....and not coming back.I don't know who even bothers to read this anymore. I haven't had anything to say recently anyway. But there have been some big changes.
Today is my 42nd birthday. Two months ago I sold most of my possessions, gave away most of my clothes, and threw away or burned everything else and moved from Oklahoma City to Los Angeles. Everything I own fits in my truck with 488,000 miles on it and a cracked windshield. My motorcycle, good tools, guns, a few clothes, camera, computer, the blanket my sister made for me, and all my money in cashiers checks. My life had degraded so much, that I was hardly recognizable to my friends, what few of them I even saw anymore. I left in the middle of the afternoon on a weekday. Didn't take a look around, didn't say goodbye to anybody, didn't even turn on the radio until I was past Amarillo. Less then a handful of people even knew I was leaving, but nobody knew when. I slipped out of town unnoticed and most likely, unmissed. The attached picture was sent out via text message as I reached the California border. I came here without a definate plan and without anything specific in mind, except leaving behind the misery.
California has been good to me. I've got a great job. I've gained some weight back. I'm learning to surf, I bought some new clothes and got a decent haircut. I've made some friends, the people here seem to like my way of talking and my sense of humor, which I have recently rediscovered. I used to be the funniest guy any of my friends knew, they told me that all the time. The weather here is perfect everyday. I sleep on the back porch some nights. I'm a regular at Angels games, people give me tickets all the time and I have caught two foul balls so far. I go to the beach often. Huntington is closest, but I prefer Newport, which is only 15 minutes away. On Sunday I usually ride the bike. Sometimes to Malibu, sometimes up the canyons and into the mountains, sometimes to Hollywood to harass the maniacs. I don't feel like a tourist here, and I have yet to meet an asshole. Maybe I just don't give them a chance to be assholes.
People have called wondering where I am. They are shocked when I tell them. I don't know why. I spent years being a good friend to people in Oklahoma. I helped you people move when you asked, I watched your dogs when you went on vacation, I cut your grass when your mower was broken. I drove you home when you were drunk and called me at 2am. I can honestly say I never refused a friend, whether you needed money, a strong back, a tool, advice, a ride, something to eat, or anything else you dreamed up. And then I fell down.... and nobody was there to help. You saw me lose 40 pounds in 5 months and never asked me over to dinner. You saw my sunburned and weather beaten face. You knew I was alone and didn't ask if I wanted company. I guess you just assumed that I was a smart guy who had money and would just figure it out on my own. So I did. I got sick of feeling sorry for myself and wishing my life was different, and I did something about it. Some of you have even said I had guts to do it and that there was no way you could have done the same thing. Your probably right.
There are things I miss. And the people that I am missing are still on my mind. But I am doing good. I like it here, and it likes me. I work my ass off and get paid well. But then, I've never really had a problem making money, have I? I do my best everyday, and my best is way better than most everybody else's best, as it has been all my life in everything I've chosen to do. I can't imagine that I will die anywhere except for Texas, so I will be leaving here some day. But for now and the forseeable future, I am here. So if you read this, and you want to come see me... come on out... whenever you want. My number is still the same and you can call me whenever you want. You might be surprised at what you find on the other end of the line.
