Forever and Again.

I was driving through the darkness.

Searching for purpose.

The night can bring out the worst of memories, and emotions.

Without the moon to guide me there may be no way to find the path.

From far behind me a spark is ignited.

The world is crawling with light.

And the darkness fades.

Morning brings a calm that breeches the most horrific nightmare.

Without the sun the land is void of texture.

With it the terrain is reborn.

A pristine portrait of what it should be.

I shade my eyes.

Let them focus.

My mind is washed of all mud and grim.

Clear as a crystal.

Sharp as a thorn.

Twin Falls Part II

At the end of November I had another chance to visit the Twin Falls National Park in Washington. The park I had visited in an earlier blog. Sadly in the first Post i was unable to take appropriate pictures. Luckily with the advancement in technology that I have recently acquired I was not only able to take pictures but videos as well. So here are the fruits of my labor:

Breathe the fire of loss

Blast these damn casinos.

Every time I decide to venture in to the pits of these decrepit mausoleums it becomes ever so hard to leave.

There is nothing worse then being taunted by something your truly do not want.

Loss.

I once read that it is not the winning that makes you want to gamble its the feeling of loss that makes you throw all of your money to the gallows.

Its that overwhelming push of adrenaline before you throw your dice, flip your cards, or push that button.

I have come to grips with my addiction early in this game luckily.

The real problem with gambling for me is when to call it quits.

Not necessarily admit defeat.

But to know when to pull out.

When your ahead.

Another problem is Nevada, casinos have a never ending supply of booze.

24 hours of continuous consumption of beer and liquor is not a good thing for someone of my discretion.

It puts my decisions and senses in an erroneous environment.

At the end of a night I sound like Oliver Twist "Please Sir, I want some more."

But this is Nevada, if your not completely out of your wits they will gladly serve you.

But thats the catch isn't it just when your about to lose everything and become a pessimist, they give you another reason to become an optimist.

mini novel.

Chapter 1:Holy flyin fuck.

A couple of beers later and I'm comepletely enlightened. I could make

the dalai llama look like a middle school counselor. Not that I know

anything about that sort of thing, coencidently enough I do. It's a

damn shame it takes the intrusion of alchohol into my system to see

clearly enough to be human. Or atleast the facsimile of one. When and

how did I become such a shy, insecure wreck. I can't approach a decent

looking female without getting sweaty palms. How about a few lessons

in social networking and dating. Or maybe a few improv classes. I

could write for months on my evermounting horniness. These are the

confessions of a man who peaked in middle school. Now an adult and my

sex life consists of memories of teenage sexual encounters, and mid

shower rub downs. Loneliness is only as far as my arm.

My bladder has shrunk to that of tom thumbs. My mouth is dry due to

the alchohol, and my pisspot is full as I lye here on the top bunk. Oh

whoa is me. Whoa is me. So now the time has come for me to conclude

this convulsion of converse and scream goodnight.

Chapter 2: southern states conjur a southern mentality.

It' has been well over a month since I've been home. Well atleast

what I consider home. A state on the eastern seaboard where all of my

belongings are scattered in dissaray. This is what i call HOME. A

place to keep my shit. A storage unit a P.O. Box, and a few unlucky

friends homes or garages. Somehow I know where all of it is. But there

lies the moral to my story. The goal I mean to reach. A stationary

place to keep all of my things. Anywhere I can call my own. I don't

care if it's a god damned cave, it's time I take care of myself the

way I should have before. This vagrant lifestyle I have been living

has to come to an end at some point. Time to put the brakes on I

suppose. Then again I will give myself a year perhaps and that old

nomad spirit will pull me onto the road again. Searching for purpose

and a good time.

Chapter 3: My friends are assholes, with heart.

Here's a good thing not to do to a friend you know is suffereing from

home sickness, DO NOT call your friend to tell him that your are going

to be on MTV. Of all the assanine, exciting things that I could be

missing, why must it be the first chance to make a complete dick of

myself on national telivision. Leave it to my so called friends to

wait till I am indisposed and unable to make a quick return to decide

that this was time to go to the casting call of the Silent Library.

