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

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

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

Unpublished Kush LA article: Reach Out & Smoke WIth Somebody

The Hollywood Holla is not associated with Kush LA Magazine.

Greetings! The Indianapolis Colts have pulled off another hard fought victory and Peyton Manning has proved once again that he is the most dominant quarterback in the world. After an exhausting weekend, work day and Monday Night Football game I'm forcing myself to muster out a few measly sentences on the bloggidy blog.

Last posting announced I was now writing for Kush LA Magazine. Well sometimes things don't always work out how we intend or imagine them to work out. I will not be writing for Kush LA Magazine and my first article with them will be my last. Apparently if the magazine was a Baskin Robbins my flavor of comedy would not be in their top thirty two. (I can go all day with weed/food references, they don't know what they're missing!)

The work schedule and the film has prevented me from sharing more of my tales of excessive awesomeness but I do have a little something for you. Below is the piece I wrote for them for this month's issue. Unfortunately it was not printed in the magazine but fortunately I run the perfect journalistic outlet for this type of article, this blog.

So I'm past weed writing for now. The marijuana-lit genre is still a wild frontier and I have a "been there, done that" outlook on it for now. Enjoy the piece below because if I can start getting paid for these silly words I might need to find a new subject.

Stay tuned for my weekly musical review.

Reach Out and Smoke With Somebody

By: Mike James

People these days are trying to connect in so many ways. Those unlucky in love go online and leave their hopes at finding that special someone to a website. Millions of people across the world are tweeting about their lunch, their sleeping habits and something about Michael Jackson with the hope someone will find them interesting.

The desire to connect with others is as natural an instinct as it is for dogs to scoot their bums across the carpet after they take a shit. The 21st century has us connecting in some pretty strange ways. Spend a little time online these days or just listen in on an office conversation about reality television and all of a sudden that dog scooting its hind parts across your carpet doesn’t seem so awkward, it now seems practical.

I have always had the belief that I have something to learn from everyone. I have had the privilege of knowing some ridiculously interesting and amazing people. The best part of these memorable connections is that it never would of happened if I didn’t smoke weed.

Marijuana is nature’s great equalizer and because of this it allows you to connect with people you may never connect with quite as easily.

The Passer-By

I find myself in conversation with random people all the time. One of my first visits to LA I was staying in the Santa Monica Days Inn across from the pier. I was girl watching on the pier and generally putting out the vibe when the opposite of what I was trying to do happened; some dude walked up and started talking to me. I’m polite, so I conversed until he asked if I smoked bud. I simply said, “what do you think?” and laughed.

He had a quad of some insane Purple God’s Gift OG. We smoked a couple blunts in my hotel room and laughed loudly about random things until there was an angry knocking at my door. I was staying in a non-smoking room so I had an inclination as to what the knocking was about. My new friend however panicked. I tried to calm him down, telling him I could handle this, it has happened to me many times before but he wouldn’t listen. He ran around the room looking for a place to hide but found none. I was beginning to open the door when I saw him dive under the bed. This room however had no under the bed. The bed sat on a solid oak frame. He knocked himself out cold on his dive attempt right as I opened the door and let a thick plum of smoke out roll into the face of the hotel manager.

He asked a lot of questions but I was way to slow to answer any of them until he saw my friend knocked out on the floor.

“He’s very sleepy” was all I was able to say.

“Get your shit and move to a new room in five minutes or I’m calling the cops” he said as some random, stoned dude with a possible head injury lay on my floor twitching. We’ve been great friends ever since.

The First Date

A legitimate, pre-planned and organized first date may be something others have no problem completing with ease but I am not one of those people. Meeting girls is not a difficult task but transferring over the charm and quick wit that set up the date in the first place over to the one-on-one evaluation is not always easy. There are so many rules, stipulations, guidelines and social mores that go with the “standard” first date that it can seem more like filing a tax return than trying to connect with somebody.

You talk about what you do for a living.

Yea that’s great let’s talk about work during the one point all week I’ve been looking forward to not thinking about work.

Then there’s talk about family.

I’m glad you were raised right but I don’t really care.

Or it’s…

Ok your family is messed up like everyone else and now I’m just depressed.

If you’re like me, you just try not to sound like an idiot.

I’m going to just keep eating dinner rolls and laughing because that seems to be working better than talking about my hatred for U2.

My best and most successful first dates have not included dinner, no movies, no “just hang with me and the girls” none of that. The best first dates have always been when we just got super high and talked about aliens.

Granted, this isn't the easiest maneuver to pull and does require some finesse but it is a practical way to determine if she's a keeper or not.

