A California Story of My Life

I am now in the beginning of the third leg of my trip. PDX, P-town, Portlandia. A cool place to chill in and regroup in. This isn't about where I am though, it's about where I once was.

Santa Cruz was a trip. I kinda forgot that I've really been there before. The memory of that time in my life is a little haunting so I think I blocked out the impression the place left on me, along with the direness of my situation.

The last time I was there I wasn't really there by choice. I was there because that was the best place to be in the midst of a terrible situation. Nothin that bad mind you, but living thru it was a lot worse than it sounds.

Prior to ending up in Santa Cruz I was moving up to Portland with some friends (a family) and during the caravan drive up there my truck broke down. I mean fucking BROKE Down! The engine overheated and blew. Bad bad bad. So we left the truck with a mechanic that we knew and continued the journey to P-town.

Once I got word that the truck was fixed, I grey-hounded my way down to Santa Maria to get it. Picked it up, hit the road and thanks to the competency of said mechanics, it blew again. F'real. They fixed it without fixing it. Something I paid them a couple thousand to do, only to have it break again. So I went from having gaskets and heads replaced to getting a whole new flippin engine. For those of you wondering where all my debt came from, this fiasco represented a good quarter of it!

SO! Even though they claimed that this was somehow my fault, I left the truck with them to fix it again. For real this time, not just for pretend. Rather than bus all the way back up to Portland and come right back in a week or so, I called upon Erica to help me out and help me out she did. She was in her first year at UCSC at the time. I rented a car and drove up and crashed at her place for like a week. Even though she's a sweetheart, and one of the most beautiful people in my life, I was not in a good place. I did not want to be there, I wanted this shit behind me, I wanted to begin a new life in Portland, NOT deal with bullshit that I was not dealing well with. My life was a mess, I was a mess, before the ordeal with my truck even started, shit had been pear-shaped, and I was just trying to hold my sanity together. As this unbelievable drama with my truck continued, I was getting closer and closer to complete self-destruction. Nothing was going my way. And then I was stuck in a place I had no desire to be in for an unknown number of days, completely in limbo and living mostly on credit cards. What a disaster.

Needless to say I got thru it though. It took a long while before I saw better days, particularly on the inside, but the time did come. The last time I was in Santa Cruz, I felt like I had nothing. I had either lost or given up all I knew or cared about, and my life was full of uncertainty (and pain and sadness). The only thing I knew for certain was I couldn't be in Phoenix anymore, it had burned me to the ground, and everything that happened with my truck in California was just an echo of all that. More madness: yay.

Here's the thing. While I was in Santa Cruz the first time, stumbling my way through my fucked up life, I had to setup a bank account there for some reason. State lines or somethin ruther. It was there and then that the picture on my current debit card was taken. This picture is terrible. It doesn't even look like me. I mean, the quality of the picture is bad in addition to how bad I look, but either way, whenever I look at it, I remember. What a wreck I was. I remember how terrible I felt and how broken my life had become. It was a picture from a time in my life that I do not go back and look at pictures of. But this one kept the memory of those days alive.

After Erica picked me up from airport this time around, we drove into Santa Cruz and I told her I needed to do some banking real quick. We pulled off the interstate and as we crossed a little bridge, I was flooded with memories as the scenery suddenly became very familiar to me. "I've been here before. I've seen this place. I forgot...and I did not expect to remember." But remember I did. And as we drove down the street a little ways, I continued to recognize what I thought would be foreign territory, and then she directed my attention to the bank we were headed for. It was THE bank. The same bank I had taken that terrible picture in 6 years prior when I was broke and broken, spiraling into debt and trying not to kill myself, accidentally. I had returned.

I couldn't believe it. It happened too fast. First remembering that I had BEEN there, not just briefly, but had lived there for many days in that area, driving around, living out the effects of a sickening series of events. And then I turned my head and found myself looking at the one innocuous thing that has maintained a presence in my memory for all these years. The bank that found me at my worst and said "Hey, let's take a picture!" A mug shot I've been carrying around in my wallet, an unwanted reminder, a picture of me...that doesn't even look like me.

And there I was walking inside of it, so different. SO DIFFERENT. From a downward spiral to an upswing. From one of the lowest points of my life, to one of the best. Virtually, "a new man." I even had the pleasure of depositing a wad of cash from my Thai account!

I had returned. Of all the places to go first, of all the banks we could pull into, we drove into that one. A circle was closed. Just like that. I was shown clearly the before and after. I knew it wasn't chance. It was too perfect. It was...scripted. It was Life's way of taking me by the back of the head and making me look in a mirror. A mirror in which my past is strewn out behind me, forcing me to see how much I have become a better man.

KJ Slam Tour / Itinerary

All right kids, here’s the dealio as best as I can figure it so far. I’ve tried to format it a little bit so it’s easy to skim/read.

