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From the full version of Sunnyside's Lousy Book

Back to the Trailer Court

When the landlord of the shop in Parkland called me up to evict me, he said he had someone else who would pay rent for the place. Since the time of his call was the same day as the bank calling to repossess my truck, I figured it was most likely a lie and he was most likely doing it because of pressure from the city. I knew that my credit was shot and letting him go through the court proceedings would give me another three months. I looked at it as another three months to figure out what to do with all my stuff.
       When the time came, I left him a surprise. The surprise was not only the scrap metal left over from destroying one of my beds but also the surprise of what was in about a half a dozen five gallon buckets. I’m sure I don’t have to say what the real surprise was because I’m sure you have a pretty good idea of what it was.
       Luckily the trailer court I had lived at earlier had a vacant space. Since I never stiffed the landlord for rent or left any mess for him, he let me back in. I liked the idea of not having to shit in a bucket anymore.
       I moved my equipment into a storage unit and made Lake-wood my home again. After a few weeks went by, I drove by the shop in parkland on my way home from painting a batch of tanks to see if there was anyone renting the shop I’d moved out of. Of course there wasn’t any activity to be seen, but there were six buckets lined up on the side of the shop and no sign of a new sewer hookup.
       Soon it was the later part of November. It was getting cold in my trailer and my foot was giving me a great deal of pain. I desperately wanted to get out of the state. I wanted to leave the country, but I realized I wasn’t prepared financially to pull off something as such. I not only wondered if other countries were using my truck yet, but I also wondered if there was a possibility of my truck being used in other states than Washington. Could Washington be a dry state just so I’d think it wouldn’t go anywhere? The only way was to get out. By then I was sure that people in the University of Seattle were aware of me and I was sure that the media in New York was aware of me, but the question I had was whether the folks in Hollywood was aware of me. I’d done the Hollywood romance bit for quite some time by then, but noting was backing Hollywood was aware of who I was.
       I’d come across about a thousand dollars and when Jay Leno on a Monday night said Sarah Michelle Gellar was going to be on that week, and he mentioned her name last. I figured there was a good chance I could find myself sitting in the audience if she was going to be appearing on Friday night. I knew how Hollywood folks have to protect themselves from stalkers, so I knew my game plan was one that would create a fuss.
       The thing was, I realized I wouldn’t even get near Sarah if Hollywood knew who I was and my real goal was to find out if my truck was in use in other states and I wanted to know if Hollywood was truly aware of who I was. There was no better way than to bumming a ride down to the train station from a friend and caught a train to LA. To make it look like I was planning to stay there awhile, I took my bass along. I felt that if nothing else, I’d take a few days and check out the music scene for jam sessions and my bass was a good companion to bring along.
       Sure enough, I had tails stacked out on the train. It kind of bummed me out because the train was one place I didn’t want to have to play the Hollywood romance game. But my tails were surely convinced love I had for her was real. After all, it appeared as I was trying to run into her loving arms.
       I learned that Burbank was the stop before the Los Angeles main station I paid to go to, so I managed to get off in Burbank on Wednesday night. I caught a cab for a ride to a Vagabon. I arrived just in time to watch the Tonight Show. Sure enough, Sarah was on. She was real cute. I even set up my video camera on a chair and recorded her appearance.
       The next morning I woke up and took a step outside. Though the air had a stinch of pollution, the sun was great. There I was, standing in a parking lot with no shirt on and it felt like summer in late November. I loved it and I decided to take a bus ride to downtown Burbank where the network studios are. I learned real fast about the bus routes in LA. They go around in big circles and not back and forth like they do in Tacoma. If you want to go somewhere in LA on a bus, either the ride to where you are going or the ride back is sure to be a long one. I felt out of place on the bus. Everyone was wearing jackets, and I could even wear a shirt over a tank top. Once I got to downtown Burbank, all I had to do was walk the streets around the studios. By the time I got to the gate at Warner Brothers studios, I was absolutely sure Hollywood was well aware of who I was just by the things they were saying about why they thought I was there – the romance bit. The line that made me sure that they were talking about me was a dead give-away. “She thinks he’s a nut case and she doesn’t want anything to do with him.” I heard it so many times, there wasn’t anything to imagine about it. That was what the whole bit was about; to make sure I’d hear whether they were talking about me and they were definitely talking about me.
       The thing that I enjoyed most was being able to walk around without the pain in my foot. I said to hell with the bus and I decided to walk all the way back to my hotel room. I realized trying to see much of LA without a car was pretty much non-sense. The next day I tried to rent a car, but with my credit, the idea was a pipe dream. That’s when I knew that the smartest thing for me to do was to catch the next train back home.
       The train station and bus station is one of the same in Burbank and I discovered that a bus ticket was only $75.00 and it was about to pull out. It turned out that the buses make better time than trains and you even get to stop at hamburger joints for something to eat. I made the trip on about $400.00 and I didn’t see any trucks like mine and I was sure networks in Hollywood knew about me.
       A funny thing accrued on the bus on my way home: It wasn’t long after I started the trip back home, (maybe after the first stop.) There was a voice or two in the back of the bus saying, “She thinks he’s a nut case.” But after the stop in Bakersfield, I began to hear how she loved me. It was obvious to me that a tail had either gotten off or gotten on the bus. (A few years later I learned what had taken place for sure.) Guess.

