Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Headed Up North: Part 3

"You will experience great success in your life but you will be at the center of many controversies. You're an instigator of many things and will always threaten stability of any kind."

-A psychic I met on the dance floor at the DJ Tiesto show in Chicago 10/31/09

I was just getting into Washington when it began to rain. There were still so many miles between me and Vancouver. There were even more miles between me and Los Angeles. The endless hours on the road and the solitude were starting to wear my nerves down to a thread.

I growled at the rain and turned my windshield wipers on. They began to clear my windshield of the rain like windshield wipers are made to do when the passenger side wiper began to lose it's windshield wiping tenacity. This alarmed me at first but then I realized there was no point in a fully functional passenger side wiper because I had no passenger.

I shrugged and carried on. Then the driver side wiper began to lose it's guster. I didn't panic. I did the most reliable trouble shooting technique that has aided users of all forms of technology as far back as the early eighties.

I turned the wipers off. Paused. Then turned them back on. It didn't work. I was hauling balls down the 5 interstate a few hundred miles from the border, it's pouring down rain and it just now dawned on me that I was too fucking stupid to check if my wind shield wipers would work back in LA.

It never rains in LA! How is this my fault?!

I tried putting my hazard lights on and just going slowly but that was pointless so I pulled off at the next exit into some small town that started with a L.

I pull into this gas station and fiddle with my wipers for awhile. Meaning I turned them on and off a few times then completely gave up. I go into this gas station and see three teenage girls talking a mile a minute with some teenage boy staring at them just waiting to pounce on the opportunity to say something as soon as they gave him one.

I walked up to the counter without them even noticing me, they are still talking incessantly.

Me: Excuse me, I know that you probably can't help me but my windshield wipers quit working and do you know anywhere I could go to get them fixed?

Teenie Bopper 1: Why couldn't we help you?

Me: I didn't mean it like that. I just need to find somebody that knows something about windshield wipers.

Teenie Bopper 2: You saying we don't know anything about windshield wipers?

Me: I'm not saying that...I just need to get...

Teenie Bopper 3: Maybe we can help you. (gives disturbing look)

Out of nowhere the scrawny fourteen year old kid who was trying to get in on their conversation when I walked up and who was probably the high school basketball team's towel boy finally has his chance to save the day.

Scrawny: There's a auto body shop just three doors down. They are open until 4.

The scrawny kid beams with pride as I thank him and pay for a watermelon Airhead.

As I turned around to walk out I could hear the three teenage girls ganging up on the boy and giving him shit for ruining their fun. I gave him a thumbs up before I walked out the door. He a learned lesson that will stay with him the rest of his life.

If you want to get something done just shut those bitches up. Good job Scrawny.

Scrawny's directions were spot on and I was able to find the auto body shop. It took a little sweet talking and forty bucks but I got the mechanic to fix my wipers and get me back on the road.

As they were being fixed the owner of the shop told me not to worry if the mechanic could not get them going again. He said there was a hotel right down the street were Elvis Presley had stayed once. He was serious and I just stared back at him without a response. If this mechanic through the graces of God was able to get my wind shield wipers going again, I was going to go back grab Scrawny and take him to Vancouver with me saving him from this rainy hell-hole.

The mechanic got my wipers wiping again and I stepped on it headed for Seattle. There was an Australian girl I had met in San Francisco I was supposed to meet up with in Seattle. She messaged me that morning and said she would call when she got into the town.

In standard fashion I was in to big a hurry and she was to slow. I went right on through Seattle and was an hour north before she called.

"Sorry baby, I got a date with Canada."

Rain, rain and more rain then I finally made it to the border.

Border Guard: Are you coming for business or pleasure?

Me: Definitely pleasure.

BG: Are you employed?

Me: Yes! Of course I'm employed I work in television.

BG: Oh yea, what show?

Me: The Bonnie Hunt Show.

BG: Really? That's still on?

Me: It's funny you should ask that but last I heard it was.

BG: What are you doing up here?

Me: I'm on temporary hiatus. An opportunity presented itself to me so I jumped at it.

BG: That show doesn't film in LA. I thought it filmed in Chicago.

Me: No it films in LA, Culver City to be exact and that's a common mistake. Bonnie is from Chicago. Oprah films in Chicago.

BG: You carrying over $10,000 in cash?