I’m in AZ now (3/23 3:59pm) and will be til the 25^th, leaving that morning for Santa Cruz.

I’ll be arriving in Santa Cruz, Friday at 8am and leaving there the 28/29^th for Portland.

While I’m in Santa Cruz I’ll be doing my first poetry SLAM of the tour it looks like. The timing just happens to work out. So that Saturday, the 26^th, I’ll be Competing for the first time in many years. Exciting. Sure hope I don’t suck.

29thish. Get to Portland, bounce between a couple of warm inviting couches (I hope :), catch up with people, take care of a little business with my storage unit there, and try not to overstay my welcome before the 2^nd.

While I’m in Portland I would love to perform for you guys, but the only SLAM I can find is on the third and I need to be gone by then. I’ll look for an open mic between those days and try to do somethin there for ya.

Bounce on a train and be in Seattle by the 3^rd. Hook up with Josh and do what we do. On the fifth there happens to be a SLAM. I’ll enter in that and compete again. I think I may just bring my best and try to win em since I may never even make it back in those places. Try some of my favorite pieces, new and old, on different groups of people and see how they vibe. It’ll be interesting.

I’m pretty sure at one or two of these places I’m going to perform a new poem that I’ve never performed or shared with any of you guys before. It’s probably my most…energetic piece ever so I’m saving it for special occasions. But I’m gonna try it out here and see how it goes. I REALLY do not know how people are going to react to it. But I’m definitely ready to find out. It’s called, The Matter. Or at least it is right now.

Anyway, I’ll hang in Seattle for a few days and reconnect with Josh. We haven’t set a date of departure yet, but it will be no later than the 8^th.

8^th or earlier. I’ll fly back to Phoenix. On Saturday the 9^th I AM SLAMMING in Phoenix! Mesa to be exact. Of the slams I’ve looked up in 4 different states, this feels like it might be the biggest. It seems real serious and organized but who can really tell by a website alone. But the people who are runnin it have been doin this a long time and it is the only one that MADE the poets register in advance, so…?

Point is PHOENICIANS, The NINTH is The night! It might be your only chance to see me perform and do this thing that I think I’m going to be a doing a lot and for along time. This is a new beginning for me and it’s goin real well for me so far in Bangkok, so…it’s only going to get bigger and better. And since it may be another two years til I’m here, if you wanna have any idea what I’m going on and on about on facebook or my blog, this is your chance. I’ll send out an email after this with the details on it. There’s even a little cover charge.

8^thish to the 20^th I’m in Phoenix. The slam is the only thing SCHEDULED. But a dinner night/bowling night/party night is definitely in the blueprints. Possibly all on the same night ;). Not to mention some gift giving. Can’t forget that, I don’t wanna carry it all back!

Also, if cash permits, I might rent a car that week so I can jam out here and there as I please and not leave my parents without a car. So that’s when I’ll be holla’in at you. people in Tempe and BFE. I don’t know about goin up to Prescott to see you Laraine, let me know what you think and where you’re at.

21^st I go to Austin. I’m there til the 27^th it looks like. Should be a helluva time. Goin campin in Yosemite Baby! Or Bubu, whichever works I guess. I'll bring the picnic basket.

I haven’t gotten so far ahead as to look up SLAMMIN in Austin. I gotta find out what nights we’ll be in town, it’s only gonna be a couple I think so odds are against me. Either way, I’ll look for an open mic and maybe make somethin happen. Show my buddy Joe what I got in my lyrical bag of tricks.

April 27^th I’m back in Phoenix. Right now I am scheduled to fly out on the 4^th of May, back to Bangkok. I am kinda thinkin about movin it to the 2^nd IF I can, just to give myself a little bit more downtime there before I go back to work. Regardless, I got a good several days back in the valley that you people better soak up. The last thing I wanna be is bored in Phoenix. Invite me over PLEASE!

So that’s it! That’s the plan. The first leg of it has been goin well. Nice and smooth, seein people one at a time, spendin some real time catchin up, none of that wham-bam thank ya ma’am shit. I like it. It’s a nice change. Bein at home is weird and slightly oppressive, I really do like havin my own space, bein able to make noise (a slam poet needs to practice ya know!) and go in and out without a buncha questions! But whatevs. It’s good for my folks and good for me spendin some real time with them too.

My number again 480-437-0438. Do use it, it helps, when I get real busy seein people, it’s hard to keep track and…the squeaky wheel gets the grease. I don’t wanna forget anyone, but if you never make a peep, don’t be mad if we miss each other at the last minute. Holla at me. I miss you and I’ve really been enjoyin seein the people I already have. There’s plenty of time left, so no excuses.

PEACE!