I believe marijuana is the ultimate aphrodisiac because it gives one the ability to transform a night with a girl where she would normally consider you a cheapskate into an artist. Think about that.

The Foreigner

This goes for either someone from another country in America (but is not needed like the latter) or an American in another country. I wouldn’t say that all Americans fit the stereotype that those abroad believe of us but for the most part we are all Jason Biggs’ character in American Pie to them.

That is until you reach out and break that stereotype.

I studied art for a semester in Italy and it opened my eyes to these types of realizations like never before. Take all the time I spent in museums, old churches and art galleries while I was in Italy and it doesn’t even come close to adding up to what I learned in one night smoking a spliff with our hotel’s night desk manager in front of the Trevi Fountain.

Old People

Never ever turn down the opportunity to smoke with an old person. I’m talking 70+ here, the ones who have honestly seen it all.

I met possibly the most epic man ever to walk the face of the earth up in Canada when I was working there on Parliament Hill a few years ago. He was an aged Nova Scotian and he didn’t even know how old he was. I’m guessing between 72-76 years old but he could of been 53, who knows?

A colleague of mine was living next door to him and one night when we were drinking beer and playing guitar on his porch I saw a shirtless old man, wearing a captain’s cap, dancing in the next yard over to Polka music with a bottle of whisky in one hand and tossing peanuts to a swarm of squirrels around him.

My mind was blown instantly. I put the guitar down and got up to investigate when I was stopped.

“I’ve got to tell ya, that’s The Skipper. You might never be the same after hearin’ what he’s got ta say you know” my friend said hiding a smirk.

I’m often warned and rarely slowed, so I walked over, pulled a joint out of my fro and said “you smoke?” to the crazy old man.

The Skipper jumped a few feet in the air and had me follow him back to his make shift fort in his back yard complete with transistor radio, scavenged VCR that played The Beatles’ movies on repeat and an eclectic selection of dried meats for snacking purposes.

The Skipper told stories of being a street performer in Halifax for years. He sang songs of getting in bar fights in far away places, wild women and of course smoking weed.

I returned to talk and smoke with the Skipper often while I was in Canada because even though he didn’t have a single useful lesson to teach me I learned so much from him.

Next time you are trying to come up with some cheesy pick up line, don't. There's no reason to feel uncomfortable around a bunch of people that are different than you. Why don’t you just smoke a doob, pass it to somebody and save everyone a whole bunch of trouble?

Love & Respect,

Mike James

Tales of Great Success

One day I'll be a success like this guy. One day I'll own Park Place AND Boardwalk!

My correspondence has lacked in the last few weeks because I have been experiencing a glorious streak of success. I invite you all to bask in my glory as I proceed to tell you how awesome I am.

I'm just kidding there's no way I'm that far up my own ass. I am awesome though and have had some success lately. For one my debut short film "Shotgun Wedding" starring Jeff Castle and Courtney Thomas (go ahead and IMDB them now) was shot against all odds.

http://www.imdb.com/name/nm1115424/

http://www.imdb.com/name/nm2315827/

I have some unbelievable stories from that but will save most of it for the DVD commentary. One instance is that I didn't have an actress as of 9:30 the night before the shoot but showed up at Courtney's back porch with my production manager that had not spoken to her for more than a year to pitch the film to her. It was a one in a million shot and she was perfect. How's that for a Hollywood moment?

Another reason is I started a 50 hour a week job at a TV show. I've decided not to write about this job. The blog posts from me working at AFV are pretty hysterical ( ex. falling on my ass talking about lesbian strippers to Tom Bergeron) but this is a little more serious than that (no offense to America's Funniest Videos) so it's best we leave that where it is.

I also got a gig writing for Kush LA Magazine. If you live in Los Angeles County please pick up a copy at your local 7/11 or Whole Foods! I've been looking to get more copies and have had great difficulty so if you haven't gotten yours yet, stop reading and go get a fucking copy.

If you don't live in Los Angeles then don't feel rushed just go to www.dailybuds.com and read the article online. I've got pg. 76-77.

Ok now with all the shameless self promotion bull shit aside let's get to some fun!

I was working my mind grapes around today trying to think of a wonderfully ridiculous story I could share. Overwhelmed with my recent good tidings I couldn't help but reminisce on some of my greatest achievements. Granted, my idea of an accomplishment my vary drastically than your average chap.