Another one of those we will pay you to puke sort of shows. But that's

just our ticket to 15 minutes of fame. A few rotten tasks for a few

hundred dollars, and a half hour on television. Give me a bucket, a

spoon and I will eat my own shit like icecream for that kind of

exposure. But here I am riding in the back of a freightshaker,

somewhere in the depths of central Texas asking myself why. Your all

swine in my book.

Chapter 4: Its just for looks...

This chapter has been deleted due to cruel accusations, wrongful judgments on my character, and attacks on my libido. But for those who want to know a little about what this chapter was here is an exert for your amusement:

" when meeting a potential man for you, don't send him nude photos and dirty

texts inviting him to fornicate. For this will signal a pattern of

thought that will lead to this man thinking you are easy. Do not get

sad or angry over the fact that all He wants is sex when you made it

so apparently available for him. And it's a well known fact that most

men are assholes get over it."

I suppose this is just another one of those self fulfilling prophecies

I am always hearing about. Then again I just want to lay some pipe.

Chapter 5: master of your own domain.

I smoke a pack and a half of marlboro 100s a day. That's like 4 packs

any other brand. I have a habit of eating before bed and it's never a

small snack. More like a full coarse meal. these kind of habits make

me sick to my stomach. My mind is always churning on how much weight I

should lose and how healthy I could be. day after day I choose to

break the promises I make myself. I constantly imagine what I would be

like thin and fit. Yet I don't get out of the truck and run like my

life depended on it. I have always been cursed with an over abbundance

of laziness and procrastination. Although my mind is always going like

some speed freak in a drug den. My mind pushes my body to move, and my

body stays firmly rooted to whatever seat I have decided to put it in.

It's only a matter of time before my mind wins over body and the

initial burst will be like the gale of a Hurricane wind. Sending me

into some insane tantrum where I will push myself so hard that I break

like a vase. As I crumble to the floor I will curse myself for never

having dicsipline.

Chapter 6: THE BLACK HOLE

There is something sinister about truck stop, and rest area bathrooms.

I am not one of those people that can't use public toillets, infact

Its the only way I can handle my daily business. I am forced to push

myself through the gates of hell everytime I realize I have to take a

shit. A good example is right this moment, I am literally sitting on

half a toilet seat. Where the other half is I dare not think about. I

would have used the other stall but it was taped off like a csi murder

scene. And ofcoarse the third and final stall was vacant of T.P., the

toilet seat had some kind of satanic scripture written on it. It

looked like a page out of the necronomicon. I fear to sit there for my

ass may be possessed.

There are a few differences between truck stops and rest areas.

Here a few I've picked up along my travels. Truck stop bathrooms the

message boards for the biggutts, homosexuals, and Christian extremists

of America. Most ts bathrooms are cleaned on a regular basis but

somehow still look like the end of the movie dead alive. Always full

to capacity , and the sounds you may hear In the other stalls will

keep you up at night in terror. Rest areas on the other hand are

Almost always empty but you get the feeling your being watched by some

murderous freak like michael myers and I don't mean the Austin powers

shmuck There is never any toilet paper and the seats and doors are

only hanging on by one hinge. There is never paper towels and don't

expect to clean your hands cause there is no soap. Piss poor service

for a piss poor America.

Chapter 6: Your only hope

Worry worry worry. Always a problem to solve never any solutions. They

should start a college to teach you the basics in living day to day.

Perhaps I should have spent more time with the guidance counselor in

school. Or spent more time in school overall.

My whole life is like walking through a room of beartraps. One

false step and your caught in a world of shit.

Chapter 7: Deja Vu

It's a kick to think about how similar my life is to that of my

teenage years. Still taking walks alone, with a pack of cigarettes,

and some headphones. Dressing up for no one in particular. Hoping to

meet someone to explore the universe with. I never was afraid to make

small talk with strangers.

Chapter 8: good and toasty

You know that feeling you had when you were a child, the feeling on

Christmas eve. Right before you went off to bed and you were thinking

about all the presents you would get. That's how I feel when I'm good

and drunk!

