So we've got one week to go. We're gonna see a Dukes game, probably hit Los Cuates one of these nights (I think we'll take Deborah and her friend when they come through.), have drinks with Michelle and Kenn and basically get everything ready to go. I'm still not sure what to expect when we get down to Florida, but I'm realizing that no matter what, we're doing this. I'm starting to feel it now. Not really scared, but anxious. I'm ready to get past all this emotional shit and get to the nails and bolts. "Useless Stuff" by Cracker is a theme song.
June 18, 1996
(photo-a sunset; this is where we should have known we were screwed)Aaron did come up with a nice line last night while we were baked and talking pseudo-philosophy last night: "My self-awareness has increased 50% since I started talking to myself." Doesn't help with the Chip thing, though.
Today, I haven't been laughing as much. Jon called and said that Chip wants to give up on the Internet Radio station idea and start a record store. He's been reading a bunch of articles that say the Internet is a bust and no one should try to do anything with it because you'll lose your shirt. Even the new Beck didn't exactly get me out of that slump. I'm hoping the Dukes game does a bit more. This is just totally fucked up, and I really don't understand. We're moving down there anyway (we basically have no choice). Aaron was just like, "I didn't decide to move to Florida to work at a record store." Who knows what'll happen. This is just a big curve ball in the bottom of the ninth for us. So far we're swinging like wild men, hitting thin air.
June 19, 1996
(photo-somewhere in Texas)Somewhere along the line we decided not to do the safe and mundane. We thought a better thing to do would be experimental, risky and wildly creative. I really hope that isn't the difference we're talking about here. I hope this is what Aaron calls a "case of cold feet." The latter we can get over. If our problem is that Chip doesn't have the stomach to reach out and touch destiny, we've got to find someone else who can. You can't change someone from a safe person into a risk taker. People are born one way or another. I know, this is a very weird argument. For some reason (that I can't quite figure out even now), I thought that Lies was gonna work and I kept pushing at it until now it's beginning to. It's taken a year and a half, but we're getting there. I think that this Internet Radio thing has a quicker potential. It works right in with what the Internet is: It's suppressed information (songs and groups regular radio won't play), it's freedom of speech, it's wild and fun. But Internet stuff now is too much of the same shit--that's why I think this could be huge. It's why a lot of places would want to write about it, hence we can get the listeners and we should get the advertisers. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I'm not moving to Florida to work in a fucking record store.
Jon called not long after I finished writing the last entry. He said that no matter what, we'll get the radio station going. He said that if he had to, he'd take out a 50 grand loan and we'd pump the fucker up. But, somehow, I think we can make this work. This is the case of Chip having most of the money and freaking out about losing it all. I don't think he understands you have to lose it all, go below the line and eat dirt to get back to the surface before you can really make it. I'm almost back to the surface and I can see how good it all looks from this place. Aaron doesn't mind (well, that's a little off hand, but it works for this) losing ten grand--it's the process, trying it, doing it. That's the good stuff. Losing is good because you understand how to win from it. This is some stupid ass philosophy I'm pushing down right now. Jon is still freaking out. We were on the phone for almost an hour and it was mostly him going over and over and over the same shit he's been going over and over and over for the last 12 hours. I had to be comic relief almost. I guess he went out with Barbara and some friends and they finished off a bunch of wine, and Jon didn't get drunk. Hence, he needed to let off even more steam. This is just a speed bump. It rocks the hell out of the car, but we gotta keep driving--Jesus, who's writing this shit? I think I need to get off the computer. Got a request for ad prices tonight (for Lies). Always good. End on an upper, I guess.
June 21, 1996
(photo-somwhere in Louisiana)It's the first day of summer and we're back on track again, apparently. Aaron came to Gardeno's (where I was having drinks with Michelle and Kenn) and said Jon had called while we were out. One media advertising company said no way to ads because we didn't have 5 million listeners. Two others, however, said they had companies that would be interested in advertising with us. This made Chip feel better about it all, and they're getting stuff rolling again. Just bizarre happenings in that hot state of Florida. And we're gonna be there soon. Here, well, I've been packing up the shit. Throwing a lot of stuff away as well. We gave blood on Wednesday and the ladies there had problems finding our veins. Aaron got hacked up the most. It looks like a really fucked up junkie tried to jack him up with some shit. I'm not as bad. It didn't even bruise up as bad as it has before. People ask us why we do this since we always get messed up with it. I think the biggest thing in my mind is that a little extra blood production is good. It cleans out the system a bit.
