I’ve been fortunate enough to have a bunch of stories written about me and my exploits over the years. Sometimes I’ve even managed to sneak some truth into interviews! But this one takes the cake. I didn’t do an interview for this one. Didn’t even know it was coming. The writer has been a friend for a bunch of years and just dropped it on me the other day when he published it. I was more than pleasantly surprised. I was shocked. Then I read it and began to well up with pride. And a few tears. And lots of laughing out loud. Sometimes you need a reminder of how much you love being alive. And how much of a privilege it is to be able to lead such a wild life. This did that for me. In spades. I hope you enjoy it too. Also, WEAR A DAMN MASK!!!
It’s been a long time since I haven’t had a home of my own. Or at the very least a home to call my own. I’m no stranger to extensive travels, but as I write this, sat on an aeroplane jetting towards the City of Angels, this is the first time in my life that I don’t have a place to live, a lead on a place to live, or for that matter, a real care about where I’m going to live. About 10 days ago I decided to pluck my leaf from the stem of the big Apple and toss it into the swirling winds of 2020 and let the universe guide me in her jet stream.
Impulsive adventures are nothing new to me. I once headed to LAX just to drop a friend off and ended up on a flight to Sydney. Doing things on the spur of the moment is one of my great joys in life. But this time it’s different. This time I don’t have a home to go back to. I’m completely untethered. A drifter, you might even say. I gave up my apartment in the building I called home for the past 7 years, and put whatever belongings I didn’t gift to friends or even strangers into a sketchy storage facility in the Jersey shadows of the GW bridge and hopped on a plane.
The last time I was in my adopted second home of Los Angeles it was a two night stop in between a suicidal mental breakdown in Las Vegas and a mental health treatment center in Ocala Florida. This time I’m on my way to gather some belongings I had left scattered around the city and then continue on to Washington State to pick up my beloved Motorcycle which I had left for dead in the Spokane International Airport parking garage in September 2019. I’m gonna get back on that steel horse, a few changes of clothes and some camping gear strapped to the back, and pint my way towards a new adventure. Aside from a few friends I’m planning to visit in Idaho and Idaho and Colorado, I’ve got no idea where I’m going to end up, how I’m going to get there, or when. I guess I’ll just know I’m home when I feel like this is the place where I want to stop.
When I left this bike in Spokane I had been riding it all around the Great Western Frontier, looking for a place to die. This time, I’m looking for a place to LIVE!
21st Century Pack Mule. High above Lake Coeur D’Alene.
Have you ever sat around thinking “man you know what would be Cool? An in-depth interview with my homie Jake about what makes his twisted fruit of a business brain tick?” If so then YOU’RE IN LUCK! Read it and weep. Thanks Relix!!
This week on the LIFE IN THE STOCKS PODCAST you’ll find a very special guest: THE JAKES!!! My old friend Matthew Stocks coaxed (dragged?) a lot of stuff out of me that I wasn’t really expecting to talk about. Beyond the fairly routine jibber jabber about my amazing life in rock n roll and the ceaselessly awe inspiring and intermingling episodes of international intrigue, adventure, and leisure we got down to the brass tacks of crippling depression, anxiety, abuse and all-encompassing suicidal urges. And how I ended up in the nut house for two months at the end of 2019. Tons of fun!!!! Seriously though, I wouldn’t have been able to choose a better bud to host my mental health quinceañera! Listen to it where ever you get your podcasts. In case, ya know, ya need a break from the regularly scheduled parade of police beatings and governmental and societal breakdowns on your normal feed.C
Summer’s here. Dress less. For less. Most shirts onsale for $18. One is $20. Why? Who knows. Who cares really? Is anything even real anymore? Im wearing a 6ix9ine mask. Come at me bro. Im going to apply for food stamps. Why not? The airlines get em. Or mug a hedge fund dude, if there are even any left in the city. Punch a banker in the face. All my heroes set police stations on fire. Fuckery abounds. Let’s all get naked. Peace!!!
***Police in Time Square approached the Musical Unicorns. After brief questioning and detainment, officials released the duo back into the deserted and dystopian dreamscape. Rock N Roll & hijinks ensued! And a police horse got pregnant. With twins, naturally.