If you feel I might have been imagining the voices in the background on TV talking about me. I’m sure I’ve imagined them a few times just because of similarities, but for the most part, I’m pretty sure most of the voices were real. Most were from either live clips on CNN from the floor of the NY Stock exchange, or at live sports events. However, CNN is run by a black guy and he’s replaced most of the white men with women and minorities. Everything now days are prerecorded and squeaky clean.
       After I got back from California I quit smoking pot -- mostly for the spite of it -- because whenever I got paid any descent amount of money -- people on the street were wondering whether I would score some weed or not. They'd get excited because they knew my attitude would change for the better and I'd write more amusing material.
       The guy whom I was getting the weed from is another reason I quit smoking pot. He would insinuate that I was a little strange and I got sick and tired of the dumb shit's remarks. I even began to wonder if he was influenced somehow or even paid to say such crap to me.
       After I quit smoking pot I experienced writers block, big time. It took a couple months before I could get myself in the mood to write. It took even longer to be able to write funny material again. Basically I had to learn how to write all over, but since "Spell Check" has worked better for me ever since I realize I can spell better now. My writing style has also changed for the better because it’s more appropriate and formal.
       I got away from the whacked out journal style of writing I've been known for. I can't say my journal style wasn't good writing, because I find myself laughing at it whenever I read in it. But the problem with my older style was that it was based on comments; similar to Jerry Sienfeld’s type of humor. If the reader doesn't have a hint to what's going on, they just won't understand a lot of it. One thing it did do however, was make people use their heads and that's part of reason why I wrote the way I did.
       Although the writing journal style is quite unique, it just doesn't get the nod in a book. When writing a book, the writing has to be more professional and descriptive. Slang just doesn't cut it, so whipping out the dictionary and thesaurus is a must. It has become a necessity for me to read books on elements of style just make my writing talents develop more. Without pot, I even began to play my bass more consistent too. That's because I remember the cord changes in songs better.

The next chapter of Sunnyside's Lousy Book is:


Part Four -- Hit the Road Jack


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Featured chapter prior to

What Light Pole? is:

Tell me, does the underground use cops?

 

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This segment describes what the second set of court documents are all about.

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Pretty rusty base plate
I'd say.









Funny how the welder sprayed primer on it so it wouldn't look rusty. But I've got to give him credit for even being able to weld to such a rusty thing. 
It does'nt matter how the weld looks, as long as it holds.


 





They get it up, but the strap wouldn't slide down on the day they hung it

Even after a car ran into it the same day as they put it up.

I guess I'm not the only one who was looking for traffic and not a gray pole.


 































































Yah wanna check out line 19





wooden dumpster on back of a Synchro-link truck

My Synchro-link truck
is a whole fleet of trucks in one
Check it out at
MiniRollOffTrucks.com




 

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