Me: Like I said I work for The Bonnie Hunt Show.

BG: (Laughs for a bit with a laugh that is less annoying but the same pitch as Fran Drescher) That's funny, go on through sweetheart.

I was amazed at the ease I had crossing over. Thank you Bonnie Hunt.

The sun was setting and I was exhausted. It began to rain again and as I drove into Vancouver my eyelids got heavy but my heart was beating rapidly.

I had made it all the way to Vancouver. It was amazing I had accomplished such a feat on a complete whim. I drove and drove looking for my hostel I had reserved at $10 a night. I didn't think I could get much for ten bucks a night but at this point all I wanted was a beer and bed.

I could not locate the hostel so I just drove down Main St. looking for something that would suffice. Out of nowhere painted on the side of a tall brick building. I see "Backpacker's Hostel and Pub".

Boom! Two birds with one stone! I was overjoyed so I immediately pulled onto a side street, parked and ran through the torrential down pour to get inside and get a room. There were quite a few vagrants meandering around the entrance but that was nothing new to me, no alarms were going off yet. The guy at the counter was chewing on his gums like he had Winterfresh flavored gingervitis. Now alarms were starting to go off.

The room as only ten bucks more but since there was a pub directly underneath I felt it leveled out. The room was decent. The mattress wasn't made of straw or anything but I'm fairly certain there was plenty of wildlife in it. The elevator smelled of urine but there was a TV with cable in the room.

I put my stuff in a locker and went down to the pub for a pint. I had to wait for what I thought was a 300 pound biker dude with leather chaps to finish his pool shot so I could walk around him to the bar. After he finished I realized it was a she when she said in a very raspy voice "scuse me baby." The only thing I had to eat that day was a watermelon Airhead and I about posted it right on the he/she's forehead.

I finally got my cold pint of Molson and sat in a far back corner.

"Vancouver isn't quite how I pictured it." I thought. I pounded a few more Molsons, just enough to get me to sleep in the rat trap. I feel asleep to the sound of little feet scurrying around beneath me.

The next morning I woke up with my jacket on, shoes on, on top the sheets with my hands in my pocket. I grabbed my laptop, rushed out the door and down to my car to see that I had gotten a ticket the previous night. I took the ticket off of my car, put it on the car right in front of me and took off.

It was sunday so I needed beer and something fried. The Colts were on bye week so I watched Brees dominate and when that game went to commercial I threw insults and curses at Brett Favre.

A few beers and a little research solved the problem at hand. I located a new hostel in a new part of town. I told the bar tender where I had spent the previous night. He laughed and gave me a round on the house. Apparently I posted up at a halfway house for vagrants, drunks, miscreants and most likely terrorists.

I got the hell out of skid row and headed for Granville St. The entertainment district and center of night life in Vancouver. I got a legitimate parking space right in front of the Same Sun Hostel. There to was a bar in the hostel but it occupants were much younger and skinnier than the burned out Whitesnake groupies at the last joint.

My room was nice and the kids staying there were really cool too. It was almost all inhabited by Australians. Apparently there is some kind of work exchange program between Canada and Australia. After college Australians are sent to Canada to find work.

The funny part of this is that none of them were trying to find work in anyway. They got hammered every night and smoked copious amounts of BC bud until the money ran out and went back. I thought it was genius seeing as Americans do the same but we don't even leave our country and we do it for four years instead of four months.

I know I should give some fantastic tale of debauchery in Vancouver but I really don't have one to give.

That's kind of the cool part of this entire saga.

I met good people. I drank good beer and ate good food. I walked around and took lots of pictures. I smoked some fine BC bud and meditated in Stanley Park. I went to an aquarium. I played a lot of poker.

I just chilled.

Just by arriving in Vancouver I had already accomplished everything I wanted to accomplish. My job was done. Like I said, I didn't even want to leave LA in the first place but I had to.

I needed to gain a new perspective and the only way one can achieve that is by leaving one's comfort zone. The pursuit of truth and beauty requires you to go to places you have never been before. Discovering new ideas, philosophies, people and places can be overwhelming, sometimes even scary.

There were many points during my journey that I wanted to turn around. Many times I thought to myself that I had to be crazy. I couldn't logically explain why I was doing what I was doing but once I got there it all made sense.

