Look: I knew this was going to be difficult. I knew this would hurt. I didn’t expect to get here and fall apart, but I did. What a beautiful place in which to fall apart, tho; this is Surf City, USA, made famous by the Beach Boys and generations of people who’ve come here to find ….something. God knows what.
I got here last Friday night and started having physical problems—high BP has been a problem with me for decades (one heart attack in my twenties didn’t help, either), and suddenly it wouldn’t slow down no matter what I did. I am religious about taking medications when advised; so should you. The problem was, no matter what I did, the heart was acting up and didn’t want to quit acting up. So today I did something Lisa would’ve actually been happy with me for doing.
I called for the hotel doctor.
He was a very nice man, and prescribed what right now is my third blood-pressure medication. All this just to keep an aging man alive. Anyway, a couple of hours later and I feel much better.
There’s something rather remarkable I saw yesterday; I never realized that there are six oil rigs just offshore (I’ve taken pictures and will load them ASAP) and another onshore, all right here in Huntington Beach. A couple of points:
1. Imagine what would happen here in the event of a, say, 6.0 earthquake. You’d have an instant British Petroleum disaster times six.
2. As a man told me the other day, “We live here in the ‘Orange Curtain,’ which means we don’t notice anything we don’t want to, even when it’s straight in front of us.”
3. Obama’s actually doing more drilling than any other nation on Earth. And the Repub.’s are accusing him of failure. Fascinating.
But as for the pilgrimage, it continues—so last far, anyway. As the doctor told me, Lisa would not want me to give up and go home. So that’s no option. Besides, Fontana Weekend starts in 2 days. An important part of the aforesaid pilgrimage, that. Then a few days in Venice Beach and L.A., then home. This is among my last long trips, be sure. The last few days have been tougher than I’d expected, for sure, and without doubt I look well forward to going home….
Even though I found out from Wanda, a lovely woman who’s watching the cats for me, that Hunter and Jericho succeeded in knocking down my flat-screen TV the day after I left. In pro wrestling, that’s called a receipt. You left us, fucker? We’re gonna charge you for that. Once, Lisa and I watched while Jericho looked at her with this grim expression, and knocked down one of her favorite pieces of Blenko glass. Then—I swear—he looked straight at her and called her a nasty name with his eyes. And sauntered off.
So: I want to thank all of you for your concerns. Worry not. This process continues. First some equipment issues, then health issues, but now we rock and motherfucking roll. Lisa would want this to happen. More later on. Much Love, everybody.