Los Angeles at 22 Act I...

My minds been on overdrive and I lack the ability to capture any original thought, but in order to keep this going I'm going to tell a story. The story also happens to be true. Being someone who is all about the flow, hopefully this will demonstrate what I mean by that.

So, there I was 22 years old, in a very naive, adventurous and altruistic point in life. I'd been reading books about near death experiences and past lives; woke up one day and decided it made sense to book a trip to L.A. and have a past life regression session with a woman who wrote one of the aforementioned books. With a rather stringent budget I sifted orbitz.com and found an affordable flight and hotel and away I went.

Things I didn't know:

• Los Angeles is huge
• There are some very shady parts of Los Angeles
• Cab Drivers in these parts of LA may or may not be snorting cocaine from a necklace as they transport you.
• Cabs in LA are extremely expensive and potentially life threatening (see previous bullet)

Oh well, so I slept on top of yesterdays clothing in the scariest hotel I could imagine at the time, woke up with the sunshine and took a cab anxiously to the woman's office to find out about my past lives. It was certainly nothing like I expected. I found out the following:

1. I was an orphan boy somewhere in England many many many years ago. Family members and friends were characters in the plot. I died of starvation when my sister (my brother now) and I fled the orphanage, she was younger and I gave her all the food I stole.
2. I was some sort of rabbi or religious figure many many many years ago. I abused power. I was beheaded in public, by a man who is now my father.

I could elaborate, but I will save the interesting deets and ponderings for L.A. at 22 Act Deux.

When it was over, I told the woman I wanted to go to the ocean. She said she would drop me off at the Pier and that I could make my way back, considering my orphan past life history, I was scrappy and it should be no problem. We picked up her 2 little ankle biter dogs at the cleaners (random) and she let me off seaside. 

It had turned cloudy and a bit chilly. Walking on the sand, my tenny's filling with sand, up to the pier I went. At the end was the obligatory restaurant. The waitress took me to a table, I ordered a beer and sat listening to the obnoxious table behind me. My back turned towards them was symbolic in that in these times my patience for the superfluous was astoundingly short. 

Luv U Jenefer, Gary A. Lee SPIDER

Heading back down the pier, I stopped and looked down at the water and lit a cigarette. A ragged older man with silver hair, few teeth, worn army boots and a back pack was seated on the bench nearby. He looked over, I asked if he wanted a cigarette. He didn't smoke. I asked him where he was from, he said "Boston." I said, "How did you end up here?" He said, "I came here looking for my girlfriend Jennifer Cole." I was startled and said, "that's my name," as I pulled out my ID to make sure I still had it. 

It turns out there's a porn star named Jennifer Cole, and this man was an ex-Hell's angel who went by the name of Spider. His real name, Gary Lee. He was a bit nuts, I confess. But we walked the Pier and he told me he used to be an artist. I asked why he didn't buy a notebook and start drawing to sell like so many others around. He didn't respond, he had some sort of tick. We drank a beer and I bought him some mini-donuts. It started to get dark and I had that eery sense that things were about to turn. And they did. He leaned in and tried to bite me in the neck. I backed away and said I needed to hit the bathroom and fled the scene just as the only cab I'd seen all day pulled up.

Okay, so this first example didn't exactly 'end' well, but I'll never forget the experience. I wound up with a unicorn drawing on an old receipt, which has started to fade, and a wooden camel, which I still have somewhere. The point being it was far more meaningful to me and my world of experiences than if I had stayed silent in the restaurant listening to a group of my peers jabber on about celebrities and other meaningless dribble.

Onward! This is getting much longer than I expected. 

The next day I awoke with the notion that I would spend all day trying to get to the airport. (this was a short and purposeful trip) I had $50. A cab from the hotel would cost upwards of $70. Knowing the direction of the freeway; I resolved to walk all the way to the freeway, where I should be able to get a cab for about ~$35.

Backpack on, shoes tied up and 4 miles later I stopped, sat on the sidewalk and lit up a smoke. I couldn't even see the freeway from where I was. How the hell am I going to get to the airport?

You'll find out, assuming you want to. I've run out of steam. To Be Continued, Act Deux...