The open road is a perfect allegory for life. You may not know where you are going but you do have a destination whether you choose one or not. There may be break downs and speed bumps. There will definitely be lots of construction. None of this can stop the journey though. You have to keep moving because if you stop in the first decent place you see to get out of the rain you will never know what lies ahead of the storm. You just have to keep moving so you give yourself a chance to see it all.

Love and Respect,

Mike James

Friday, October 16, 2009

Headed Up North...Part 2

"A man goes to knowledge as he goes to war, wide-awake, with fear, with respect, and with absolute assurance. Going to knowledge or going to war in any other manner is a mistake, and whoever makes it will live to regret his steps."

-Don Juan Matus (Sunday, August 20, 1961)

From "The Teachings of Don Juan" By: Carlos Castaneda


This past Monday morning I awoke as usual at 7:00 AM. I got up, got in the shower, walked across the street for an iced coffee, came back to my apartment and got comfortable in my chair to watch Tony Harris on CNN like I do every morning. What was different about Monday morning was that I watched his entire broadcast and did not leave for work because I had no work to go to.

Normally I can stand approximately 17 to 23 minutes of news in the morning before I can no longer stand the absurdity of what the focus of our national attention has become. I had no work to go on Monday so I ended up watching more news that what I was comfortable watching.

It was a horrible experience my friends. Not watching the news because I am a certified headlines junkie but the fact I had nothing better to do but to sit and be told of how much everything is going to shit.

I got up and I started packing. I started packing for Vancouver. Now as all the 9 or 12 people know that read this blog is that I enjoy telling stories very much. I often have a tendency to allow these stories to get ahead of my actual intentions. My "get-the-hell-out-of-LA" Canada plan was one of those stories. I had been telling people about my intentions to make a run for Vancouver since I lived in The Manor.

I was supremely confident the situation wouldn't arise.

It did and I'm OK with it. Well at least now I am because I can tell you with sincerity that I did not want to leave LA. I love LA with all the capacity I have to love some place. I'm here to tell you now that leaving the city, being fired from my job and then once again going on an adventure with no clear goal in mind frightened me.

That's exactly why I'm doing it.

My car was completely packed with at least three works of clothes firmly and securely in my back pack. My Coleman propane stove in the trunk, my tent, my journal and my Macintosh computer were all tucked away in my car.

I got some Thai food and went upstairs to play Guitar Hero afterward. I finished eating and played a couple songs. Then a couple more. Time was ticking away. I kept watching the clock. I was on no one's schedule but my own. The only one in the entire universe I had to account for or report to was myself. I could easily smoke more pot, eat more Thai food and play video games as long as I so desired. No one would blame me. Many would envy the fact that that situation alone was presented to me.

It made me sick.

I was terribly anxious about making the journey by myself which had me glued to my Guitar Hero controller. I was tearing myself apart for partaking in recreational activities while I should be working. There was only one choice.

The open road.

I took my three weeks pay and cashed them immediately. Through some intensive Google searching I located a hostel in San Francisco called The Green Tortoise. The Google reviews pegged it as the present day Hotel California. I figured it was a bet worth taking.

The drive was easy. Two stops between Silverlake and San Francisco brought me to the Green Tortoise Hostel in North Beach on Broadway Ave. It was dusk when I arrived and I parked into a public parking spot right beside the hostel. I was stretching my legs and working out a near cramp when a small Asian man began to hassle me for money. I urged him to be patient but he only wanted his money. I gave him forty dollars and informed him I was planning on being here a couple days. I was annoyed by his forceful nature and just wanted him to leave me alone. I would later learn on my departure that it would of only cost me thirty dollars for two days.

That bastard.

The hostel appeared at first to be in a rather shady area. There were people in front that looked like they smelled like Jerry Garcia's jock strap after a rousing game of Bocce Ball.

With apprehension I proceeded inside to check-in. (This is funny because not a few hours later that night and the next night I would be one of those people in front of the hostel watching the occupants come in with utter bewilderment.)

I got my key and walked to my room. I opened the door and was taken back by who I found in the room. Two ridiculously gorgeous girls from Finland, one blonde and one red head, simultaneously said "Hi!" as soon as I walked through the door.

I know that you are thinking that I'm making this up but as I've said before, I can't make this stuff up.

I've heard of the saying "a girl makes up her mind if she's going to sleep with you in the first ten seconds of meeting you" before. I always abide by it and I'm rarely proven wrong. I completely blew my first ten seconds.

