Writers on the Run: the Road to Amsterdam

A hectic couple of weeks, let me tell you. Felt the best way to do it was in style. The thing to do was go on a big bender. And if not in Amsterdam, then where? If not now, when? If not iSenseChange then who? I stomped my cellphone into paste, left everything and did one last, savage and drunken loop of the city.

Hid out at my buds place for a few days. Cool clique of people, all of whom are trusted friends. A Dreamer Tribe, surfing on a GlobalVibe, if you can dig that kind of speak, Citizens. Took a dog for a walk. Busted out “White Rabbit” by Jefferson Airplane in honour of the Good Doctor and played a kind of menacing version of Iron Butterfly's "Ina Gadda da Vida" with a bunch of hand drummers in a DrumCircle. Discussed the next round of Evolution for man as the spiritual round, a quantum leap in Man's evolutionary progress as he learns to embrace something unseen but larger than Himself, a part of himself, even. A OneNess with the great beyond, whosoever or whatsoever such a thing is. Had a baby-oiled threesome with a couple of very lusty, bisexual women. All of which I could write volumes about. I mean, a fella could get into that kinda hiding forever, believe me, but now is not the time for hand drums, rubber sheets and baby-oil. Not now. I said Blog hard and I meant it, man, shit! I'm not just a Writer on the Run but a Dude on a Quest! For Truth! For ManKind’s next Evolutionary step, a Spiritual one involving a Sustainable Existence, Equality and the Preservation of our Planet. And I look for that Change to be shaped by us, embraced by us as a new and better thing, not thrust upon us by the ramifications of our own stupid Greed.

And Time, man, it’s the thing with us Mortals, eh? Like, we only have so much of it! So you gotta GET TO THE FUCKING POINT, MAN!!!

Right.

Besides, there is, I'm told, apparently no shortage of girls in Amsterdam. That’s what I'd heard from one of my excited chums whom just upped and joined me on the spot. We’ll call him OneForce for our purposes here, and why not? It's what he calls himself and his own personal mission. But more on that and him later. For the nonce, all you need know is that OneForce is a big, tough mushugalah, a LongHair so utterly perfect for this mission, a dude who can go toe to toe with anyone at the bar, be it drinking, fighting, fucking or philosophizing.

OneForce is also a fan of the Good Doctor and took a few pages out of his operations manual. Got a shitload of big blog contracts to write about some product or another and decided to pull a Hunter S. style savage burn on all of them; take the money and run, write about what you want to write about and let the other bastards rot. Out-Pirate the Pirates. OneForce knows that drill as well as anybody.

Yessirree, for a WingMan on a mission of this scope, they don’t come any better than OneForce, who quickly convinced a girl we'd never met to chauffeur us to the airport and a first-class flight to Amsterdam, after a mad rip around the city to pick up the essentials. Which she was happy to
.

Hit the liquor store first. Life on the run is thirsty work and requires a degree of recklessness only attainable by steady and heavy boozing. If you’re not obnoxious and gassy there’s no way you’re going to get past the those first crucial security hurdles. So you get smashed and you stay smashed until you can get settled some place safe. Pass out. Fresh towels and coffee. Wire yourself up after a good four hours rest to ask yourself the real questions in the same kind of bathroom mirror soliloquy that’s got you this far in the first place.

Because its kind of one of those To Be or Not to Be dilemmas, kind of deal old Achilles would have understood perfectly: Settle down. Stop writing Truths in times of omnipresent deception, it can only end badly. You know this. But you can also make a name for yourself. Acquire a Voice. Be. Join whatever burgeoning Earthian movement exists at this point, all the while scouting for good NukeProof bunker locations. Energy efficient, self-sustaining SmartBunkers to orgy out the impending Nuclear winter. If needs be.

Leave at least a footprint in this InterNet time capsule of ours for whatever cockroaches become the next inheritors of this hunk of rock -or collection of atoms, as OneForce'd probably tell you- that clearly states: YES, I KNOW THIS IS ALL BULLSHIT. AND I KNOW THAT WE WERE CAPABLE OF BETTER! WHAT CAN I SAY? THERE’S AN AWFUL LOT OF MORONS OUT THERE. PROBABLY THE MAJORITY. BE WARNED! TWAS GREED THAT KILLED THE BEAST. EVERYTHING ELSE WAS JUST WINDOW DRESSING. SEE HOW WELL YOU FARE. THAT IS ALL!

Truth be told, it’s more than possible that you're powerless to stop yourself anywho. Seeking and telling the Truth as you perceive it gets to be a stronger addiction than the booze, weed or loose women. WritingUp hooked me, and now I’m the worst kind of junky, waiting for my next fix. Well, the fix is in! And SenseChange is off! To Amsterdam! Haha, take that, suckers!