Paperback Gorilla

Just another day wasted away on waiting. Seems to be a great portion of my life is spent in a seat, just waiting. Where else could I be at this moment. What other endeavors could I be pursuing. The possibilities are vast. I should be building an empire of dreams, and goals. I have the floor plans, but no tools to construct a land of my own. There lies my conundrum. I have no pieces to the puzzle. No response to the riddle. The perplexity of my own life colludes me. The question is not what I want, but how to attain it. Great strides will have to be made in order for me to right the wrongs in my life. I have made quite a bit of progress though. Its amazing how much freedom I have with my fiscal responsibilities. I work and I save. I have no time for play, I live in a truck. I read constantly, its beginning to be an obsession. And finally I have redeemed my love of writing. Granted my grammar may be lacking and my structure and form poor but I seem to make my points clear enough. It will be a fine day when I can stop borrowing my Co-drivers computer and have my own space to write. Blessed be the day.

My vessel

Rushing down a river that flows in 2 separate directions. I pass boulders and hollows on either side. Keeping my hands steady on the wheel. I coerce my vessel diffidently through rapids winding to the horizon. My dreamlike setting depicts a land foreign to me. With each glance a vast expanse of history and knowledge is thrust upon me in great strides. This subtle thought breaches my mind with such force that I may weep in its enormity. Firmly grasping the wheel and following the bends of the mighty tributary almost instinctively, without weary of faltering my path. The sun is set far behind me, eclipsed by the loom of mountains cascading in all directions. The world is blanketed in warm shades of amber and metallic gold. Deep canyons and crevices pull the land apart like wounds. Passing through my ears is an assortment of ballads wrought by a band I could only imagine as gypsies. All this is only a moment of contentment in an array of disorganized thinking. For within seconds my mind collapses as my worries of burden flood over my collective thought. Entrancing me in disarray yet again. I yearn to feel the light of life within me. To know what it feels like to have a steady span of compassion. A prophetic worshiper once told me of a vision she had. This vision was of myself. In her prophecy she explained me as a broken mirror. Still whole, yet cracked like a sheet of ice over a pond. And that one day my cracks would seal themselves. Mending my broken soul. It feels as if this were told to me a century ago. For even now my heart is heavy and my sight is unclear. But, being the optimist that I am, my hope never subsides. It guides me and pierces my actions. I regard my past with sultry view, behold my present with awe, and steer myself to a future with an auspicious end.

Aaron Mitchell.

TWILIGHT

you may think i am gay or childish for saying this...but the twilight series were some of the best books i have ever read. no joke. i am forever grateful that i had a chance to read them!!!

My First Ever You Tube Video

The Lush Forests of the North West

I  was beginning to think that my choice in being a truck driver wasn't going to pay off as well as I had hoped. But today was a day that made me think twice about my decision. 30 miles outside of Seattle in the Snowqualmie Valley is where I have spent my last two days. Its monday now and rainy. Not unusual for these parts. But Yesterday was gorgeous I must say, sunny and warm.  Funny thing is I spent most of it in the truck reading Twilight, a fitting book considering my location. After finishing said book, I fell asleep and woke up to an overcast. Today was cooler and cloudy. It looked like it was going to rain most of the day but luckily it waited till the evening to drop a lake on us. After spending most of sunday inside I was getting a little antsy. As I said the rain held off for a while so I took advantage of the locals. I asked them if there were any good hiking trails in the area, I found a nice little trail about 2 miles up the road, a place called twin falls. I was up for anything as i began my walk towards the trail. It was fairly easy to find, convenient signs were placed within view. I was excited to see that i was not the only person out for the day. A good amount of cars were parked at the beginning of the trail. I made a goal to make it to the falls and back before dark, so I proceeded with my jaunt. Of course I didn't realize how long of a walk this would be. About half way to the falls I was becoming rather thirsty. That and my bad habits were catching up with me, and following me. Luckily I found a nice couple and their child who were kind enough to chat with and they happened to give me a bottle of water. I was very grateful. This wouldn't be the last time i was shown hospitality by a stranger. After my intrusion to these kind peoples day I kept on my way to the falls.  Another ten minutes and I was there. I was overwhelmed with beauty. One hundred foot waterfalls, towering cliffs, and trees with trunks larger than i have ever seen. A bridge cascaded 90 feet about the waterfalls, it was rather unnerving but breathtaking. I was spell bound.  I could not ask for a better day. The only thing that put a damper on my mood is that i had no one to share it with. That and my phone died before I could get a picture of the waterfall. But luckily I did take a few quick pics before it decided to crap out on me. I hovered around the waterfalls for a good while, and carved my name in to a railing. When I was satisfied that I met my goal, I made my way back to the beginning of the trail, and after that the truck stop. But before I could make it too the beginning of the trail it started to rain. Not heavy, but just enough to get me very damp. By the time I made it a 1/2 mile from the truckstop, it was pouring. This is when i was shown another act of chivalry. As I was walking on the road to the truck, a car heading in my direction started to slow down, and eventually came to a stop next to me. A hand holding an umbrella reached out the passenger side window. All I could do was grin. I told this wonderful woman I didnt have far to go but she insisted that I take the umbrella and that i could keep it. Another thanks, and I was on my way. A little dryer. I finally made it back to the truck. My co-driver was convinced I was mauled by a bear. I was gone for over 3 hours. After all was said and done. I took a very long shower, and had a very nice dinner. I am pleased with how the day went. But to be honest I think need more naked women in my life. EnD

