Crash landing in Houston.

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November 5, 2003

I made it from London to Houston safe. LONG trip. Time from when I left the house in London until i got to my friend's house in Houston was 19 hours..

I'll be here staying with friends until November 18, when I return to LA.

I kinda would rather be anywhere in the fucking world. I like Houston, but I booked this leg of my journey many months ago to see a girl, and we've since broken up. So I'm fucking couch surfing and would MUCH rather be home in my own bed with my own stuff and my cat and all that. But instead I'm having to beg strangers to stay in their noisy living rooms.

I'm here teaching a filmmaking class ( www.llu.com ) two weekends in a row, which is cool, but I booked a lot of extra time before and after to see this gal, and it ain't happening. I could have still been in Europe on tour if I'd planned better. I turned down a bunch of showings the last week (in Germany, Holland and my new favorite country, Belgium) because I was leaving.

So I've gone from the best six weeks of my life to two weeks of a big fucking drag. And it's REALLY hot here. and i'm in a house with no AC. And it's like 20 degrees cooler in LA right now. And i have jet lag. and no fucking privacy. FUCK.

I'm trying to make the best of it, working on the new book, but FUCK I don't wanna be here. I'm waking up every morning pissed off. I feel like screaming.

I called yesterday and spent an hour on hold to try and change the ticket to leave the day after my last class (November 16 rather than 18) and it would fucking cost 200 bucks.

I feel stuck and pissed. I really would like to get to a point in my life where I am one notch above where I am at now in money, like if I had four hundred bucks, I could fly home, fly back for the class, fly home and fly back. But I'm fucking stuck because of money. So, for all my cheerleading about the joys of being an independent artist, here's the reality kids: Sometimes it sucks. Because, like Lydia Lunch says, "I have to plan my life six months in advance.". And how the fuck can you know six months in advance that you ain't gonna be with that girl?

The girl has offered to let me stay on her couch, but doesn't seem to understand when I tell her that it would be painful for me to stay with her. How can that not make sense?

FUCK!

The only good is that it's nice to be able to wash my clothes and hair and not immediately smell like cigarettes. And I am staying with nice people here (Madison, Lori and Daniel).

Gonna wash that squat right outta my hair!! Out damn squat!

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I REALLY want a cigarette. Maybe I'll go buy some.

Me on the train between Manchester and London:

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