So Michelle gave me a bottle of Red Chile Wine. I'm not supposed to drink it until we get to Florida. Very cool to have friends with money who feel they need to give gifts. She's doing well, I think. I'm glad. She had such a shitty time with men for a while there [she is married, but the official ceremony takes place on Feb. 1, 1997--the day I turn 25]. Kenn is working as usual. I think he would be a great interview guy for a music magazine, he's pretty knowledgeable about things. Anyway, we watched a couple of movies yesterday after drinking. Ace Ventura (the first one) and Eric the Viking. Very strange movies. Neither of them are really funny (Ace is like an adolescent's version of the world, with the hero being wacky and over the top. There's also the whole gay thing, which is pretty psycho.), but Eric was interesting in the way they dealt with religion and belief. The one Christian saves the day because he can't see all of the Norse gods everyone else believes in. Weird.
Steve is pulling away. I think he realizes that he's not going to be a part of what we're going to, so he's getting on with his life. Probably the best thing, it's just strange. I don't know if he's decided that we're not friends anymore or if this is his way of saying good-bye. Of course, ours isn't much better. I assume I'm going to see everyone again, and when I end up not, I just kinda forget about it. Although I do believe I will see a few of these people again. And they'll definitely see me. This has never been an issue with me, the issue is always when. The when is coming soon.
June 24, 1996
(photo-somewhere in Mississippi)Just a short note here. We're packing the truck today, Deborah may stop by. I'm breaking down the computer after I finish this. I'm ready to get the fuck out of here. I think the extra week was about three days too long, but no matter. We're ready to go, feeling good. Mom and Dad's car was stolen last night (not the Suburban), which is the second time for that vehicle. Maybe they'll find it once again like they did before. It's not that nice a car. Anyway, everything is once again proceeding as it should. Chip is once again on board for the radio station, and the rest of us are sleeping better. Our night on the town ended with large bong session at Lucas' which left Aaron puking outside a while later. Appropriate maybe. I'm past sentimentality now. I'm ready to be gone. Maybe more on this later after we drive forever.
[Now in St. Petersburg, Florida] July 3, 1996
(photo-Chez Radio Unbound)And a little over a week later, I'm back on the computer again. We haven't gotten our stuff from the movers yet (it comes at 11 a.m. this morning), but we've been here [Florida] for about five and a half days or so. We just got into the house we're supposed to be living in (which was previously to be Chip and Todd's house) because they didn't get out until the first (yesterday) and we haven't gotten our shit yet. But we figured since we have to get up so early in the morning anyway, we should stay the night. That and I think we were getting on, at least, Barbara's nerves. We don't exactly live the same as everyone, which is something we already knew.
When I last typed anything, we thought Chip was back on board (and since it's so close to where I'm typing now, this is a pretty much direct quote) for the radio station. This, apparently, wasn't true. Jon thought that the prospect of advertising (and the mostly good responses) turned Chip around. This is not the case. Chip decided sometime while Aaron and I were trekking across the country that there was no way that it was going to work. Because of this belief, he doesn't want to do it. I think he's looking at everything from a financial position, rather than from a creative position. He's very into playing the stock market and such. So what happened is that we never had to try and convince Chip of anything, because he'd already stopped talking or discussing the whole situation. Very childish for a close-to-forty person. Anyway, so the thing now is that Chip is out (although still living with Todd) and we are going to start to try and find investors in the project next week. This week is the July 4 holiday (basically) and so it's hard to get anything done. That and we're still moving around and such.