Blonde: What are you doing here?
Red head: Yea, what are you doing here?

(My jaw is dropped. My mind is pretty much blown and I'm desperately searching for something to say to not make myself sound like an idiot.)

Me: I umm I got fired from my job in Los Angeles so I'm taking a trip to Vancouver.

Redhead: Ohh you got fired?

(I'm thinking in my head that opening up with the fact that I got fired was possibly the worst opener that I could think of. Saying that I'm headed north to club seals would of been better.)

Me: Yeaaaa, I used to work for a TV show. No big deal. Just some talk show. I didn't do anything wrong just so you know...kind of. Soooo where are you from?

Despite my horrible first impression the girls agreed to meet up later for drinks. I got out before I made a bigger ass of myself and found a bar down Kearney to gather my thoughts.

I sat at a classy bar alone, sipping Anchor Steam and thought about the events that brought me there. I began to realize what I have been doing the last few months. I was working. I was working a desk job and doing pretty well. I was in bed by 11 every night and up early every morning. It was a good job with benefits and stability. It was also draining my very soul out from me. Bonnie Hunt was literally exorcising my eternal being out from my nostrils in between breaths of booking the good people of America for the day time talk show that wasn't Oprah or The View.

I came to a realization there as I combed through my phone book for someone to call and talk to. Nobody answered and it was clear to me I was there for the adventure. I was there for the story. I was domesticating myself by attempting to fit in to the 9-5 life style. I had to bury the untamable side of me in a burlap sack and ignore that it existed while I spent my time in the office. I can not be contained and by thinking I had the ability to stop the party I had started years ago would be foolish.

I went back to the hostel for those girls and for the rest of my adventure.

I met them in the community room of the hostel along with; Jordan the one-man-band street performer, Mike the Irish traveler here on work holiday, Pascal the Belgian seeing the states for the first time with his entire vacation paid for by his work, an Australian named Caroline that had soft eyes and was at the tail end of her month long journey through the states and also the two beautiful Finnish girls.

I sat in an open seat at a round table and a beer was handed to me. We all began to share our stories. My adrenaline rushed through my veins as I listened to their stories and shared mine. A table of complete strangers all brought together by the desire to see and experience something else. Tales of debauchery and ridiculousness were thrown out on the table as if we were playing a globe traveler version of poker.

It was the most exciting and compelling evening I had ever spent at a round table.

The next day it rained. It rained hard all day long. We found ourselves right back at the very same round table from the night before just going on about the most insane subjects we could come up with to entertain ourselves.

We discussed how many flights a cat would survive if you threw one out of a window, we talked about the best international drinking games, we were just getting into politics when (obviously) the Irish guy suggested we start drinking.

The booze started flowing at our table like the rain that roared down the steep hill roads of San Francisco. The atmosphere was surreal. Perfect strangers from all over the world who knew nobody going in were all of a sudden the life of the party.

We were the party.

We were by ourselves before we met each other and then out of nowhere something brilliant was happening. There is a beautiful bond that is made between people who travel. It is instant and it is intense. It is intense because it is sincere and honest. There was nothing out of the ordinary of the night, we went out and bar hoped.

I told stories that I knew would get laughs. Like the time I drilled rocks into my Boy Scout Derby car to win and was disqualified with dishonor. They especially liked how I had trained my pigs I raised on my farm growing up to sit and come to their names on command for jelly beans.

I talked about how I possessed virtuosic ninja skills when the Blonde said she had been a kick boxer. I then got up and did several round-house kicks, scaring the shit out of everyone in my area and almost kicking my drunk Irish friend in the face. It was a pretty normal night out for me all considered and that's what made it so magical. That a perfect night of fun was possible with absolutely anyone from any background or culture.

The next morning was rough. To start with there was an insanely long line to get a toasted bagel and secondly I had to say good bye because I had a campsite reserved. I really had to get going.

I, of course, fell in love and wanted to follow the Blonde to LA. I had to continue North though. I became close friends in a short amount of time with the Irish guy (in the same that I had with many of the other characters I've met on my travels). Before I rolled off for The Redwoods National Park I shared a cigarette with him. He called it "the last day of school" and that "it fucking sucks mayne!". I laughed and told him that I agreed. We exchanged emails and agreed that if the Indianapolis Colts made it to the Super Bowl we would meet up in New York for it.

