Driving Japanese oh yes I'm driving Japanese i really think so.....

   I took a job driving around a Japanese film crew for a week. A Sunday evening prime time show in Japan where the host travels around the world doing crazy challenges. One show he swam with sharks, another he wrestled a bear...in this episode he would be halo jumping. Halo jumping is sky diving from twice as high as people normally do it. Usually people jump from 15,000 ft and this is from 30,000. It's so high that one has to wear an oxygen mask. There's a place outside of Somerville that does this kind of jumping, which is usually done by military. Apparently only 100 or so civilians have halo jumped. Would I ever do it? Even if it meant being a famous TV show host? Traveling the world, eating filet mignon and lobster and boning whoever I wanted to? Hard to say. I'd like to say yes, but I'm just fucking terrified of heights. But perhaps I'm more afraid of working my shit job for the rest of my life and always struggling. Yeah, I'd jump. To live that guy's lifestyle? I'd fucking jump.
   I picked up the van at 8:30 am and set off to Knoxville to pick up the crew. As I pulled out of Memphis I felt all my stress and worries wash off of me. I realized that I never feel more complete and alive as when I'm traveling. Something about being in between destinations and situations. You can't worry about what you just left behind because there's nothing you can do about it but change your outlook. You can't worry about what's in front of you because it could be anything...the possibilities endless. The scenery is warm and familiar, never changing because it is ever changing. Every truck stop and gas station you swear you've been in before and you look for evidence that you were there. Maybe there'll be a faded Pezz sticker in the bathroom. We used to carry a stack with us everywhere and leave our mark as we went.
   It made me miss the touring life and the ability to hit the road for a long stretch. I guess I really don't have many roots, but there's always too little money or a vehicle that just doesn't work right. I first fell in love with the road when my brother took me to Yellowstone when I was 13. There was still a restraining order put on him by my parents after they had me locked up in the psychiatric hospital. They wanted to believe that he was a bad influence on me, when really it was their failures as people that caused trouble in my life. My brother saved me from a life of conformity, mediocrity and spiritual emptiness. I owe everything I am to him. While my parents gave me life he showed me the path to spiritual discovery. Our road trip west was a big "fuck you" to our parents and it was my first real taste of peace and freedom.
   I went out again after high school. This time with Stacy and we spent a month camping and hiking. I had a taste of enlightenment on that trip, had a bear brush past our tent in the night and happened across two of our friends on a busy crowded street in Eugene OR that had left Memphis at the same time as us, but taken a different route, the odds of which are staggering.
   And then there were the tours. I would give anything to be able to spend 3 months out on the road right now with my closest friends, sleeping on floors and fighting over music. I used to get a sort of home sickness when I was out, but i get the feeling it would be gone now. I understand who I am a lot more. I understand it's in my blood to wander, as evidence by this feeling of peace. It's incredible when you realize who you are and finally accept it.When we were out I used to wonder whether what we were doing had merit and meaning, but the things I learned on the road was worth a thousand college degrees, a thousand committed relationships and all the stability in the world.
   We rode sometimes with no A/C in the brutal desert heat. We played to empty bars and to sold out clubs. We played bait shops, ran through corn fields and ate purple potatoes. We stayed with crazy people...New Mexico girls that went through our pockets in the night, skinny dipping in Kansas, driving Shawn to the hospital in Germany and getting stopped at a roadblock. We slept in an old SS barracks and refused to sleep where a junkie girl had died. We ate out of trash dumpsters and got fed gourmet meals. We fell in love at every show, survived a Nazi attack in Poland, babysat Wesley Willis, stayed at Jello Biafra's and every night we played our hearts out.


   The Driving job for the Japanese went OK. I drove the "talent" van. The Hosts and their assistants and the producers. The one person in my van that spoke English was a producer that lived in New York and she was beautiful. The female host of the show was stunning as well, but I never made any attempt with either of them. I just kept my eyes on the road.


   I think I'm just in love with the feeling of moving forward. You can't digress as long as you have a horizon that you're pushing towards. I think I would be miserable waking up to the same four walls everyday and toiling for the rest of my life. I haven't settled yet and wonder if I ever will. I'd like to leave my options open for the ultimate. Something tells me that everything I want can and will happen. It has so far. If I die tonight, I will have loved my life and been secure that I gave it everything I had. I have no regrets and no excuses. If I get the opportunity to jump if it means living the life I see in my dreams? Yep, I'll fucking jump.