So how was the big move, you ask? It cost us about 200 dollars more than we thought (although we did guess low) and the driving was just a little bit long and crazy going at times. I'd say the second day was the worst--although the first wasn't that much better. The third was quick and easy--which was nice. The night before leaving Albuquerque, Steve came home with his (supposed) girlfriend and they decided (even though, in truth, we were already drinking) that it was a really good time to have one of those late night Monday night parties. The celebration was, once again, that they had found some pot. So they started smoking and drinking, and Aaron and I continued what we were doing (watching movies). It was just strange because I think Steve said maybe two sentences to me that night and once walked over, squeezed my arm, and smiled like this was bonding man thing to do. Aaron (who was sleeping in his room in his sleeping bag) decided around one or so that he should sleep. I told Steve that I had to get to bed as well. So he and his girl went outside and talked till three. Now this doesn't seem so bad, except that I had to have the window open in the living room where I was sleeping because it was hot inside the house. So I was awake through that stupid conversation. And then Steve had to beg her for about fifteen minutes to stay ("I'll just sleep on the couch, don't go, I won't do anything, I'll just sleep on the couch..." etc.), which was just annoying. The thing was, I was sleeping on the couch in the living room and the one in the front room was covered with a bunch of shit (most of which was Steve's). Eventually she decided to stay, and they went in and out of the bathroom for another fifteen minutes as classical music blared from Steve's room. It would occasionally wake me up during the night because I could hear it easily through his door. They got up at eight. She practically ran out of house and Steve meandered around for about an hour before leaving. At least he turned off the stereo before he left, proving to me that he could always hear it, just that many times he thought he should have music going in the room for ambiance--even if he wasn't in the house.
The moving guy called about an hour and a half later (I had already given up on sleeping basically) and my day started. By the time we got into Arkansas, I was very tired. Aaron (who had gotten a regular night's sleep), was pissed that I couldn't go on further. The thing is, I think he was about as tired as I was, since his arguments to go on were more just frustration than common sense. We realized after that night that there was only so far we could go in a day. And that a good night's sleep really helps to drive a long distance.
Since we've been here in Florida, we've been to the beach four times. I got a lot of mail and haven't gotten through it all yet. Not much in the way of strategy or business has really transpired, but that's okay. This is still the period of adjusting. We helped move Chip and Todd yesterday and have to unload our shit tomorrow (although I don't think it'll take that long). The thing that will take the longest will be putting it all together again. All our boxes of shit into something that works as a living area. The house we are in has a small bug problem, a small plumbing problem and a large stove problem. The stove doesn't work much at all. But we do have a lot of room and everything is beginning to feel more real to me. Tonight we got stoned, which was nice for a little while, but since we had to sit on the couch Todd left for us, it was a confining stone. We couldn't quite reach out and grab everything. So it isn't all home yet. By the way, tonight is the first night we've been stoned since last Monday (24th of June)--a little over a week. Most of it was because I didn't think we should do it at Jon and Barbara's house. And also because I was having trouble with realizing I was hungry, tasting things, actually feeling that I was a living being. I was not totally there. I'm getting back though. It's beginning to get easier to go around town (although we do retrace our tracks quite a bit). I can't say everything feels right, but I do think we can stand this place for a while. I haven't really moved in quite some time.
The hardest thing was coming here and finding out that the radio station may not happen. We will know in a month whether or not we can get this thing going. After that, we may have to find jobs and work for a while, try and figure out where we want to go. Chip told Jon he thought me and Aaron were the dumbest people in the world for moving down here for the radio station. It only got really dumb when Chip decided to pull out at the last minute. If we had known about this, we wouldn't have moved. At least out of Albuquerque. Aaron could have gotten a job there. I could have gotten a job as well, and we'd be doing pretty good. We came down here because it seemed interesting and maybe a way to get around more freely in the world. To get noticed--even more than we already are. Maybe there's still a chance, but Aaron and I are also looking around for the next turn. We didn't see this one coming, and we don't want to get burned again.
Aaron mentioned tonight (out of the blue--although we were high) that there are people who don't even know me who think I'm cool. For him, he said, people had to get to know him before they could realize he was cool. But he said that people who don't even know me at all think I'm cool. It's strange. It doesn't seem like I really am in that position at all. Why the hell would anyone give a shit about me? I haven't done anything yet. And if people think I'm cool--how pathetic are their lives? Scary thought.
July 14, 1996The coolest thing that has happened lately is that we might have a backer (to the tune of around a quarter million dollars) for the project. Jon had a meeting on Friday (12th) with the guy and apparently it went pretty well. Other than that, we don't have anybody interested. Been writing people to make sure they knew what was going on, and maybe get back in touch with a few people. Went crazy at Goth night in Tampa and probably scared the hell out of people. Not much else though. Magazine is coming along slowly. Rah, rah.