ONE HELL OF A RIDE

Hello again. It's been a few days since I have had a chance to sit down and convey some more of my enchanting thoughts, and delightful adventures. So now that I am back in my truck and sitting in the passenger seat, next to my co-driver Stephen, I have found a little time to do some bloggins. The title to this blog says a lot about the state of this past week, it HAS been one hell of a ride. Starting Monday in Newark, NJ. The night before this I talked to my first crack whore, literally, she asked if we wanted some pussy. When we said no, she asked if she could have 5 bucks for Mcdonalds. This was 5 minutes after a man told us we could park on the street and no one would bother us. Fucking Hilarious. Monday was a good day for two reasons. One being I made it the fuck out of Newark, NJ. Two being I made it home. What a relief that was. Tuesday didn't consist of much action at all really, just enjoying the company of my friends, and our mutual friend; booze. Wednesday was on a level all on its own. Wednesday April 15, 2009 was the day I rode my first roller coaster. I know, your asking yourself how could I be 22 years old and have never been on a roller coaster. Well, when growing up in a small town in a somewhat impoverished family, its a little hard to get out as much as you would like. Especially when you have parents that are content with being miserable. But I digress. The anticipation, and anxiety that i was feeling before making my first trip was palpable. The Griffin is a monstrosity, nothing in my life could have prepared me for the thrill that I was about to experience. Needless to say my first time on a roller coaster was something I am never going to forget. How could I, I was screaming like a 12 year old girl at jonas brothers concert. Although now that I think about it Brandon was more excited then i was. For five minutes after the ride I was in complete shock. And then there was this gnawing at my insides. Not from the inertia but from the need for more. And so I fed this hunger, with the help of my friends Brandon and Ivy. Within 2 hours we hit every major ride at the Busch Gardens theme park. Everyone but Apollos Chariot, it was closed for maintenance. By the end of the night I was an entirely new person. Beyond the trip to Busch Gardens and back not much else happened on wednesday night. Except Pee Wees Big Top, but that doesn't need any explanation. And then came Thursday. A slow day at first. Our initial plan was to go to the D.C. Zoo. But as a group we tend to procrastinate on a grand scale. So we ended up lounging around till about 7 P.M., than I went to the driving range. I commenced to play to rounds and get completely trashed. An all around good time. The rest of the night was somewhat of a blur. But the main thing I remember of that night was how I ended up naked with Brandon and Taylor with plastic bags over our heads. How it got to this point is still a mystery to me. Im sure our buddy Jordan was thinking the same thing when he woke up with all three of us in his room dancing beside his bed. After all of this I ended up leaving Virginia around 4:30 A.M. The sad part is I did not end up sleeping till early saturday morning. Now that its sunday i have caught up with my sleep and I am ready to drive. All this is just another small part of the continuous adventure that is my life. I just hope that i can always have the fingers and hands to write about it all. But then again I could end up losing a bet in some third world country where the wager is my hands. End.  