My Brother

The first night in America, the first night home, was way more exciting than I thought possible. This is all because of my brother. My brother, who is that? Who is he? I wasn't sure myself. I haven't seen the man since...2001. And that's just a best guess. I haven't seen the man since the last time he went to prison. We kinda had a falling out about that time. Since he's been out, we've exchanged a few words, but not much. He was out the last time I came home two years ago but he was in Texas. I didn't even know that til I got here. So this time I didn't know what to expect. Didn't know what to expect at all. But I knew, in my heart, that I was ready to rejoin with this man, to reconnect and rebuild, to show some love. I love him, he's my brother, he may be a big lug sometimes, but you can't hold that against him forever.

When I showed up, he was home. I didn't know he was home til he came walkin through the room and waved a "What up" to me like it was no big thing. Dumb ass. Like I'm just gonna let him walk by me. I don't care what beef he thinks he has or what chips he has stacked up on his shoulders these days, he's given me a hug! I went over and did our reunion justice, I think he was uncomfortable, I don't know why but...I can imagine. I just knew I wasn't gonna let that stop me from tryin to get back in his life. I played it cool though, let him walk off, doin what he was doin and went back to sittin with my folks. Later on though, that night, I pushed it and went to his room and started talkin to him about random shit. He didn't seem too cold so I kept it goin and pretty soon he asked if I wanted to go out and get a drink. How could I say no?

On the way there we connected, we bridged a gap, thanks to somethin he found out we have in common. From that point on, his guard started to falter and he started to open up and relax and be....my brother. He took me to this bar/club he used to bounce at, introduced me to some people, walked around, checked out the scene. It was bouncin, especially for a wednesday night. Within ten minutes of bein there some random dude walks up to my brother and says "You are HUGE," my brother smiles, says thanks. I ask him if it ever gets old? He smiles again, "Naaaa" Of course not I say, why would it. He is enormous. He is still the biggest man I've ever known. As we walk around the club, I am completely hidden behind him. His 6'7" frame is that of a juggernaut. And as I walk in his wake, I am privy to the candid reactions of those we pass, and react they do. Some people can't help it, guys and girls alike: they stare, they say stupid things, laughing at how small they just felt lookin up at him. There isn't a man in the place who doesn't feel a little small lookin at Will, my fuckin house of a brother.

The night went on and on. It was a trip. I partied with my brother for the first time in ten years or so. God it took me back. Felt good too. He talked a lot, which was good, cuz the things he told me were things I needed to hear. It seems like he's grown up, a lot, in the past couple years. He spoke of learning lessons and told me stories of his recent travels around America. The odds have always been stacked against him, for one reason or another, but...for once, it seems like he has a fighting chance.

KJ on Tour --1st Day

Comin back is always weird. I guess that can't be helped and shouldn't be worried about. Comin back is weird, accept it. From the moment I land in San Francisco, I begin to....try to not wig out, I begin adapting. Of course when my first purchase is a bottle of water that costs me 2.50, adapting aint all that easy. 2.50! A price I couldn't dream of paying in Thailand. And then I sit and look around and watch people and try to remember if this is really where I'm from. Am I like these people? And if not, how am I different? Americans. What a lot. My eyes seem to get more critical as time goes on, but as I'm walking around I remember that I've always been critical of....US. Some of my best poems from high school, pieces I'm still using today, are taking shots at the status quo, at this norm, which is good that that's the case, otherwise I might feel like I've become a traitor, like I've jumped ship, like I think I'm better then them now just cuz I've been abroad "Oooooo," but no. That's not the case. I've always taken issue with life here. Something just isn't right, but few seem to see it.

Getting home was cool. Not much different than last time, cept my brother is here, which is a big fuckin difference. But because of that my Dad set up another bedroom for me and of all places...it is my old bedroom. Right now I am sleeping and typing in a room that I haven't slept in since I was twelve. I'm afraid that if I look around and start remembering too much that I might start crying. I know these walls too well. I spent years of my life in this room. The furniture is all gone, it's pretty much empty except for this air-up mattress they put in for me. But there is a nightstand, an old one that has been in our house forever, and on top of that nightstand there stands a lamp. My lamp. I can't remember ever having another lamp next to my bed. Always this one, tall and baby blue. And here it is, still here, still alive, still in existence, still doin what it does in this old room. Of all the places I could end up, why this room? Why am I being taken back THAT FAR. I wonder if the hole I burned in the carpet is still there, I'm scared to look. The past is so full. But we rarely ever encounter it like this, we rarely have the distance needed to gain perspective over the whole of it. But sometimes we get to sit in a room that is devoid of furniture and unadorned with decorations but stuffed full of memories. Your own memories. The ones you made, by hand, by foot, by matches.

If I started writing about everything I can remember happening in this room...I might never make it back to Bangkok. The ghost of myself would hand me a toy and I'd spend years trying to document what life is like in a frozen cocoon.