August 21, 1996
(photo-sun in Texas)And over a month later, he's back. To say that things have changed would probably be an understatement. I've decided to work on this project under the name of The Shocking and Unexplained Death of RU-486. I'm working this out now, but there is still a chance of the radio station working--it just won't work with Aaron and I here. I don't have great hope for it working if nothing comes through by the end of the year, though--and the time is ticking away.
The first sign of problems at this house were probably the fleas, although that situation was taken care of pretty easily. I had red legs for about two weeks or so, though. Constant itching sucks. And either unhatched eggs have hatched or some are coming back. I may have to fog again, we'll see what happens. About three days after moving into this house, my car was broken into (they were able to unlock it, rather than break a window) and the radio was stolen [an my very cool sunglasses I've never seen anywhere else...I realized this later]. While it was a bit of a surprise and a shock (the thing may have gotten whoever stole it $20...or less), it wasn't a big thing, so I didn't worry about it. Besides, we were still in good spirits that everything would work out. I don't know if they were just lulling us into complacency or what, but nothing bad happened again until a week and a half ago on the 12th of August.
A couple of days before that, we had been out drinking with Jon, Barbara and Jill when Jon kind of depressingly let it slip that he wasn't very sure if the investor was going to come through with the money. He put our chances at 50/50, but his tone and everything else was very down. I think it was his mood at the time, but Aaron and I took it as a bad sign. A day later we smoked the rest of our pot. It was the last relatively calm night we would have for a while.
On the 12th, Aaron had decided he needed to find a part time job to fill his time and maybe make a little of the money lost from moving here. We had decided over the weekend that if nothing was promising by the first of September, we would begin making arrangements to move away. To say that we hated this place was, if anything, not much of an overstatement. He went out into the darkening skies (rain was coming) to check out a possible job near the beach as a cabana boy. He was back a few minutes later. Someone had bashed his passenger side window in and taken his stereo. It was soon discovered that my car had been unlocked again and the tape player I'd been using was taken as well. We cleaned up the mess, and I got soaked running from the garage to the house and back. Aaron went out in my car to do a few errands, and I talked to Steve on the phone (he called) for a bit, not in the best of moods. When Aaron got back, we began to hash out our time in St. Petersburg and came to the not so thrilling conclusion that everything we had tried to do while in this place had gone horribly wrong. The realization that Jon didn't know Chip well enough to see that he might do what he did was on our minds, as well as just a whole lot of frustration and resentment ready to strike out at anyone who crossed our path.
Into this situation came Jon, who had blown off our break-ins by saying we should get the landlord to put a door on the garage--which was something we didn't know we were supposed to do in the first place. He came over because Barbara was pissed that we were thinking about tagging along with them to see Trainspotting later that night (this was called off and we still haven't gotten around to seeing it). I think he wanted to get away from her ranting, not aware that we weren't in the best of moods. I was sending a not so nice e-mail to our parents about the whole situation when Jon came over. Aaron was about to start working on dinner (we were having spaghetti). What followed was about twenty minutes of Aaron yelling at Jon about how he fucked our lives up. Most of it was frustration, but another part of it was a need to see some sort of emotion on Jon's part. It seemed as though to us that he was taking all of these setbacks and problems in stride and not reacting to them at all--Aaron was afraid he had no soul. Aaron's main argument (other than "This just sucks!") was that not only did Jon not know his friends--he didn't have any real friends. He also said that he hated Jon--and about that time Jon finally broke down and showed some feelings. I tried to stop the direct assault and basically let Aaron work on the meal while I talked to Jon in a saner tone. Aaron would apologize the next day and everything would eventually be fine between the three of us. What it did do, however, was make Aaron and I realize that we didn't want to be in Florida anymore, or really even try to do the radio station anymore. Jon also realized that trying to continue a friendly relationship with Chip was not going to be possible. The whole thing had gotten way beyond business differences, things had gotten very personal. Not only was Chip just being a dick to us, but he was refusing to pay for many utilities that he and Todd used while they were living in this house for the first month. Which meant that Aaron had to pay for it, the whole thing just adding to the fire.
On Wednesday, the 14th, we had CDs ripped out of a package in our mailbox. On the 16th, my car was broken into again. This time they knocked off the key guard on my steering column (the ignition key), which makes it harder to start the car. They were, apparently, thinking about stealing the car this time, but either got scared, didn't think they could do it, or almost got caught by someone. I began parking on the street until yesterday when I picked up a Club. I assume this will deter them from trying to take the car, which is the second most valuable thing I own (the most being the computer--losing this would be pretty devastating, more in terms of writing and magazine operations than anything else).
