I sit here at the kitchen table. It’s 1:50am. I’m not tired. I’ve had a few beers now. Smoked a little bit of the dank ass weed I got. The dogs play without concern of waking the roommate, Henry. Poor Henry. He probably thinks, “man, fuck these dogs”. Although I doubt he really hates them. Maybe he’s just mad in silence. Upset that he’s awake when he tries to sleep. All he wants to do is sleep, goddammit.

Regardless of Henry, I’m back on track. I tried doing a YouTube channel, eh- it wasn’t quite what I wanted. I’m all about the performance, the acts, the ups and downs. By the same token, I know what works and what I should leave alone. YouTubing videos out to the public? It’s not me. Not my jam. I prefer to have my voice appear on the page. Be it my voice or one of the many characters I live through.

The title implies that I want to go out to LA (Hollywood, probably West side). In a sense, this is true. In reality it’s not true. My plans for the foreseeable future are to stay put where I’m at. I love where I live. It’s a nice pizza pie, not too humble, and evil is real, so humble down just a bit before you die. I’m somewhere around the West Coast. Say that much, to give you a better ambiguous idea of where I’m at. I wish I lived in Fangorn Forest. That’d be so dope. But in reality I’m somewhere on planet Earth. Not Middle Earth.

Why LA? It’s a dangerous place, a weird place, a place of uncertainty and bubbles created by those cautious enough to avoid the danger that lurks constantly. In my mind I love this idea. Become a true sociopath- we’ve got land for you here in Southern California. Or be a killer and grift through our Southern half of the state. Notice I don’t mention Northern California. It’s because I have no memory of that part of Cali. And if you’re unaware, California is that big, and in some real ways, it is that divided- two different ballparks in the same state. California is a, well- it’s a place unto itself. Like parts of Texas, Chicago, parts of New York. Now that I mention it, could be parts of any state in the USA. All I know is that California is a leviathan. It’s a beautiful disaster. And part of me loves this Cali disaster.

I will not move to LA because I’ll still be there. Get it? I mean, where ever I go, there I am. There’s no point, to deny this fact. I’ve been burning bridges since ’88, baby. Keep that in mind. And while I love Larry David and the fictional imaginings of George Costanza, I also realize, “it ain’t easy being green”. I’ve created this persona for myself. One of turmoil and unpredictable intensity. That is who I am. The catch is to better channel this energy. To direct it, tunnel vision that shit. Get back on track. Become my purpose.

I’ll say this as well. I didn’t even fucking know how to launch this bugger until about an hour ago. So now I’m off to the races, once again. I take periodical breaks, mini sabbaticals that are needed. Then I return. Dip my feet in again.

I’m here to make this fun. I figure, why not inject some little fictional freebies into the mix. Soon to come, just keep eyes open for when my posts drop.

See, now? Not that drunk. Not that high. I did alright. I feel that these posts are first drafts only. Take it or leave it. Take the good shit, leave the bullshit. When I’m zoning, I give good shit. No bad vibes when I’m in the zone. Serious about that.

Peace out girl scouts,

Philip Webb, -2:12am, September 8th, 2022