generating a fun mood in the place. Next characters were assigned, and due to the casting agent’s suggestion, I was cast as Ray, The Artist. We ran through scenes, doing one or two trial runs and then - ‘action.’ The setting was an art gallery during my art opening, and both the characters and actors were chatting it up and flirting away - a good time to be sure, and a great way to earn the cash for a burrito authentico down the block.
Today ended up bit of a trial - the little one was not eager to cooperate with anything we suggested, or even anything that occurred incidentally. When she made a pouty face at the sight of a butterfly, I knew we were in for a rough one. The schedule was a bit disrupted, as SP’s Mom conceded and ended up going along with us. After dropping Mom off at Inkwoes, I drove down Bridgeway to 
Travel to 
