August 3, 2010
Well, I woke up at Cliff’s house in Berkeley this morning and it turns out he is growing weed here, after all. Actually, “growing weed” is sort of a benign term; Cliff is basically holding the community hostage. The law is on his side now, and he’s beating his neighbors over the head with it. He got his medical marijuana license, went home, and planted weed plants on every inch of his back and side yards. He never even asked his landlord… or the three other tenants who share the property with him. There’s this lady who lives behind him an if she were to ever walk out of her backdoor again, she’d be right in the middle of his weed farm. Seriously, her walkway up to her door is beset with weed plants taller than her on both sides and you’d have to like, walk sideways down the concrete like you were cutting through a crowd at a concert just to get through the foliage. Cliff goes, “Yeah, she’s been complaining about the smell.” They have a little shed in the back, you know for peoples’ lawnmowers and hoes and rakes and shit, and he’s completely taken over that, too. It’s full of his seedlings and lights and planters and all that crap. Cliff was telling us that his landlord is this old black guy who came over one time, and couldn’t help but notice all the landscaping going on at his fucking property, so he asked Cliff, “What kind of plants are those?” Cliff told him it was weed, and the guy started grabbing his heart like Fred Sanford and shit, spooled off a couple minutes of old black man lamentations, including “My brothers and sisters are killing themselves for that shit over in Oakland!” and then stumbled out into the middle of the street and called the police. The cops pulled up in front of all the neighbors and shit, looked at Cliff’s paperwork, and basically told them all that Cliff is running shit now, so welcome to the new world.
I woke up on Cliff’s couch. Smoked weed. A lot. We all must be sick as dogs cuz we’re smoking the shit out of this medicine. Apparently, weed cures all. Heal thyself, sicko!
BTW, check out this weed garden:
Earlier today, we rode around on Cliff’s cool bikes:
We took a stroll around Berkeley. Proof:
We’re stoned and riding bicycles out in front of the house. Things have seriously regressed for all involved. It’s a good time to mention that we go ahead and get stoned out of our fucking minds for the next five or six days. Between Cliff being a professional weed grower, our other buddy Derek arriving in town and buying an entire ounce of hash for the weekend, and the laws here in Northern California basically saying you can go to jail for passing a piss test, I have been abusing the fuck out of cannabinoids. I’ve never been so against weed in my life. I’ve had like twenty-seven nervous breakdowns and four midlife crises in less than a week in San Francisco and I don’t remember a single one of them. If it seems odd to you that I’m typing about being here a week when I haven’t even been in town 24 hours, it is because I’m so fucking stoned, I’m able to float back and forth through time. I’m about to call my parents and beg them to buy me a plane ticket home…
Right now, we’re at the cinema. Slim pickings. I mean, not many folks here on a Tuesday. “Inception” has us beat by a long-shot here in El Cerrito. We did meet up with our pal Allan and might be crashing at his pad for the eve.
Alan let us crash at his pad in Alamito. Here’s the tube that takes you there:
The screening in El Cerrito, albeit sparsely populated, did feature the likes of Alan Jones and Cliff Lipinski. Here’s some video of them for all our friends back home.
Sit back and relax as Austin’s own expatriate, Alan Jones, leads us on a journey through “The Tube” into Alameda, and beyond.
August 2, 2010
Spent the night at a local derby gal, Blue Ruin’s pad. A mostly uneventful eve that was helped along with beer and Xanax. This morn, it was basically wake up, drive:
We finally got to California today… Chico is our first stop. Was our first stop? I’m having trouble with the time-space continuum here. What I do know is before we ever left, I made it very clear to Bob that he had to show the Total Badass trailer before every showing of Hell on Wheels, even in cities where only Hell on Wheels was playing. I told him how it was important to get word out to these people, they might end up buying a DVD, isn’t that the whole point of the tour and so on. I was giving him all these practical reasons to show it, but obviously the point is that there are going to be girls at these fucking showings, and I want to make it perfectly clear to all of them that I’ve been in a movie. Then, at least the way I saw it in my mind before the tour started, girls would be fucking me in the actual theatre and shit. Well, we roll into El Cerrito and they are showing Hell on Wheels at a roller rink, and there are a shitload of kids there. Problem is, there were a lot of girls there too, so I had to lean on Bob and insist that he still show the trailer, regardless. Here’s the whole thing on film:
Stopped to call the Vancouver fuckers who wrote me a ticket and contest that unjust citation! It turns out that I need to submit the appeal in writing. Fuckers. Saw some spider web in a tree:
This is exciting stuff, huh?
Made it to Cal Skate to screen at a skating rink with the Nor Cal Roller Girls.
No luck for a crash-pad. So we decided to drive another 3+ hours to Berkeley. The screening was pretty fun. I blame the acoustics in the skate rink as the reason my charming pleas for a couch to sleep on went unanswered.
Having driven about 4,600 miles so far, I’ve yet to kill anything of substance. So I nearly killed a Jackalope trying to dart across a podunk highway south of Chico. No footage of that. But I scared the shit out of him!
We met up with our old Austin pal, Cliff. Here’s his gecko and the cool tile in his bathroom:
Oddly enough, we didn’t find a place to stay in Chico after everything was said and done. We jumped on the option of driving straight through to Berkeley and staying with Cliff Lipinski. We got to his place kind of late and you can see some video of him below. It was kind of late and we were pretty tired. He was telling us he grows weed or some shit and I was taking it all with a grain of salt.