You can bet your sweet ass the Colts will make it to the Super Bowl.

The Redwoods was a spiritual experience. That is an abrupt subject change and I'm still processing what I learned in the forest so I will save it for a later date. I did have an inspiring conversation with my supervisor from my time that I was working in Canada though that gave me fuel that didn't present itself on my fuel gauge.

(Keep in mind this is my boss from almost two years ago and we had not spoken until two days before this conversation took place.)


Me: I'm going on an adventure to figure out my next move.

My boss: That's fucking great man. What do you have to figure out?

Me: Well, What I'm doing and how I'm going to do it.

My boss: Vancouver is beautiful and you will have a great time there. But what did you go to LA to do man?

Me: To make films.

My boss: And you think Bonnie Hunt (The day time TV talk show I was working for) has any effect on what you are trying to do?

Me: Not really actually.

My boss: Then it becomes another good story to tell man! In my opinion you probably should of been fired months ago. Are you not a rock star, man?

Me: Well, yea I am headed up the west coast to Vancouver with no real plan.

My boss: What are you really trying to do?

Me: Make films.

My boss: Then go make fucking films man and next time you need the obvious told to ya you've got my home number. Pay attention to the road and send me an email, eh?

After checking into my single room with king size bed at the Travelodge on Burnside in Portland, I showered, got dressed up and headed across the street to a nice restaurant for a steak. I walked up to the bar and the only open seat was next to a dark haired girl, late twenties early thirties but soft complected and with a ninja wielding a samurai sword on her right forearm. She was drinking an extra dirty dry martini.

We exchanged looks. She was older but very cute. She said something quirky to the bartender and I commented. We were instantly in conversation after that. Turns out she grew up between ages of 5-12 in Broad Ripple, Indianapolis. We talked about the Children's Museum. I could tell she was interested when she changed her bar tab from outside, where she was dining with her friends once they finally arrived, to the restaurant bar where I was sitting. So she could talk to me every time she needed a new drink.

I finished my seventh or eighth IPA and paid my tab. I could see the table where her friends were sitting. I could see her looking at me expecting me to walk over to the table.

I walked out the door of the restaurant and returned to my room at the hotel. I made myself a drink and opened up my laptop. I had better things to do. I had to write. There's always going to be more stories and adventures but there's never enough time to write about them.

Such is the life of a Road Man for The Lords of Karma.

With Love & Respect,

Mike James






Monday, October 12, 2009

Headin' Up North: Part 1


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I ended up getting fired on Friday and I couldn't be happier about it. In no way
shape or form is my termination a "good thing". I had benefits and a contract
and all that jazz but nothing that has ever happened to me that ended working
out just fine could be classified as a "good thing" by any rational mind. I'm not
exactly rational all the time but I'm certainly not crazy. The job and television
for that matter is not a good fit for me. So I'm hitting the open road. My natural
reaction to rejection isn't to run away but to go find something better. That is
precisely what I'm doing as soon as I finish writing this in fact.

I didn't think I was going to have to use my nuclear melt down plan this early into
my foray into Hollywood but this is an emergency. While I was working in Canada the
secretary for my supervisor grew up in Vancouver, BC. She was a very sweet girl that
was sincere with her every word. She told great stories about growing up in Vancouver.
I had it in my mind then that if things were to ever get out of control or meltdown I would
head north. Stopping in San Francisco for a few days, followed by camping several
nights in Redwoods National Park and finally making a flat out sprint all the way north
right out of this God forsaken country.

I had always thought I would have to make the run for the northern border under
duress. This is not the situation. I am not bitter about getting fired. There's no reason
to even attempt to explain as to why I was fired because the circumstances are
pointless when compared with the big picture. Also, I would prefer to make up
ridiculous stories as to why I got fired as opposed to trying to explain the truth.

This will be without a doubt an adventure. That is precisely what I need. I am not
the 9-5 type and don't believe I ever will be. I feel like a wolf in sheep's clothing
when I'm wearing a collared shirt and khaki's. I'm more suited with a back pack and
a book under my arm. This feels right to me at the moment. I'm excited to see what
I might discover. I leave so that I can absorb what has taken place. When I arrive I will
process what I have gathered then when I come back I will create with that I now know.
It's a standard process. It's just another day at the office.