HOME

There is nothing better than knowing I am home. That I have a home. And that i have friends to share it with. It will make my months on the road worth it. I am forever grateful. End.

Crazy Freds Whorehouse Truckstop

Today while driving east on 40 through Arizona, I came across a grand piece of americana. This fantastic view of the past is located about 5 miles out of Kingman, in the outskirts of the desert mountains. Oddly enough my Co-Driver knew all about this place, and decided we should stop and "look around".  So there I was, pulling into a relatively small truck stop just off of exit 44, not far from the legendary route 66, and this is when i realize that this is no ordinary choke and puke, but an American landmark. Sure its old, small and rundown from years of abuse, but you can feel the energy that was once there emanating off the buildings. The title to this joint is Crazy Fred Whorehouse Truckstop. And directly behind it, not 50 feet away, is a wonderful little tavern called The Dollhouse A Big Rig Gentlemen's Club(sadly not open this late in the morning). Which resembles a barn, or more so the old western taverns. My first reaction to all of this was to not get out of the truck cause the air could be rank with AIDS. But after thinking about it I decided i should not miss such an opportunity to learn more about the history of truck driving. The sign for Crazy Fred's does not actually say whorehouse, I had to meander inside and browse the gift shop to find out the true name. The reason I am so interested in such a place comes from knowing how truck driving as a lifestyle once was. Truck drivers years before my time were all mavericks and renegades roaming the country always in search of "a better time". These were the kind of truckers taking hills at a 120, not sleeping for days at a time, all the while keeping tabs on several different love affairs across the states. They were kings of their territory and could not be slowed down for an instant. And the only actor who could ever pull such a role off is Burt Reynolds. But as the years progressed the federal, and local governments slowly started playing around in the business. Speeds on highways were reduced, trucks were governed, roads were restricted, laws were set in motion to make sure that drivers get the proper rest and aren't causing ruckus(this is where the logbooks were implemented). Local communities started shutting down the truck stops that were deemed religiously, politically, and lawfully inappropriate.  Even the truck stop whores(lot lizards) are few and far between. My point being there is no fun in truck driving anymore. Sure there is a good amount to see around the United States, but what professional driver has the time or money these days to stop and see the sights. Granted I am new to all of this, but the message is coming across just the same. Senior drivers I have had the the pleasure(or displeasure) of meeting all have the same view. Its not a lifestyle anymore its just a job. I still love the road, but I am disappointed knowing its not what it once was. Truck driving was the American Dream, the meaning of freedom, it was full of comic book characters and true entertainers, it was filthy, raunchy, politically incorrect, and most of all a formidable career. Present day trucking is just another employee handbook to read an memorize. So in conclusion, I salute you Crazy Fred for keeping the past alive, and living the American Dream, with cheeseburgers, strippers, and diesel fuel. end.

Music.

If you find yourself in a bind, and cant seem to find anything on your ipod, or in your cd case, here are a few groups i recommend you wrap your ears around:

Tycho 

Flying Lotus 

Black Moth Super Rainbow

Bonobo 

Wolf Parade

!!!(chk chk chk)

These are bands that I thoroughly enjoy at the moment. So get with the program. And quit listening to shitty music. :-) end.

one more thought

I have decided that I am not going to accessorize this blog. I see no reason for it. I may add pictures here and there but this is isn't a myspace page. I chose to start this for the aspect of writing, the only aesthetic value that this blog will have is that of words. PIMP MY BLOG. end.

Movies That Make Me Commit Manslaughter

The first on my list of shoddy filmmaking is a movie I recently waisted 90 minutes of my precious time on aptly named Babylon A.D. (the acronym meaning AINT DICK). The movie is based on a book called Babylon Babies written by a french author Maurice Georges Dantec. I have yet to read the book but the reviews were not panned by critics. One review stated:

("Riddled with acronyms and pop culture allusions, this is an intense, intellectually labyrinthine ride."
— Publishers Weekly.)