While we have yet to see any indication that people might be thinking about breaking into the house (and it would be really hard to take things out of it without people seeing--the garage is secluded, the front door to our house is very much visible by many, including the stream of cars from the street that empties right in front of it), there is always that fear. We haven't had anything happen since Friday night, but the fact that shit kept happening to us has made Aaron and I both a little edgy and non-trusting. I have routinely gotten up way too damn early to make sure that we get the mail right when the mailman puts it in the mailbox. We use the outside lights as much as possible and check at night before going to bed if our cars are still around and free from break-in. It's the constant nagging thought that something else might go wrong that sucks. It's tiring to feel this way, and I'm not getting enough sleep as it is. Went to sleep around four last night and woke up around eight. I finally got up (after not being able to go to sleep again) at nine. Which was about the same time people showed up to mow and trim our lawn. Apparently someone at the city thought no one was living in our house so they mowed and trimmed until some other guys came to ask about the previous tenant (who is delinquent on a lot of bills, I think). I think they're gonna finish the job because they already woke us up or something. Don't know. Just strange. Another sign we should leave.
So Aaron and I are planning on moving back to Albuquerque at this point. We will get the next issue done and send it to the printer in late September, and get the hell out of Dodge as soon as possible after that. I feel like this is a failure, even though everyone is saying it's not. We had no control over what happened here, but I feel that I should have been able to anticipate something--maybe head it off at the initial bloodletting. If nothing we spent a very expensive and frustrating vacation in Florida during the worst time of the year to be here (we were here during the hottest months of the year). Not exactly what we were thinking when we moved here.
We're going back to Albuquerque because Aaron knows he can get a job and we don't want to do what we've been doing here--which is pretty much (except working on the magazine) sitting on our asses. There were thoughts about Lawrence or Austin, but ultimately we decided to go back to our adopted home town. Of course, I can't get ahold of Dave to talk to him about things, but I will, I'm sure, in the next couple of days. If anything, our lawn is mowed. You don't know how much I just want to get the hell out of here right now.
[In Albuquerque] Oct. 9, 1996
(photo-back in the Q, cruising the Voodoo Glow Skulls)Back to the present. Not much bad happened after that last entry. We finished up our last month in Florida trying not to get too pissed off at other people. The investor, who was supposed to round up $100,000 to $250,000 never got around to getting a proposal together. Chip opened his record store and has Todd working there for free. Todd has no choice at the moment except to find a way to move away. We offered a ride to Albuquerque, but Todd thought he could make a go of the record store thing. While Todd is half owner of the record store, he has no financial say and is up to the whims of Chip (who has proven in the recent past to be totally selfish and insensitive to other people). Todd gets free rent but nothing else. Hmmm...working 40-50 hours a week for $250+ utilities a month. I don't think it's a fair deal. Just in case you were wondering, Aaron and I were not asked to join in on the record store (although we would have refused, it would have been nice to be asked--at least to show Chip had some kind of human heart).
Jon is working on the democratic campaign in Florida. He occasionally gives us reports of the goings on there. Our house was broken into on the last day of September. Of course there was nothing there. Chip doesn't think the record store will work out, although he is apparently willing to give it a few more months. Considering it opened a few days after the first of September, that's mighty valiant of him. Most of their business comes from Goth people who have found that Todd keeps that kind of music stocked well. In other words, not only is Todd getting stiffed in the money department, he's doing all the work.
Mistakes we made in this little adventure probably have more to do with trust than anything else. We trusted that Chip was a sane and logical person. He's not. He's irrational and selfish. But he does have that nice smile all the time, as if nothing is ever wrong with his little world. Currently we are back in Albuquerque and feeling pretty well. We got a house on our first day back in town, everything was set up in less than three days and only a few strange things have happened. I don't know if this explains everything, but it does have a bit of color. I know this is really fucking long, but it's hard to explain all the stupid shit without a bit of background. Hope you enjoyed the lesson for today, please e-mail with questions. I hope I can answer them without going on as long as this thing here.
P.S. This is absolutely true, no matter how strange it all sounds.
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