But then again your average chap is not "Fro-Spotted"

http://www.flickr.com/photos/frolab/3854157488/in/set-72157602623626632/

I began to jot down some of my fondest memories over the years during my lunch break as I ate my caesar salad. I took a huge bite that had too many croutons in it when the phone rang. It was inconvenient not only because I began laughing when I remembered number 2 on the list but also because I actually answered the phone. Croutons all over my computer screen.

That instance didn't make the list but it is a funny visual. The following list is in no particular order. Cheers!

1.) Being kicked out of not one but two bars consecutively for doing a Mexican hat dance wearing an authentic Mexican poncho, huge sombrero and perfectly drawn-on Sharpie mustache. I exited to applause and by security at both establishments, respectively.

2.) Convincing a girl at a bar in Ottawa that I was Gene Simmons' son (Nick Simmons) and her taking me home with her only to realize I was not in fact Gene Simmons' son far to late. I'll let you decide if there is a striking similarity or that this girl was just strikingly dumb.

a.) http://meaningfuldistractions.files.wordpress.com/2008/06/nicksimmons.jpg

3.) Winning the first and only legitimate fist fight I have ever been in.

4.) Surviving Las Vegas -

A.) First visit, took acid and went to a burlesque show but had to leave early when an elderly obese man sitting next to me began talking dirty to himself. I left the theatre by rolling down the stairs in an uncontrollable fit of laughter.

B.) I was hit by a taxi cab, rolled off the hood and the cabbie sped off. I then got a beer and shrugged it off.

C.) I woke up in a random bed 15 minutes outside of Vegas to an old lady screaming at me in Spanish. I grabbed my clothes, ran out and waited 15 minutes in the parking lot before the girl that brought me there came out to explained that was her mom and she gave me a very silent/awkward ride back to Caesar's Palace.

5.) Actually getting down the intermediate course on the mountain in Vail the first time I went snow boarding. Regardless of the fact that ski patrol was begging me to stop because they couldn't watch it anymore.

6.) Living inside a make-shirt fort in my UCLA dorm room my first summer in LA. The maids never took it down, changed my sheets and even cleaned one of the bongs sitting next to my mattress. Things went down in that fort that shall never be spoken of outside the fort.

7.) Calling Dee Snider from Twisted Sister a douche bag to his face.

8.) Having the OG of the West Adams Crips set over to my apartment. I wanted to shoot a video on his block and no white person that wasn't a cop had done that in years. He was one of the most polite and respectful people I have ever met in my life. He showed me nothing but love and let me shoot the video on his block.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3HhiGd_Wbls

9.) Creating The Ice Cream Cone Assassin character. This began with me discovering the incredible costume in my friend's closet. I loved it so much I wore it out to the bars and to victory in a Halloween contest. I loved it so much I made this trailer for a faux-action movie for my film class. Nobody got it. I mean not a single soul said a word for a very long time after I showed it in class. I just sat in the back of the room giggling and feeling extremely weird.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YFtFu9JoGho

10.) Living up to my word to all my friend's back home when I said I was going to come out here and own it. I have tossed around a whole lot of horse manure in my day but I have always been very serious when I say "It don't stooooooooop!" Because it sure as hell hasn't.

With Love & Respect Always,

Mike James

"SHOTGUN WEDDING" & OTHER UPDATES!!!

Hello all! I have not been posting as often because I have been incredibly busy.

1.) I've been doing improv at the UCB Theatre in Los Angeles. I will have a show coming up in September which I will provide more details come closer to the show.

2.) I am now a columnist for Kush LA Magazine. Please look for Kush LA Magazine at all 7/11 stops and Whole Foods if you are in the LA/San Diego County areas August 20th to pick up your free copy. Or visit www.dailybuds.com to be able to access the full experience.

3.) Last Saturday I shot a short film entitled "Shotgun Wedding" on a Panasonic HVX-200. It looks absolutely beautiful and I will be spending all my free time editing it for the next couple months...which brings me to free time.

4.) I actually got a job. At a TV show and I'm not just a coffee bitch. It was an actual move up and because of it I do not plan on sharing many details of my new position. It's a lot of hours though and will cut into my ridiculousness time.

Do not fear however because within the deep dark catacombs that make up the Mike James Archives are brilliant tales of mystery and suspense. I will occasionally put up some new stuff here and there but mostly I'll throw up some of the random stream of consciousness that I have woken up to on my computer screen having no recollection of writing. That stuff is always interesting.

I do not want to lose or alienate my beloved fans of The Holla. Just hang tight for some really, awesome shit I've got cooking up and I promise it will be worth it. 2010 looks like I will be festival hoping from the looks of my footage.

Love & Respect,

Mike James