Love & Respect,

Mike James

Monday, October 5, 2009

I Lost My Mind at La Brea and Pico

If it's easy, it's honestly just not that much fun. I have always stayed absolutely dedicated to this mentality. If you are constantly trying to accomplish impossible tasks then you end up succeeding at so much that you never set out to succeed at in the first place.

Granted, this does place the burden of constantly battling the impending failure but this is merely a side effect. My Grandpa would say often "If ya never got out of been in the mornin' then hell you'd never fail at anything!" This is a very wise statement and one that I keep in mind as I write this.

Los Angeles is one cold hard bitch. A rock solid jab to the testicles or vagina region await around every corner. It's unforgiving, unapologetic and unjust. A lot like the world that we live in. As ugly as it can be there is something beautiful in this hobo ridden, smog laden, cess pool of floozies and fly boys.

Tonight I lost my mind at La Brea and Pico. It all built up and I went completely flat...literally.

It starts with this job. I'm on a great show with great people. I however have never done anything close to what I am asked to do for my job. I have never kept track of the amount of stuff I've had to keep track of. I've never had to talk to the amount of people that I have had to talk to. I've never had to juggle as many thing at one time as I've been asked to juggle now. Figuritively juggle of course, asking me to actually juggle would be absurd.

It's gone well or so I thought up until last week. I will just say that I have been giving all that Mike James has to offer (which is quite a bit, I have this blog to prove it) and it's not quite enough. My time there is in question and also in question is my next move if it doesn't work out.

I am am someone who infamously always has a back up plan. Today as I was leaving work I had the feeling of a dead man driving. (thought I would update that cliche for a sec) I remembered that I walked out this morning after throwing up repeatedly over the stress of having my paycheck hanging in the balance over what was in my inbox when I got to work. I saw that I had an almost flat tire. There was nothing I could about it at the time because I couldn't be late. I had to drive on it all the way to Culver City. I felt the tire go flat. Completely flat. Somehow though I got to work.

It's been pretty stressful between constantly wondering if I'm going to get caned, getting my bike stolen this weekend by some soulless hood rat, my undefeated fantasy football record, some blonde that doesn't even deserve the right of me caring that she fucked with my head (but she did anyway) and the fact we are in the greatest economic crisis since the Great Depression (thus the worry about losing my job),

So needless to say, I forgot that I drove to work on a flat tire today. I wanted nothing more but to come home, open a beer and finish Monday Night Football. That wasn't going to happen.

I stop at a gas station traveling down Venice. No working air pump. The tire looks bad. Maybe I can just pump it up and it will work? Idiot.

I get as far as La Brea and Pico. The car is no longer drivable and the driver (me) has no business being behind the wheel. I pull up to the side of the gas station and proceed to lose my shit.

Now in print I am admitting that I, Mike James am not invinceable. Los Angeles beat the shit out of me and I had fell into a urine stained wall at a gas station at La Brea and Pico.

Of all the things that I have laughed in the face of that flat tire completely deflated every ounce of strength I had in my body. If this was the Thrilla in Manilla then I was rope-a-doped the fuck out.

I meant what I said about my bike being stolen this weekend. In the same way that I mean everything I say on here. This blog isn't my way of trying to gain attention to myself or win any acclaim for the idiocy I write about. It's an accurate track record of what it's been like. I'm a journalist and I must document my experiences and journeys in an objective, truthful manner.

I about threw the towel in on LA tonight. I didn't though. I rolled up my sleeves. I popped the trunk of my car. I threw all the pointless clutter that was in my car to the ground in a very angry manner and I got out the dough nut tire. I put the car up on the jackand I changed that flat tire.

Nice try LA. I respect your effort but it's going to take much, much more to bring me down. This is with out a doubt a speed bump I'm currently experiencing. I may not be employed a week from now and in that case you can guarantee I'll be rolling with it. I might also still be employed and collecting my weekly pay check. If this is the scenario then you can bet that's what I will be doing.

You see friends, I'm a Road Man. I'm a Road Man for The Lords of Karma. There's not many of us but there was never supposed to be. It's not a burden but it is a commitment. Los Angeles is only but one stop on the tour for me. I'll be needed elsewhere and when that time comes by you know I will be ready to roll. We should all be ready to roll. I'll go first though because it's just not that much fun if it isn't hard to do.


With Love and Respect,

Mike James