But liquor is the thing to kick off a good InterNational romp and its absolutely essential that your booze is AirPort and plane friendly. Right? Here’s why you want PepperMint Schnappes: your breath always smells like you just brushed your teeth. Always remember: there will be stewardesses. And you kind of owe it to yourself to constantly renew your MileHighClub Member status. Look good, smell good. Behave. Think fun rascal at this point, save the obnoxious nuisance for Security.

Turns out you’re allowed to bring plastic flasks on international flights. Provided you fly FirstClass. And you put it in your carry-on. And your flask looks like a can of shaving cream.

The Penultimate stop is into a FutureShop. Writers on the run need Tek, and nothing but a couple of King Hell Laptops would suffice. Light. Portable. Wireless. Strong. Ready. Write on the run, eh? Fuck it. Good Old NeeChee tells me that which doesn't kill only makes stronger and you know what? I believe it. I feel it in my freaking bones, dude! Faster. Sharper. Right? You sunzabitches. Go ahead and force me to evolve.

OneForce noticed the new puters have DVD players so he picked up the new King Kong flick and I grabbed that Narnia thing. Had seen folks talking about it on WritingUp, figured I might as well see what the fuss was all about. See if Jesus shows up in the end or something. Nabbed a few CellPhones as well. Pay as you go. Untraceable. We’d need to be in communication with each other, and to keep the funds rolling in.

Next stop was disguises. OneForce can look like the scariest biker you’ve ever seen in your life or the Chairman of the Board in a fortune 500 company. And he has no problem talking the talk in either scenarios. We decided to be BigBusiness tycoons. Dress like the Powerful and youll never get fucked with. Which means wed need to look the part. We blazed into a nice clothing shop, bought big, bad-ass business suits. Might as well fly in style.

I kept going back to that round table discussion I'd had with a room full of partiers, whether the next level of HumanEvolution is in the realm of the Spiritual. Tried to freak out the chick who was sell us the suits but she got right into the mix too. OneForce raises an eyebrow, looks at her and then at me. She’s totally on board, a part of the movie. Our movie is her movie. Chick gave us her email address and we had her drinking with us by the time we'd rung up the bill, an astonishing number that one: “That’ll be $1119.11.” she said, and gave me a wink and an email address, entirely unaware that I’d just registered that eleven cents as another sign of cosmic confluence. More on that later. Maybe.

She said she wanted an update in our adventures. I told her to watch for it in WritingUp. Said that a girl with her type of mind oughta give it a try. Plugged you guys cuz I like ya, and I mean that sincerely.

The last stop was at a mutual buddy’s place. Seems his girlfriend had just baked some extra special cookies, just the kind you’d want to bring along for an InterNational flight. We took a bag and were off and hotboxed my old beater quite nicely, singing “Dust in the Wind,” at the top of our lungs when our driver accidentally hit a cat on the highway at something close to seventy-five miles an hour. What an appropriate song, a song about the biggest dichotomy in existence, that of Life and Death, for us to paste some poor housepet all over the InterChange. My stomach hurt we were laughing so hard and when I finally looked up at the coffee-stained clock on the dashboard it was precisely 9:11. All of which carries a lot of significance to me. But you can do with it what you will.

We hopped out of the car and tossed the keys to the girl who’d driven us. She asked me what to do with it. OneForce told her to keep it. Or burn it! I shrugged and told her to keep it. But that I’d need it if I returned.

We breezed in with time to spare. I grabbed a seat while OneForce went out in search of a couple of brews. I took a seat and savored the day. Could feel myself cycling up to WriteUp once again. The Return of SenseChange. I know I killed the bastard but he just doesn’t want to stay dead, and now it looks like SenseChange is stronger than ever. Can the fucker even be killed? Is it, he, larger than myself? Or himself? Who knows?

And how to roll forward at this point? Can the same mad ranting coexist in both the Gonzo Warriors group and the United Earth group? Maybe the only way I can contribute to both the groups to which I belong is to fuse the subject matter. A GonzoEarthian approach. Hmmmm. I think I can stick to that. Gives me some kind of sustained topicality for a refreshing change. Yes. Absolutely. Maybe I'll make something more than $3.49 on my AdSense Account.

Righty-ho, man! These are the challenges I face as a full-on, rip snortin, TruthSeeking, Gonzo-Earthian Writer. I power down my LapTop as I see OneForce walking towards me. He’s obviously dumped out a full couple of coffees and refilled them with ice cold Heinekens. A good fella, that OneForce, I think to myself, until I notice he’s eating a cookie.

A mistake. No question. Not now. Shit. He’d just gone and changed the whole face of how we were going to get on that plane.

Ah well. All for now. Blog Hard, Citizens, and I’ll see you in Amsterdam.

-iSenseChange

RandomMp3age: “I Feel Fine” the Beatles

p.p. Missed you. Yes, you.