The movie adaptation on the other hand was panned. The overall review being:

"A poorly constructed, derivative sci-fi stinker with a weak script and poor action sequences."

 I could not say it any better than that. And I would rather not delve into the subject of Vin Diesel thats a tragedy all on its own.(*cough washed up cough*) I am a big fan of sci-fi genre and anything there of. But the problem with most sci-fi is that its not well thought out and the compassion for it just seems drained. I am waiting patiently for the day when i can be content with the sci-fi genre. But until that day I am just going to have to put up with such BUNK as Babylon A.D. and A.V.P. Until that day I am going to bitch and gripe about every movie that makes me feel like i should be living in a cabin deep in the alaskan forest, with nothing but a lamp, and a copy of a hitch hikers guide to the galaxy. I hope the future is not so bleak. End.

The wonders of East L.A.

Now that my introduction to this catastrophe is complete i suppose its time to start "blogging".  Currently I am sitting at the far end of an extra large truck stop parking lot, in a suburb of L.A., called Ontario. So far today has progressed rather well, considering I am actually writing. Although this morning was not very pleasant, being woken up at 5 am to my co-driver telling me to move the bottom bunk.(incase you didnt know trucks have bunks called sleeper berths, and as a safety precaution while the truck is in motion you cant be in the top bunk) Having to move at all at the time of the morning is a challenging feat for me. But having to climb down out of the bunk just seemed impossible. It took a while but I finally managed to achieve the task. By the time I laid down in the bottom bunk my Co-driver Stephen was asking me for directions. At this point I knew it was hopeless to even attempt sleeping. And So I've been up ever since. Our Unload this morning was a nightmare, directly in the middle of East L.A., if any of you are familiar with the movie born in East L.A. you know what I am talking about. Dirty, Cramped, Crowded and very mexican. Not that I have anything against Mexican and Latinos alike, its just there is a very large language gap. Its extremely hard to communicate directions and important information. And damn it if the only Spanish I know is very inappropriate for that kind of communicating. I cant just walk up to the guy and say "Como Esta Punta". It would most likely make the conversation even harder.Although I will give them one thing, they can make some magical Mcdonalds. Brandon knows what i mean. j/k. (take no offense to any of this). Needless to say we managed to back in, a terribly hard maneuver, and get unloaded. Once unloaded we headed to this T/A truck stop. And here I sit. Waiting. Our next load picks up tonight at 1 am and brings us across the country to New Jersey. So close to home. If all goes well I will be home in Virginia Tuesday. What a blessing that will be. But sadly this will be the last time for awhile. I wont be venturing home in May because my little brother is graduating high school. And this is a big event in my immediate family. Out of the three brothers he will be the only one to graduate from formal high school, and attend college. The little prick. I love him more for it. I do hope i can make it. Plus it would be nice to see the town I grew up in again. The land of the Yoopers. The trademark mark name for those who live in the Upper Peninsula, and parts of Northern Wisconsin. After this event I will have the chance to go home the following month. So bare with me Virginia we will be seeing each other again on occasion. I plan on being on the road for at least a year. This will be difficult, but beneficial to me and my future. I just want everyone to know that I love you and miss the piss out of all of you. I want everyone to keep in contact with me while I am out here, it gets lonelier than hell for someone like me on the road. Granted I am in a hell of a good position for it, no real possessions and no relationships. But I myself do need some love from time to time. So girls don't be afraid to talk dirty to me. End. 

This is the start to something horrible...

Well, here it is, my first blog. I never imagined myself as a blogger but unforeseen boredom has forced me to start one. The original idea behind this blog was first presented to me from my lovely friend Ivy. So I decided now was the time to take her advice into account. She is a clever little rascal. Also in conjunction with this blog I have absolutely no idea what the hell I am doing. I always wanted to become a writer of sorts but my compassion for it faded over time(and gallons of booze). But i figure since I have all the time in the world in my current position, i may as well let everyone know how I am doing. So henceforth this will be MY blogspot and i will update it from time to time when circumstances permit me to do so. I do hope that you enjoy the tidbits of information about my life that will pass through this virtual highway and be picked up by your visual synapse. End.